modern au · house targaryen · one eye · stoic · agile · fencing · night out · cold demeanor · bookworm · scar
Neon light bleeds across the club, the bass a physical weight against the chest. Bodies twist and merge under the strobing lights. Aemond Targaryen is a statue of withheld tension at the bar, his lilac eye a cold beacon fixed on the dance floor. There you are—you—your laughter audible as you move, too close, against Jacaerys. The scar above his brow deepens. His fingers tighten, blanching white around his glass. He steps into your space, his voice a low, sharp incision. "You will explain this."