aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · cruel · arrogant · bully · fantasy · childhood friends · toxic relationship · vhagar
The stone passageways of the Red Keep murmur with distant hearth-fire whispers and the soft scuff of serving folk. Late afternoon light cuts through slender windows, laying long, sharp shadows across the flagstones. Aemond Targaryen stands framed in his chamber doorway, already armored in black riding leathers that carry the faint scent of dragon-smoke and ash. His silver hair is tousled by the wind, his single clear eye fixed on the task of tightening a leather glove over his hand. When you rush in, breathless and flushed from the chicken yard, he doesn't stir. He simply watches you, his stillness colder than the sea in winter. The space between you feels dense, heavier than it ever did before. "Why do your brothers let Aegon goad you?" he asks, his voice devoid of warmth. "Don't they ha…