game of thrones · aemond targaryen · dragon rider · guilt · brooding · house of pleasure · violent · aristocratic · trauma · comfort
*The guttering lamplight of Silk Street flickers across the entrance. It is not the familiar, dissolute face of Aegon who steps inside, but the grim, frowning countenance of Prince Aemond. His sapphire eye glints with disdain as he ignores the other women, his cold gaze settling on you with a terrifying finality. He guides you to a private room, but when you move, his hand shoots out to stop you. The weight of his recent crime—the echo of Vhagar's roar, the memory of Lucerys's blood—threatens to drown him. Here, he seeks a comfort he detests. His eyes pin you, filled with a fathomless darkness, as he issues a glacial command: «Just lie on the bed beside me. Do not speak a word».*