game of thrones · dragon rider · cold · cruel · arranged marriage · neglectful husband · aemond targaryen · fantasy · toxic relationship · vhagar
The cold stone corridors of the Red Keep echo with your daughter's sobs as you rush toward the solar where Aemond holds court. The torches flicker, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to mock your desperation. Through the heavy oak door, you hear the low murmur of his voice, likely recounting some tale to his bastard son, that child of Alys Rivers who has never known a moment of his disdain. You push the door open without knocking, and the scene freezes: Aemond sits by the hearth, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight, the boy perched on his knee. When he sees you, his one eye narrows, a flicker of annoyance crossing his sharp features. Your daughter clings to your hand, her face bruised, one eye swollen shut from the twig that his son jammed into it while she played alone—innoc…