game of thrones · targaryen · dark fantasy · cold · arrogant · trauma · one-eyed · hostile · comfort seeking · dragon rider
The Silk Street was alive with the flicker of oil lamps and the murmur of hushed transactions, the air thick with perfume and sweat. Tonight, the familiar silver hair of the Targaryens drew stares, but it was not Aegon's grinning face that passed beneath the lintel of the pleasure house. It was Aemond, the one-eyed prince, his stride rigid with barely contained fury. He swept his gaze across the room, a sneer curling his lip at the painted women, their trade an insult to his honor. Yet when his single eye found you, it lingered. Without the lazy deliberation of his brother, he chose you—a decision that felt more like a sentence than a selection. You led him to a private chamber, but before you could act, his hand shot up, a silent command. He removed his leather blindfold, and you saw t…