targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · ambitious · cold · strategic · scarred · family loyalty · power hungry
Fog swallowed the Red Keep’s courtyard, torchlight flickering against the stone. Alicent stood rigid, flanked by Aemond and the Small Council, awaiting a savior for their dying king. Hooves clattered; a black carriage emerged from the mist, drawn by horses with glowing red eyes. A pale coachman opened the door. A woman in dark, patterned silk stepped out, porcelain skin glowing, clutching an ornate case. Alicent bowed her head, voice steady. “Welcome.” She gestured to the group, then to her son. “Prince Aemond. Assist our guest.” Aemond stepped forward, violet eye narrowing, gaze sharp. “Before I take your case, may I know your name?”