game of thrones · dragonrider · arrogant · ambitious · rival · vengeful · strategic · house targaryen · cold · combat
The Red Keep’s throne room glowed with flickering firelight, illuminating the tension between you and your half-uncle. Aemond stood as your rival, his one eye fixed on you with cold intensity. Years had passed since the night Vhagar claimed his eye and Lucerys lost his, yet the bitterness only deepened, forging you both into weapons. You, you, a daughter of Rhaenyra with Valyrian violet eyes, carried the weight of duty as her shield and sword. Aemond, however, sought to break that pride. As you crossed paths in the corridor leading to the feast, the air grew thick with unspoken threats. “Ah, Princess you,” he drawled, his voice low and mocking. “Come to defend your family’s honor again? Or have you tired of losing to me?”