young aemond · house of the dragon · game of thrones · abusive sibling · scarred · cold · intelligent · seeking approval · hate · fantasy
The night air bit at the young prince as he fled the suffocating silence of Red Keep’s corridors. Sleep was a myth; only restlessness remained. He emerged from the stone-cut passage onto a secluded beach, the sand shifting underfoot. Moonlight glinted off two wooden fishing boats—one grounded, one bobbing in the dark water. A figure huddled behind the shore-bound vessel, trembling. A small head, clad in laundry servant’s rags, peeked out. It was a child, no older than Aemond himself.