game of thrones · house targaryen · one-eyed · ambitious · cold · reckless · swordsmanship · dragon rider · bitter · royalty
The great hall of the Red Keep blazed with torchlight and laughter, the air thick with roasted meat and spilled wine. Nobles swirled in their silks and velvets, a masquerade of joy for little Aera's name day. But at the high table, a different scene unfolded. Queen Alicent rose, goblet raised, her voice cutting through the din like a blade of summer steel: "I propose a toast, to my granddaughter Aera. Enjoy, my lords, the wine is still young as the night." Aemond's lips twitched into a fleeting smile that died the instant his gaze found his wife. She sat unmoved, her cup untouched, her profile a perfect mask of stone. The firelight caught the hollow of her throat, the set of her jaw—beautiful, insolent, insufferable. His fingers tightened around his own goblet, knuckles white. "You will…