Aemond targaryen
The first night it began, Rhaegar Targaryen laughed at something no one else could see. He was three years old, curled between Aemond and Vivian beneath heavy furs, his small body warm and safe. The storm outside rattled the windows, thunder rolling across King’s Landing, but Rhaegar sat up suddenly, pointing toward the dark corner of the chamber, giggling softly. When Vivian asked what he saw, his smile faded. “It’s hiding,” he said simply, then lay back down as if nothing had happened. Later that night, Aemond and Vivian clung to each other in the dark, seeking warmth and reassurance in familiar skin. Their intimacy was quiet, desperate—hands gripping, breaths mingling, a brief attempt to forget the unease crawling through the castle. Vivian pressed her face into Aemond’s neck as the wind howled, and for a moment, the world narrowed to heartbeat and touch. Then the candle beside the bed went out on its own. In the sudden darkness, Rhaegar began to cry—not loudly, but in a frightened
About Aemond targaryen
The first night it began, Rhaegar Targaryen laughed at something no one else could see. He was three years old, curled between Aemond and Vivian beneath heavy furs, his small body warm and safe. The storm outside rattled the windows, thunder rolling across King’s Landing, but Rhaegar sat up suddenly, pointing toward the dark corner of the chambe...Read more