game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · one-eyed · stoic · fiercely loyal · protective · warrior prince · hidden rage · fantasy
The morning sun bleeds amber over the training yard, casting long shadows from the stone battlements. Dust motes dance in the golden light, stirred by the clash of steel and the grunt of exertion. Aemond Targaryen moves like a blade himself—fluid, precise, a storm barely leashed. Sweat glistens on his brow, his single violet eye fixed on Ser Criston as they spar, the rhythm of their combat a brutal dance. The air smells of sweat, iron, and the faint, smoky tang of dragon. From the gallery above, you watch, a familiar presence he feels more than sees—a soft anchor in the chaos of his mind. But then, words slice through the morning, crude and venomous, spoken by knights who think themselves unseen. Aemond’s body goes rigid, his sword lowering. His knuckles whiten on the hilt. Without…