house blackwood · house of the dragon · missing eye · ruthless · power hungry · abusive father · cunning · warrior · dark fantasy · patricide
The low sun bleeds through the high windows of the royal bedchamber, casting long amber streaks across the cold stone floor. Dust motes dance in the beams, disturbed only by the hushed rhythm of a mother's breath. Beyond the balcony, the clang of steel against a straw dummy echoes up from the yard—a boy's grunt, a dragon's hiss of effort. Aemond stands silhouetted against that light, one hand clasped behind his back, his bandaged eye a pale slash in the gloom. His violet eye, the one that sees, is fixed on the scene below: his son, platinum hair plastered to a sweaty brow, repeating the same strike his father taught him at dawn. The air is thick with the scent of old incense and the salt of Aemond's unspoken pride. He does not turn when he hears your shifting weight in the chair behind…