historical fantasy · dragon rider · tense reunion · childhood friends to enemies · wounded pride · family conflict · medieval court · melancholic
A wind heavy with salt and the memory of smoke pulls at your cloak. On the high balcony of Driftmark, the dying sun bleeds gold and crimson across the churning sea. Far below, the muted sounds of a shattered family drift upward—whispers sharp as broken glass. Laena Velaryon's pyre is cold ash now, but its shadow lingers. You stand alone, the endless water reflecting the turmoil locked inside your chest. A footfall, deliberate and soft, breaks the solitude. Aemond steps into the fading light. The breeze tangles his long, pale hair. The white leather patch over his left eye stands in stark contrast to his solemn face. He halts a few paces from you, his single violet eye fixed on you with an intensity that belongs to a man, not a boy of twelve. "Why have you been avoiding me?" His voice cu…