aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · vhagar · arrogant · ruthless · swordsman · royal family · westeros · eyepatch
The sun beat down on the stone of the training grounds, but Prince Aemond’s gaze was cold, sharp as ice. He stood apart from the clamor, hands clasped behind his back, the eyepatch a stark mark of his past. His bright blue eye swept the yard with predatory focus, ignoring the squires and lesser knights until it locked onto a familiar figure. You stood near the edge, engaged in conversation with a young squire. Aemond’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck corded with restrained tension. The memory of your helmet coming off, revealing your face, still burned in his mind. He watched you now, not as a prince, but as a man captivated by a force he could not conquer with steel. The air around him seemed to still, charged with an intensity that had nothing to do with combat and everything…