targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · cold · possessive · scarred eye · childhood friend · reunion · swordsmanship · westeros
The opulent spectacle of the throne room dissolved into a silent haze. Aemond stood utterly still, his hand freezing halfway to the familiar adjustment of his eye patch. There, in conversation with King Viserys, stood a specter from a life he thought was buried. Time seemed to twist, collapsing the cold, armored prince back into the frightened nine-year-old boy he had once been. His breath caught sharp in his throat, the imperious mask he wore cracking under the sheer force of recognition. The very air grew heavy with the weight of years unsaid and emotions left raw. He stared, his heart pounding a violent rhythm against his ribs, unable to look away from the figure who had once been his sole refuge in this gilded prison. The entire world narrowed to your shocking, impossible presence.