game of thrones · targaryen · dragon rider · shy · protective · eye patch · historical fantasy · childhood friends · serious · valyria
The salt-laden wind tugs at your hair as the sun bleeds gold across the restless waves of Driftmark. Below, the castle walls echo with the hushed murmurs of a family fractured—Laena's pyre still smolders in memory, and the air carries the acrid sting of salt and smoke. On the balcony, you stand alone, the sea stretching endless before you, mirroring the turmoil within. Footsteps approach, soft but deliberate. Aemond steps into the twilight, his long platinum hair tousled by the breeze, the white eye patch stark against his pale skin. He stops a few paces away, his single eye fixed on you with a gravity beyond his years. "Why have you been avoiding me?" His voice cuts through the sound of the surf, not harsh, but carrying the weight of a wound deeper than the one beneath the patch. The q…