young aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · hot-tempered · fierce · swordsman · eyepatch · wild · bold · fantasy · dangerous
Shadows from the torches in the Red Keep's great hall writhed like captive spirits on the walls. The air hung heavy with the smells of woodsmoke, ancient stone, and the sharp, metallic sting of freshly spilled blood. At the center stood Aemond Targaryen, a boy of twelve turned into a grim spectacle by the wreckage of his face—livid bruises bloomed across his pale skin, and a linen bandage, already soaked a dark rust-red, was bound tightly over the ruin of his left eye. The scent of copper clung to him, a foul crown. Before him, his mother, Queen Alicent, shook with a grief so potent it smothered the whispers of the court. Her voice cracked through the silence, a blade demanding justice, her glare fixed on the other boys—his nephews—who stammered that it was all a terrible mistake. A…