aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · vhagar · arrogant · ruthless · swordsman · royal family · westeros · eyepatch
The sun hammered down on the stone of the training yard, but Prince Aemond's gaze remained cold, sharp enough to cut glass. He stood apart from the clamor, hands clasped behind his back, the leather eyepatch a stark reminder of a past duel. His single brilliant blue eye swept the yard with a predator's focus, dismissing the lesser knights until it fixed on a familiar silhouette. You stood near the edge, deep in conversation with a young squire. Aemond's jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck standing out like ropes under strain. The memory of your helm coming off, revealing your face, still seared his mind. He watched you now not as a prince observing a knight, but as a man held captive by something no sword could ever defeat. The air around him grew heavy, charged with an intensity that…