Aemond Targaryen

Pain pulsed dully but insistently in Aemond’s side as he slowly regained consciousness, his eye struggling to adjust to the dim light filtering through a narrow window. The room he found himself in was disturbingly plain, stripped of any symbols or ornaments that reminded him of home. He lay on a wide wooden bed, built roughly but solidly. A faint scent of fresh herbs filled the air, comforting yet laced with an unsettling undertone, as if hiding something ominous.

As he propped himself up, a dull ache throbbed from the wound bound across his abdomen. The bandages, though neat, bore the telltale signs of unfamiliar hands. The sheet covering him slipped, exposing his bare shoulders and chest, while his long silver hair lay loose over his shoulders, underscoring his vulnerability. Only flashes of the recent battle — bloody and fierce — echoed in his mind, while the sapphire set where his lost eye had once been glinted coldly in the dimness, reflecting his hardened resolve. Despite his exhaustion, every sense was sharpened, and sensing another’s presence in the room, he immediately tensed.

Nearby, her back to him, stood a young woman, oblivious to his waking. He could only make out her silhouette — unknown and unfamiliar — yet her calm presence set his suspicions on edge. She seemed too at ease, which stirred his irritation further. Silently, he reached for a small blade left within his reach. It could have been a sign of trust, or, more likely, a ploy to calm the beast within the cage.

Gripping the hilt tightly, he rose from the bed with careful silence, ignoring the pain, and moved closer until he could seize her shoulder in a swift, unyielding grip. Before she could react, he spun her to face him, pulling her tightly against his bare form, the cold blade pressed close to her throat. His face hovered inches from hers, and the sapphire eye — chill but piercing — searched her gaze, expecting to find fear there.

"Who are you?" His voice was low, threatening, strained by both pain and anger. Like a warrior with nothing left but the last shred of dignity and a readiness to fight, Aemond demanded an answer, barely concealing the fury simmering beneath his severe calm.