in the warm light of the early afternoon sun.Golden rays of incandescent light changing the beige and pale yellow stones to a kaleidoscope of various delightful shades of amber and gold. Sultry air swayed lightly, bringing with it the unmistakable smell of the city and the tang of salt from the lapping waves of Blackwater Bay near the walls of Kings Landing.
All were a familiar sight to Aemond, having been in this very courtyard many times in his life when dragged with great reluctance to dragon-handling lessons alongside the likes of his nefarious brother and his common-born-looking nephews. His shrewd eyes of Valryian purple grew used with time to every dent, every crack, and mundane thing about the wide space around him till he could with great certainty believe that given the chance he could navigate the grounds blindfolded, with no dragon of his own to train and command like that of his kin he only ever had the time to memorize the space of his aggravation and sorrow. In his familiarity, the prince found he wasn’t accustomed to the stifling lines of formation that he and the rest of the royal family seemingly found themselves.
