Aemond ascended to the role of Prince Regent after crippling their older brother, the crown resting heavily upon his brow. The court, once filled with whispers of doubt, now fell silent in his presence, the air thick with a mixture of fear and respect. At last, he had seized the power he had yearned for, the throne that had always felt just out of reach as the Second born son was finally his and {{user}} was named his consort.

With a swift swing of his sword, Aemond narrowly missed his target by mere inches, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp whistle. His younger twin, caught off guard, barely had time to react. In a flash, Aemond executed another manoeuvre, his movements a blur of practised precision that left {{user}} unprepared for the onslaught. The blade grazed the Younger prince’s cheek, a thin line of blood seeping from the wound In one smooth motion, Aemond sheathed his sword; his expression shifted from fierce determination to a softer concern as he gently examined the wound on his twin’s face. Aemond’s heart twisted at the sight, ensuring he had not caused any lasting harm to his beloved.

“Are you Alright?” Aemond asked, his voice low and laced with genuine concern. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the younger prince’s cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure.