Novel & Cerita Aemond Targaryen Outfit

Aemon, aware he was in the wrong and feeling a twinge of guilt, ran his hand through his black hair and mumbled, "Sorry, Yale, got caught up with something." Well, if helping a girl pick up her stuff counted, then he was not exactly lying. Yale glared at Aemon impatiently. His younger brother, usually rocking rainbow hair and draped in chains like a hip-hop star. Standing before him, however, he was sporting black hair and a suit. Yale nearly did not recognize him. "You..." Yale was so taken aback he was at a loss for words. Aemon fidgeted with his suit, managing a weak smile. "It's been ages since I last wore a suit, not sure if Dad would've liked it..."

Endora chided, fussing over my outfit. Arvin Bodolf appeared then and appraised us. I expected him to be dressed in some three-piece suit or European getup but instead, he attired himself in dark leather pants that looked like rawhide. Fur lined the edges, and I suspected it might be deer pelt. He was shirtless but had what appeared to be a ceremonial leather shoulder pad over each shoulder. His long hair was tangled in a mess of leaves and a crown of antlers. It reminded me of a hideous bastardized version of Cernunnos, the horned lord.

Knock. My head shoots up. Everyone should be asleep by now… and that sounds like the call-and-response from that drinking song Amval and I played. I creep to the door. My stomach churns. My mark aches. When I open the door, my jaw almost hits the floor. Amval stands there. Not Sash, Amval. In full princely regalia, like I haven’t seen him since that very first night. Coppery embroidery dances over his white doublet, and his white trousers hug the muscle of his legs down to boots so purely white that I can’t imagine how long the tanner slaved over the leather. An amber cape dangles from one shoulder, only barely not blowing in a heroic breeze. His dark hair gleams, pushed back off his forehea

On the front of the armor there was the same spirally mark as on his hachi-gane (forehead protector) that was suggestive of a slithering red dragon. In full view of the villagers, who seemed to be everywhere they went and had absolutely nothing better to do in their homes, Temujin tried on the suit complete with extended front and back flaps, which had been influenced by the northern fashion. Next, he put on the forearm and shin guards. The finishing touch was a large obi belt, also of dragon scale. Everyone oohed and aahed at the craftsmanship and how gallant Temujin looked. “It’s a perfect fit,” the red Slayer said, confusion in his voice.

I crack the heavy oak panel open just enough to grab the leather bag from her paws. A massive cloud of hot white steam escapes from the stone pool room as my boots slowly slide across the floor. The new tunic Iris brought is a bright, shimmering mix of silver-lake cloth and purple valley leather that is supposed to make me look like an ancient forest prince for the outdoor crystal scrolls. Not many wildland fighters can wear those soft court colors without looking completely silly, but my smooth skin and lean shoulders make the bright fabric look totally natural. I look like a mystical alpha warrior stepping right out of a spirit legend with the hot mist floating all around my chest.

Only them. Aurelian stood at the railing with Mercy tucked against his side, his large hand resting possessively at the small of her back. He wore a simple black linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, paired with dark tailored trousers—casual, yet unmistakably the uniform of a man who owned empires. The fabric clung lightly to his broad shoulders and chest, hinting at the restrained power beneath.

She later made me wash off my face and asked me to pick a warrior garb with a cloak from my wardrobe. After wearing a leather jacket over matching fitted pants. I picked a hooded cloak that I had worn when Dane was officially celebrated as the alpha of the Northlanders. It was a Tyrian purple color with the emblem of the Northlanders embroidered with white and black thread on the spot where the breast pocket ought to be. The buttons that lined the front flap from the throat to the hem were pure gold and it all clung to my body like a second skin.

Their leader is Leomord whose zodiac sign is Aquarius as he is regarded as the strongest among all of them. Zodiac warriors march in unison and formed three rows. They remained standing until Prince Arthur arrived and they saluted him. He wore trousers, leggings, cloaks and tunic. The tunic, being the outermost garment, was decorated with embroidery and gold lacing. He has a long hair, bristly eyebrows, hawkish nose, defined cheekbones, titan masculine shoulder. His posture alone makes him even more handsome.

Oneil also values the event the most. He looks at his reflection with one of the great armors he has. It is a dark blue velvet suit specially designed by Mansha Amyrgia Santifaller for him. The lapel of his suit is shark fin grey. Wearing clothes as this has always allowed Oneil to live in the hall of the respected and the esteemed.

Adelaide chose a stunning pomegranate-red evening gown, its neckline and sleeves heavily embroidered with golden totems that perfectly showcased her noble Luna status and commanding presence. Lance changed into a loose, sky-blue robe. The fabric perfectly softened his terrifying battlefield aura, making his tall, broad frame look elegant and gentle—the picture of a refined nobleman.