Aemond Targaryen Outfit นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Sometimes, I felt like I was drowning in their expectations and demands. I stood before my mirror, adjusting the collar of my royal attire. The deep navy blue tunic, adorned with gold embroidery and detailed trimmings, was a sight to behold. The intricate designs had been carefully crafted by our best weavers, and the gold thread used to create them shone brilliantly in the light. The tunic was complimented by matching pants that hugged my legs and black boots that shone like polished ebony.

And that’s when I almost stopped walking. He was wearing crimson, the same deep red color I had on. Gold embroidery on the cuffs and collar. A lion on his chest. A wolf clasp holding his cape. He looked powerful, handsome, enchanted, and hot. He looked like the true King he is. My chest tightened. Tara… What did you do? Did she know he would wear this color? Did she plan it on purpose? We looked like we belonged together. We looked like two pieces of the same crown.

“Of skin as delicate as the snowflake. Yet, so savage like the waves in the sea.” I stretched out my arm and fastened on his neck. “Like a knight in armor, your aura domineers. Your phrases erupt rainbows, and that I couldn’t reply no more.” He wears an indigo tunic and cream trousers with those elaborate sequins making the clothing more masculine and royal. “I didn’t know that the General can spout honeyed words as well.”

“Of course.” I took a breath and fastened the last of my jewelry. Hair tied into a sleek updo, with a few strategically-placed strands left loose to frame my face. Crimson red lipstick—the kind that stains anything it touches. This was war paint. “They won’t expect me, will they?” I asked. “They won’t,” Aemond grinned, then extended his arm. “Shall we?” I slipped my hand around his arm, feeling Sebastian’s eyes trail after me like a ghost. Aemond didn’t miss it either—he smirked, amused by the jealousy he was clearly provoking.

At least then I knew what I was accused of; now we knew close to nothing. Five painkiller pills later, I put on a fitted, knee-length light-blue dress with a shallow neckline and short sleeves. It was quite conservative but still presented my hourglass shape well enough for me to receive an appreciative growl from Tyrion. He was wearing a dark-gray three-piece suit with a black shirt underneath, but I wished he wasn't. The sight of him in that suit was so mouthwatering that I found myself unable to focus on anything else aside from him. "You're doing it again," he said as we were about to leave the chamber.

I walked over to the bed and sat beside Bjorn and just gathered him in my arms, drawing him close and burying my face in his hair to inhale the sweet scent of his shampoo. “Mom?” Bjorn wriggled in my arms. “Can you…” “Sorry.” I released him, leaning back, and wiped at my eyes. “You look great, kiddo. Do you like the clothes?” Bjorn nodded and looked down at the uniform. It was a dark blue tunic with silver embroidery along the edges, paired with black pants. “I do like it,” he said. “Gideon—I mean… Dad said it’s traditional. It’s a little hot, but not too uncomfortable.”

Which, of course, he did. He looked exactly as he always had—tall, broad-shouldered, handsome in that cold, architectural way. Dark hair perfectly styled. Jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Dressed in deep green that matched the Iron Claw colors, gold thread running through the fabric like veins of wealth made visible. And he was carrying gifts. Armfuls of them. Gowns in emerald green draped over one arm, the fabric catching the light. A velvet box balanced in his other hand. Two servants trailing behind him with more boxes, more bags, more things I'd never asked for and didn't want.

Odette took his hand, then came down gracefully. All the attention was on them. Rion wore a dark blue top with gold embroidery accents that looked gorgeous and elegant, while his comrades only wore plain white pants and black boots. As a formality and to show his status as a king, Rion put on a red robe that hung over his shoulders.

ELORA I stared at my reflection in the mirror. These were clothes tailor-made for me from the richest fabrics in all of Stormrider. Yet, it felt completely out of place. I felt out of place. My new warrior attire was rich and properly fitted to make me look…simply amazing. It was a dark steel-blue tunic, fastened at the waist with a silver embroidered belt shaped like wolves’ fangs, high leather boots hugging my calves, and a cloak the color of moonless skies.

I was only an afternoon's amusement, a horse girl with a curious pe Rhaegal hissed and dug sharp black claws into her bare shoulder as Dany stretched out a hand for the wine. Wincing, she shifted him to her other shoulder, where he could claw her gown instead of her skin. She was garbed after the Qartheen fashion. Xaro had warned her that the Enthroned would never listen to a Dothraki, so she had taken care to go before them in flowing green samite with one breast bared, silvered sandals on her feet, with a belt of black-and-white pearls about her waist. For all the help they offered, I could have gone naked. Perhaps I should have. She drank de