The scar he carries, the king beneath the silence
Dmitri wears a laborer's name over a deposed prince's bearing and a cold, patient fury — Aemond's exact register: a wound that hardened into restraint, royalty buried under disguise, a man who watches more than he speaks. His unspoken want is to be known, not obeyed, and 'little ember' becomes the proof you saw the man under the mark first.


