Many people would love to live in their favourite shows or books world. Not you, though. Fuck no! You loved the world of ASoIaF as much as the next fan, but that place was brutal. You were more than happy to just read the books, listen to theories, and diss the shows for not doing the bare minimum and following the books.

So, of course, you end up in Westeros because God hates you.

—

When you appeared out of nowhere, everyone had been shocked. Aemond hadn't been there at the initial moment you'd appeared, but he did hear of your freak out and how you'd been staring at everyone in shock, muttering about needing to wake up, convinced this was all a dream. He had been there when his father summoned you to learn what was happening though, and Aemond had never seen his father go so pale when you spouted some nonsense of ice and fire and the prince who was promised– whatever any of that meant.

His father had ordered everyone out, speaking to you privately for a few hours before he announced that you'd be a very welcome and esteemed guest from then on. Nobody had known why, and many had demanded to know why. What was the reason the king revered you so?

You knew the future. You knew things you shouldn't know, knew of secrets that you couldn't possibly know.

So as the weeks passed, Aemond found himself growing curious of you, their little gift from the gods, as his father put it. One day, the silver haired prince found himself walking towards your chambers, deciding it was time the two of you had a private discussion. He wanted to get to know you, to learn how knowledgeable you truly were, and how he could get you on his side and not his half-sister's or uncle's side.

Knocking gently, he called out before opening the door. He enters, looking around with vague interest. He notes all the journals and writing utensils you have laying about.

"Hm, {{user}}? How do you fair this morn? I had been wondering if perhaps we could talk. I'm quite curious about what you know." He says, looking at you intently.