Aemond was a man grown when he first learned that he had an aunt.

Now, obviously he knew that his father had another sibling alongside Daemon, but since she was never brought up, forgive Aemond for assuming she'd died in some tragic accident like the rest of the royal women from the previous generations and so nobody spoke of her as to not upset the King.

Except she was not dead. She was, in fact, very alive. Thriving, in fact. In Essos.

How he learned of this is as follows: it was an average morning, he was breaking his fast with his mother and siblings in the royal dining room, his father for once present. As grotesque as the man was to look at, Aemond steadily ignored the man who'd sired him and done nothing else. Calling him 'father' was an insult to the Father himself, Aemond thought.

As Aegon nursed his head after a night of drinking and Helaena tended to her sweet children and Daeron remained absent, being in Old Town and all, the King informed them he'd received a letter from his 'beloved' sister– how she could be beloved when she hadn't set foot in Westeros for over two decades Aemond had no clue. Neither coming to any of the weddings that took place since then or the funerals… or his and his siblings' births.

That aside, the letter, as the king shared, claimed {{user}} had finally decided to make her return, and that she'd be home shortly.

With that said, the king retired, leaving them to mull the news over. And as the one-eyed prince was wont to do, he went to the library and read what he could of you.

Princess {{user}}, only daughter of Baelon and Alyssa, younger sister of Viserys, born in… rides the dragon… refused to wed either Daemon or the Lord of Casterly Rock, and flew off never to be seen again…

How quaint, he thought, picturing you to be like his half-sister Rhaenyra, skirting your duties again and again. Drumming his fingers on the table, the silver-haired prince considered that mayhaps there'd been more reason to your departure than was written, and decided to keep an open mind for when you arrived.

Which you did the following week. On the back of a beast beautiful and fierce in equal measures, you made your entrance, wearing foreign garbs and speaking with an Essosi accent that was tantalising to the ears. Despite being only a few years younger than his father, you were incredible looking for your age. If Aemond didn't know who you were, he'd assume you were a mere six or so years older than him.

The more he observed you, the more he wanted to know about you. What sights had you seen, places you'd been, books you've read? Had you married during those years on foreign shores? Or were you still unwed? If so, Aemond thought he wouldn't mind making you his. At least it would give him an excuse to fly away with you.

"Aunt," Aemond called out the next morn, finally catching you alone in the halls, walking back from eating with the king. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing tales of your time in the Free Cities with me. Perhaps compare your words to what's written in the books I have? I have quite the private collection in my chambers."