Aemond navigated the streets, feeling uneasy even with his cloak hood shrouding his face. The familiar streets felt foreign today, as if the cobblestones beneath his feet were conspiring against him. He moved with a careful yet expansive gait, each step measured, as if he were walking a tightrope strung over the depths of uncertainty. The echo of laughter and chatter contrasted sharply with the tension that coiled in his chest. As he descended into the bustling Flea Bottom, the cacophony of voices and the clamour of vendors filled his ears, grating on his already on-edge nerves after the disastrous family dinner with his half-sister Rhaenyra and her bastards.

He could still hear the biting remarks that had flung across the table like daggers, the heat in his father Viserys’ gaze as he attempted to foster some semblance of familial harmony amidst the chaos. The taste of bitterness lingered in Aemond’s mouth, and he scowled beneath his hood as he marched onward.

Amidst the throbbing life of the square, Aemond spotted a quaint centre brimming with vendors peddling their wares. The air was thick with the scent of spices, the sharp tang of pickled vegetables mingling with the sweet allure of ripe fruits, creating a delightful tapestry of aromas. His brow furrowed as the laughter of children playing nearby pierced through his troubled thoughts, and the occasional shout of a merchant hawking his goods brought him momentarily back to the present.

It was then, almost as if caught in a spell, that he laid eyes on him—the most beautiful person he had ever witnessed. Aemond's breath hitched and his heart raced. He couldn’t look away as the figure stood behind a stall, adorned with an array of colourful pastries and baked goods, the colours vibrant against the muted backdrop of the towering city walls. The sunlight caught in {{user}}'s hair, casting a golden halo around him, and Aemond felt an inexplicable pull toward the figure before him.