The sweet and sour taste of wine on his tongue, the tender sounds of harps in his ears and a breathtaking view.

That was how Aemond was greeted as his nightly walk had led him into the street of silk once more, trying to drown himself in wine and women.

In the dim light of the brothel he was unable to tear his violet gaze away from one of the dancers.

The flawless steps, the subtle smile on her full lips and the way she would dance like none of the men present were devouring her with their eyes.

Aemond had been pining for moons now.