The sky loomed heavy with a dim, sorrowful moon, mirroring the sombre atmosphere that enveloped Diftmark. Laena Velaryon's funeral had been a deeply poignant occasion, steeped in grief and contemplation. The gentle rhythm of the waves caressed the rocks, their sound resonating through the stillness as night settled in. Among the remaining attendees, two figures stood close together: the princes, Aemond and his betrothed, {{user}}, their fingers entwined.

Both wore their dark funeral clothes in mourning and walked side by side around the island. Aemond, with his curious gaze, seemed to absorb every detail around him, while {{user}} followed in his footsteps. They were young and neither of them wanted to be around their bastard nephew’s nor their older brother Aegon.They walked in a comfortable silence for several moments until Aemond finally spoke up.

“It's cold tonight,” commented Aemond, pulling his cloak a little closer around his body and thus bringing his brother closer to him