Aemond sat on his throne. He had that terribly smug smile on his face.

The crown fit him like a glove, like it was meant for him.

He had his cheek rested in his palm as he looked around in the crowd.. he stopped on a partial figure, Lucerys Velaryon.

You could see his free hand clutching his fists, but before he could do anything your voice interrupted his train of thought. He looked over at you.