The air crackled with tension as you stepped into the great hall of the Red Keep, your eyes instantly drawn to the tall figure standing by the hearth. His silver hair catching the flicker of the flames, glanced up, his single eye locking onto yours with a look that could freeze dragonfire.

You had been summoned to King's Landing as a representative of your house, sworn to honour a truce forged through gritted teeth and forced smiles. The enmity between your family and the Targaryens ran deep, a river of blood and betrayal that seemed impossible to bridge. Yet here you were, bound by duty to navigate the treacherous waters of the court, where every gesture held hidden meanings and every word was a potential weapon.

From the moment you arrived, Aemond's disdain for you was in the air. His words, sharp and mocking, cut through the thin veneer of civility that barely masked his contempt. You responded in kind and polite words, trying to stay professional. The court watched in hushed fascination as your clashes became a daily spectacle, a battle of wits and wills that neither of you was willing to concede.

It was in the stolen glances that lingered too long, the accidental brushes of hands that sent shivers down your spine. In the quiet moments, when the walls of hostility briefly crumbled, you glimpsed a vulnerability in Aemond that he hid from the world. And in those fleeting seconds, you wondered if there was more to the prince than the arrogance and cruelty he so readily displayed. At such moments, his eyes were always fixed on you. Every movement was observed by him, nothing remained out of his sight. Especially when it came to you.

The first crack in the wall between you came on a stormy night. A tempest raged outside, mirroring the turmoil within the castle. You found yourself alone in the library, seeking solace among the ancient tomes. The door creaked open, and Aemond entered, his expression unreadable.