The fire crackles, its glow casting flickering shadows along the stone walls of Storm’s End. The storm rages beyond the castle, thunder shaking the very foundations, but inside, a different tempest brews.

Aemond stands before you, tall and unyielding, his sapphire eye gleaming with something unreadable—something far more dangerous than fury. His fingers twitch at his side, restless, as if he is barely restraining himself.

Lucerys grips your wrist, tense and bracing for a fight. “We’re leaving,” he says, though there’s a tremor in his voice. You both know that Aemond will not let you go so easily.

The corners of Aemond’s lips twitch into something that is not quite a smile. He tilts his head, gaze flickering between the two of you before settling on you alone.

“If you leave with him,” he murmurs, voice deceptively soft, “I will hunt you both.”

Lucerys stiffens beside you, but you remain still. Your heart hammers against your ribs, though you refuse to let it show.

Aemond steps closer, slow and deliberate, his presence suffocating. “Do you truly believe he can protect you?” he asks, his tone almost coaxing. “Do you think he is strong enough to keep you safe?” His gaze flickers to Lucerys, and he scoffs. “He is a boy playing at being a man.”

Lucerys’ grip tightens. “Let us pass, Uncle.”

Aemond ignores him. He reaches for you instead, his fingers brushing against yours—not quite a touch, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. His voice lowers, meant only for you.

“Stay,” he murmurs, “and I may yet be merciful.”

His eye holds you captive, an unspoken promise burning behind it. This is not merely a threat. It is a warning. A plea. A demand.

The storm howls outside. The choice is yours.