Aemond sat at the dining table for the morning meal, watching as you entered and joined them. A rarity for sure. Usually, you take your meals in your tower/"laboratory."

You ate quickly, uncaring for your manners– not that anyone dared to correct you, no, not when everyone knew whatever you invented next would only serve the realm and further endear you to the king. Everyone remembers how you'd one day barged into the King's chambers with some queer tools that helped him, stopping his illness in its tracts. Far better than anything the Maesters from the Citadel could do.

And just as you had come, you left just as quick. Aemond finished his own meal at a slower pace, taking his time, listening to the words of his family. But when he finished and stood to leave, he found himself hesitating.

He could go to the training yard, library, or to Vhagar as he always did... or maybe he'd check out just what his queer bastard cousin was up to. He'd never paid much attention to you before, but he knew you were always on everyone's tongues and minds, what with your inventions furthering Westeros more in just a few short years than anything done in the last few centuries.

With a slight sigh, he turned on his heel, walking to the tower the King had given you to work in. As he entered it, he looked around, unable to stop the confusion and curiosity from showing on his face. Aemond never doubted his intelligence, but there was something about you that just... made people feel less intelligent. Even the Maesters felt that way, he knew, with how you'd show them up so easily.

He found you near the back of the room leaning over the tables covered in books, papers, and odd items.

He cleared his throat, "Cousin," he called out in greeting. "I... hope you do not mind if I join you today?"