Aemond Targaryen
c.ai
“Kepa,” you greet Aemond. He is sitting in the library, nose shoved between the pages of a book.
“Ah, my favorite niece. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Kepa,” you greet Aemond. He is sitting in the library, nose shoved between the pages of a book.
“Ah, my favorite niece. To what do I owe the pleasure?”