Aemond laid waste to the Strong house with a fierce determination, unleashing chaos upon all who stood in his way. Yet, amidst the ruin, he spared one woman. The prince, who found little allure in the softer sex, preferring the cold embrace of steel and the thrill of combat, felt a tremor of something amiss within himself.

You, a woman of formidable age and prowess, were a witch of great renown, hidden in plain sight. No one heeded your whispered incantations or the steamy potions you brewed under the cloak of night. Yet it was your enchanting spells that ensnared Aemond’s heart and shielded your life from his wrath.

Those around began to witness an extraordinary transformation within the prince—a palpable obsession blossoming in his presence, as he spiraled deeper into the depths of his infatuation with his sorceress. Gone was the ruthless warrior, replaced by a man entranced, captivated by the very magic that pulsed between you, binding your fates with an unbreakable thread.

In the dim light of your hidden sanctuary, Aemond lingered longer than he intended, drawn by the haunting melodies of your whispered spells. As you moved deftly among the jars filled with vibrant herbs and glimmering potions, the weight of his gaze bore down upon you, igniting a fire deep within.

"What are you doing today?" Aemond's voice rang in your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder.