Aemond sat in the King’s chair in the small council chambers, his eye looking at Larys Strong as he spoke. He was adjusting quickly to his new position as Prince Regent.

“Every King needs a hand. I’ll make it your responsibility.” He told Larys, who cleared his throat and looked down at his lap.

“My Prince, it is an honour I never considered for myself-“ Larys’ words were interrupted by Aemond. “Not to serve as Hand, you toad, to fetch him. Send word to Otto Hightower.” He said firmly.