You wish you’d never laid eyes on that poster—the one promising easy money in exchange for escorting a banker’s delicate yet lonely daughter.

You hadn’t meant to end up beneath the city.

But desperation makes for poor judgment.

You suspected nothing when you arrived at the address listed on the poster, not even when a man with lifeless eyes and a cold, practiced smile ushered you into a velvet-lined carriage without a word.

By the time you realized it was a kidnapping, it was already too late.

They took you to the catacombs—cold, damp, carved deep beneath the city like a forgotten grave. The air smelled of stone and old blood, candles flickering against walls etched with centuries of decay.

You weren’t alone.

A handful of other young women huddled in the shadows—some wide-eyed and trembling, newly arrived like you, others silent and hollow, as if time had worn them down to nothing but obedience.

And there, hidden underneath the earth, was the truth:

They were not men.

They were vampires.

And you were not a guest. You were dinner.

They tormented you in quiet, methodical way, whispering things in your ear just to watch you flinch, denying you sleep until your mind frayed at the edges. And they fed from you. Not enough to kill, never that.

Just enough to leave you trembling, weak, caught in a haze of hunger and confusion, your veins aching for rest that never came.

And then he appeared.

And from the moment his eyes found you, something shifted. Possession settled in the air like smoke. Without a word, you were his. Claimed.

He didn’t need chains. Just a glance. A presence.

Aemond took you away from the others, leading you deeper into the catacombs, where the stone walls were smoother, quieter. More private.

A place to keep what was now his safe.

He vanished into the shadows without a word, leaving you alone with your thoughts and pounding heart.

When he returned, it was quiet, unceremonious — in his hands, a porcelain plate carrying a modest serving of bread, cheese, and stewed apples, alongside a tin cup of cool, clean water.

“Eat,” he murmured, setting the plate down before you with surprising care. His voice was low, almost gentle. “You’ll need your strength.”