At the grand final feast held in King’s Landing, the hall was adorned in lavish tapestries and flickering candlelight, every noble house seated in tense anticipation. King Viserys , worn but still kingly, sat at the head of the long table, presiding over the strained peace between his family.

Aemond, seated beside his mother Alicent, scanned the room. His single eye, sharp and calculating, passed over the faces of his siblings and the bastard siblings of {{user}} before it landed on her— {{user}} his niece. She sat quietly, unlike her bastards brothers, who murmured among themselves. She hadn’t joined in their taunts, not in all the years since the night of the incident with the dragon. She had always been different, and tonight she looked even more striking under the glow of the great chandeliers, her presence both dignified and serene.

The hall buzzed with conversation, but Aemond’s attention was solely fixed on her. A brief smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—rare for him—as he rose from his seat. The music shifted to a softer, more melodic tune, signaling the start of a dance.

Aemond approached her side of the table, his tall form cutting an imposing figure in his dark leathers. He extended his hand towards her, his face impassive but his voice soft as he spoke, “Would you honor me with this dance, niece?”

The table around her fell silent. Her brothers watched with narrowed eyes, their protective instincts flaring. Even Alicent and Rhaenyra paused in their silent standoff, their gazes drawn to the unexpected offer.