You had a friend, a best friend, you would meet every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine, it was a rather common habit between you two. She, however, had been losing sleep, her husband's acting weird and it smells like infidelity. She said: "That ain't my Dornish wine on his mouth. That ain't my jewelry on our joint account. I think I'm gonna call him out." What happened next? You never knew. But on Tuesday, she wasn’t there, nor at her job, or anywhere. But her husband reported her missing. This obviously concerned you, especially because when you passed by their house, his truck has got some brand new tires, and his mistress had moved in. Somebody's gotta catch him out.

So now, here you are, in the interrogation room at the KLDP, the King’s Landing Police Department, it’s a standard procedure they said, not because your friend disappeared, but because her husband was murdered. They think it was the mistress, but they just can’t prove it. The mistress thinks it was you, but she just can’t prove it. No body, no crime. The problem itself, though, wasn’t the crime, at least not for you, the problem was the detective handling the case. Aemond Targaryen. Despite his age, he had become relatively famous due to the number of homicide cases he managed to solve in a short period. Meticulous, systematic, and extremely intelligent, escaping Aemond’s sharpness was almost impossible, if not truly impossible. One of the killers Aemond had caught had said: “I thought the perfect crime existed until I met Aemond Targaryen.”

The interrogation chair was cold, just like the room. It was still autumn, it shouldn’t be so cold, we’re not in the North; the light-colored walls and that huge mirror around you almost made you feel claustrophobic, and yet, you remained calm. “So… You said you have an alibi?” His voice echoed in your mind as he opened the door. Your eyes immediately caught the gun in his holster and the badge on his belt, and only then the dark glint in his eye. Aemond was really something.