Aemond felt madness creeping upon him, a shadow lurking just beyond his reach. The burden of duty and war pressed against him like an iron yoke.

When Aegon II’s usurpation began, Aemond’s task was to secure House Baratheon’s loyalty. Lord Borros Baratheon demanded an alliance, and a marriage was arranged between Aemond and one of his daughters. But fate intervened. Lucerys Velaryon death shattered the delicate negotiations, replacing vows with bloodshed.

With the war declared, House Baratheon remained loyal to the Greens, but the marriage agreement was left unresolved. Aemond returned to find Lord Borros’s daughters fearful of him, none willing to marry the dragon who had acted in fury—except for the youngest, {{user}} Baratheon.

She was sent to King’s Landing, and the moment she entered the Red Keep, House Baratheon’s loyalty was sealed. Aemond noticed her beauty, but more than that, her pride, ambition, and sharp wit. She met his gaze without fear, unlike the women who cowered before him. She was a storm, relentless, unyielding. Aemond was a dragon who had never learned to yield.

Soon, however, something else began to fester between them. She was too kind to Aegon. Her words were soft, her smiles too knowing, a calculated attempt to enchant the king. Aemond saw through it, and it infuriated him.

Then, fate struck again. Aegon lay broken, incapable of ruling. Power fell to Aemond. Prince Regent. The true ruler of Westeros. And with the crown came the marriage, hastened by necessity.

Now, seated at the head of the council table, Aemond’s gaze drifted to his new wife. His voice, cold and mocking, broke the silence.

“Did you crave the crown so desperately? Look at it now. Aegon lies broken. Your charms will do you no good."