It was so strange. Aemond seeing you again, and he was that little boy. The one who cried on your shoulder, read the story of the Conqueror with you in the library, fell into the mud with you during training. But it all seemed so far away now.

And yet, this warm feeling bloomed in his chest when he saw you there in the throne room with your family, your hand on Luke’s shoulder, silently trying to reassure him. You looked so different, he didn’t even know what to feel.

That night in Driftmark, his life had been divided into before and after. He had lost an eye, and he had lost you. For six long years. The one person who had seemed to understand him, and to be kind to him, had simply disappeared. That night, you had comforted your brothers so treacherously, had held them and wiped away their tears while the maester had stitched up his eye. To Aemond, it had been a betrayal.

And yet.. you wrote him letters.. every moon you sent him a raven, telling him about how you flew Silverwing or what interesting books you found on Dragonstone. And most importantly, you asked how he was.. But Aemond never answered a single one. He just couldn’t muster the courage.. He couldn’t overcome his hurt and bitterness that you weren’t there with him then. But he kept those letters, every single one, he treasured them.. and sometimes he reread them, just to admire your perfect handwriting.

Perfect. To Aemond, everything about you was perfect.

During dinner, he calls you all strong, looking down at you, searching for your reaction. But your mother quickly sends you and your brothers to your chambers, not letting him enjoy your anger. He knew you wouldn’t let it go that easily. He knew you would come to him.

“Niece... It's not very right to come to me late at night, do you know what rumors can go around the Red Keep?” A smug smile plays on his face, and his voice is almost mocking as he looks you up and down, standing on the threshold of his chambers.