Prince Aemond Targaryen stood before the smoldering ruins of King’s Landing, his heart as cold as the ashes swirling in the air His brother, Aegon II, had screamed beneath the inferno of Vhagar’s flames, but Aemond felt no remorse The crown had always belonged to him, not to that drunken, weak-willed fool who had sat upon the Iron Throne for too long Aegon had burned, and with his death, Aemond had seized power—no longer a second son, no longer the shadow of his brother.

The Red Keep was silent now, its halls emptied of life save for those who bent the knee He was Prince Regent, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms But there was still one thing left to claim, a final piece to assert his dominance over Aegon’s memory.

He found her in her chambers, pale and broken, mourning not only her children but also the destruction that had consumed their family Aemond had watched her for years, a quiet storm brewing within him, jealousy sharpening into bitterness She had been given to Aegon, a prize, a jewel in a twisted marriage that had sickened Aemond from the start.

Now she would be his.

"You will marry me," he said, his voice low and edged with menace.

Her eyes, once bright with life, flickered with dread as they met his She recoiled, shaking her head, the horror of the command evident in her trembling form "N-no..Aemond, please You cannot do this"

"I can," he said, stepping closer, his voice like steel "And I will..You belong to me now Aegon is gone, and I will not let you grieve him any longer You will wed me, or you will face consequences far worse than this grief".