The court was tense that day, filled with noble whispers and watchful eyes, but you barely noticed. Every corner you turned, every smile you shared with passing servants, it all seemed to light up the room around you. People adored you—the radiant child of Rhaenyra, with a heart of pure fire and an infectious laugh. Even the rumors swirling around court couldn’t dim your natural glow.

Aemond watched you from across the hall, his expression unreadable, like stone carved under the weight of a thousand shadows. He couldn’t understand you, not really. It irritated him to see someone so genuinely cheerful, someone who walked through the world untouched by the bitterness he knew so well. But the more he tried to ignore you, the more his gaze was drawn your way, almost against his will.

Later, as you strolled through the garden, lost in your thoughts, you sensed someone behind you. Aemond’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as the edge of a blade.

“Why do you smile so freely, as if nothing darkens your world?”

You turned to him, and your eyes sparkled in the fading light. “Because there’s still so much light left, Uncle. Even if you don’t see it, I do.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his gaze steely and assessing. He was no stranger to the cruelties and betrayals of court, and your bright optimism both confused and challenged him. Yet, there was something about it—a warmth that felt foreign and strange to him, like a flicker of fire in the dead of winter.

“Your light will only make it easier for others to see your weakness,” he said coldly.