The sound of footsteps echoed through the Great Hall, but amidst all the noise that filled the corridors, Aemond’s heart beat faster at the sound of your presence. The door creaked open with a soft creak, and there stood, in all her majesty, Rhaenyra’s daughter —his niece, his temptation.

Aemond was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you, as if the distance between you were not a barrier, but a challenge. You were different. Taller, more mature, with your mother’s eyes —but the grace of the blood of the dragon still shone through you.

You stared at him without surprise, as if no time had passed. You knew how intently he watched you, even years after you last met. There was no longing in your eyes, only the cold, calculated reserve that Rhaenyra had always cultivated.

“Niece, it has been some time,” Aemond said, his voice husky, almost a whisper.

"Indeed, uncle," you replied, as calmly as ever, but your eyes were filled with something he couldn't understand. Maybe a repressed tension, a contained frustration.

Aemond took a step forward, closer, as if it were impossible for him not to come closer. "All these years without exchanging letters or seeing each other. And yet, I find myself here, waiting to see... the woman you've become."

You looked away, your discomfort evident. Aemond knew you still remembered the day Lucerys, your brother, had blinded him. He remembered it too. Every detail of that fight. But what was eating him now wasn't hatred, but something deeper, sicker. Something he didn't want to accept, but that consumed him from within. The obsession that kept him trapped every day.

"And I know what you think about me, about my mother and brothers. Don't expect things to change between us." You said bluntly, the memory of that night in Drifmark still etched in your mind.

Aemond remained silent, watching you intently. The attraction was unbearable, like a flame that was slowly consuming him. He hated you, but at the same time, he desired you with a strength he couldn’t control.