Aemond knew his thoughts were anything but gentlemanly, even if he did his best to mask them. Ever since Helaena’s new maid, {{user}}, had arrived at the Red Keep, her days had taken on a new, tantalizing distraction. Her silver hair and striking beauty marked her unmistakably as one of his House, although her status as a bastard left her lineage ambiguous. She could be his cousin, his half-sister, but he wouldn't ask. It didn't matter.

Unlike his brother, Aemond didn't typically waste time indulging such desires. His focus lies with his sword, his dragon, his studies with the Maesters, and his ambitions. But she’d awakened something in him that he couldn’t ignore—the man beneath the warrior. He found himself watching her whenever she was near, intending to be absorbed in something else, always attempting to hide his gaze. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

He noticed everything: the way she bent to retrieve a fallen book, the line of her collar revealing more of her breasts, the beads of sweat on her forehead during the summer's hottest days, the elegant arch of her neck when she held her chin high —so proud. He stored each detail in his mind, recalling them later when he found himself alone, indulging in fantasies of what it would be like to have her in his grasp. Having her hand in place of his, her mouth.

And here she was now, oblivious to his gaze as she meticulously organized the shelves, giving him barely a glance. He sat near the fireplace, book on his lap, fingers clenching as he felt the pulse in his temples. The tension clouded his good eye, leaving his vision blurred. Gods, I’m so pathetic.

“I’ll see you at first light, my prince,” Ser Criston said, rising after their long period of “reading.” Aemond barely registered his words, focused entirely on her. Now, with Criston gone, he was left with nothing but her maddening presence and the freedom to watch her back, unchecked.