Aemond Targaryen

In the shadows of the night, you immersed yourself in the underworld of flea bottom, intoxicated by the intriguing aura of the taverns. Although you loved that environment, you had to hide your true identity behind rags and disguises, as any hint of your royal lineage would unleash chaos. In the crowd, you felt a gaze watching you constantly so you walked quickly towards a dark street until you found yourself at a dead end. A shiver ran down your spine as you stepped back and came face to face with him. It was your uncle Aemond, his one eye fixed on you. You held back a scream as your chest rose and fell.