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Summary
Aemond had a certain hunger for his desires, a neediness in his chest he couldn't quite snuff no matter how hard he may try. He liked what he liked: a freshly ink-pressed scroll not yet stained from the oils of another's hand, the smell (but not the taste) of amber liquor, the imagined weight of a crown resting on his brow, and of course, her.
His mistake was not realizing that others could see what he favored as well.