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"They say history is written in ink, but I found it written in blood. I just made sure it wasn't mine."
    The night Aemond Targaryen saw memories not his own, he knew exactly what fate had in store: a stolen dragon, a midnight brawl, and a dagger that would take his eye. He was determined to change the script. He prepared, he calculated, and he reacted.
    But when the blade came down, fate demanded a toll. He kept his sight, but the price was paid by another.
    "You were supposed to lose an eye!" Lucerys screamed, blood weeping through his fingers where his own eye used to be.
    "And you were supposed to take it," Aemond replied cold and clear, looking down at his trembling nephew with full, binocular vision.
    "I suppose we both disappointed the Gods tonight."
    From that night on, the One-Eyed Prince never existed. In his place rose something far more dangerous: A Regent, a Kingslayer, the Queen’s Husband.
    He knows how the story ends, and he has no intention of drowning.