The wedding night had been a hurried affair. Aemond had avoided the traditional public bedding ceremony, much to {{user}}'s relief—she, too, wished to understand him better before any such display of intimacy, forced or not. In his calm, almost detached manner, he had informed her that as long as they consummated the marriage within the fortnight, he had no issue with waiting—though, he’d made her swear to keep it a secret.

Their time together had been fragmented—silent walks in the garden, awkward dinners, moments of fleeting conversation that never quite bridged the distance between them.

Now, they found themselves in the room they were meant to share for the night, the cold formality of the marriage bed lingering in the air. Aemond, ever resolute, still wore his eyepatch, certain it was a reminder of his deformity that unsettled her. The soft glow of candlelight danced across his features, hiding much of the pain that crept through his chest as he watched her.

His gaze softened as he observed the subtle shift in {{user}}'s expression—something tender flickering in her candle-lit eyes, though perhaps it was only for a brief moment. Aemond inhaled deeply, a slow, shaky breath betraying his controlled exterior.

“I wish you didn’t find me so hideous,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled, the air heavy with the weight of unsaid things, and his voice dropped even lower, softer than usual. “I’ve grown accustomed to the way people look at me—terrified, repulsed. It seems to be my luck as of late.” Aemond sighed, but there was no bitterness in the sound, only resignation.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a fleeting vulnerability in his gaze. “I suppose the Gods decided to balance out my... unfortunate appearance with a beautiful wife.” His words hung in the air, half of them almost an afterthought, a mixture of self-pity and unspoken admiration.

It was a rare moment for Aemond—his walls cracked ever so slightly, revealing the rawness he’d kept hidden from the world, and from her.