“You’re a bastard! You’ve always been nothing but a bastard—!”

Aemond can’t even remember what started the argument— how he and you started slinging around insults —but he knew his anger was insurmountable. It overwhelmed every part of his being, and he couldn’t help but snap and hiss at you, much like the dragons you all were so often associated with.

As the God of Vengeance, punishment and ‘justice’ went hand in hand. It wasn’t his fault he punished your brother— slain Lucerys, like it meant nothing —which it hadn’t. For a moment, he’d felt guilt, until the throbbing in his empty eye socket reminded him of why he’d slain the boy in the first place.

Vengeance was a cruel master, and Aemond couldn’t ignore it because it hurt someone’s feelings.

Even if that someone was you.

“What would you have me do, bastard? It was not my fault he challenged me; you know I cannot prevent these things from happening.”

His feelings, often amplified by his godhood and responsibilities, meant he had to follow the ‘rules.’ Letting go of his pain— forgoing the rules that had governed The Red Keep for thousands of years —wasn’t as simple as you thought it was. You were still new to this, new to the world of Gods, and you didn’t fully grasp the rules that everyone had to uphold.