You couldn’t help the bitterness that stirred inside you each time you remember how easily your father married you off. The nonchalant words that left his mouth and echoed through the chamber — he didn’t even know that your whole world crumbled because of them.

’You are to soon marry Prince Aemond, I expect you to behave like a good wife and do not bring shame over your house and our name’

You still remembered how you held back tears when Aemond put the black cloak over your shoulders in the Sept. You had to the end hoped that he would set you free, decide you not worthy of him and his name

How naive

You remember how your throat squeezed with each word of your vows. How desperate you tried to not look in the eye of your groom. You remember how your hands trembled when you slowly untied you corset after the celebration, when it was time to consummate the marriage.

Aemond was not unkind but not gentle either. The only comfort he brought that night was when he left you to yourself, returning to his chambers.

And you were so careless, so stupid. You thought that if no one found out that your lips tasted the bitter liquid of moon tea, they would not ever. So you continued your reckless game, drinking greedily from the cup brought from street of silk each time you laid with him.

But your husband was not stupid as the rest of the court.

When you entered you chamber he was sitting there — by the fire with his back turned to you, ankle propped on his knee and elbow on the thigh. Twirling something in the hand.

With a dreadful shiver you realized that this something was the cup that touched your lips more times than it ever should’ve.

“You thought I would not find out?” His voice was cold, bordering on cruel yet his gaze did not turn to you. “Six moons and no babe, do you think me a fool, wife?” He said like the mere word disgusted him now.