The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the room like thunder. Aemond remained by it, a smirk curling at his lips, amusement flickering in his single eye.

—"Too soft for you."

He drawled, crossing his arms as he turned to face you. You stood frozen, still processing what had just happened. Your betrothed—a Baratheon with a strong lineage but no dragon—had been all but thrown out of your chambers, dismissed in the most unceremonious way by Aemond, who hadn't bothered to be even remotely polite.

—"I could break this engagement if I wanted to."

The air between you felt thick, charged with something unspoken. Aemond smirked, just the slightest quirk of his lips.

—"After all…"—He murmured, his voice laced with arrogance.—"Your father would much rather wed you to a Prince with a dragon than to a mere Baratheon."

His certainty was absolute, as if he already saw the future carved in stone, as if fate had no choice but to bend to his will.