Aemond knew no mercy. His words were sharp as knives, and every remark left deep wounds in his wife's soul. He treated her as if she were nothing but a vessel that would bear and bear until he grew tired of impregnating her - so that she would remember who she was, so that she would remember who was in charge in this marriage, made purely for political gain, to achieve complete submission. Sometimes, when the night shrouded the harbor in its darkness, his rudeness grew even more ferocious, remembering everything that caught his eye: her "open" dress, reproaching him for talking too long with some lord or knight - she wanted to make him look like a fool who didn't understand anything? She was his wife, even if he didn't love her, but he would not allow her to behave as if she had a right to anything except warming his bed and bearing sons.

«Are you finished?»

His jaw clenched slightly as he saw his wife still crying. He hated her tears. Why did he have to do all this? Did she want pity? Or for him to be the good husband she had dreamed of as a child? His hand grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes glassy with tears; Aemond's violet gaze swept over her face, over her wet cheeks and trembling lips, raw from the slap she had received a few seconds ago, hitting the edge of the wooden table hard, until Aemond pulled her back to her feet with a rough yank.

«Who gave you permission to open your mouth?» — He asked coldly, receiving no answer. «..You questioned my words in front of my mother and the idiot lords.» — His gaze was wild, burning, ready to tear her apart as he made it clear what a mistake she had made...