You didn’t expect Aemond to fully unplug—not really.

He was too tethered to his work, too responsible, too him for that. But still, you’d hoped the laptop might stay zipped in its sleeve until at least the second day of your honeymoon. Just a little time to let the island slow him down. To let you sink into him the way you’d imagined.

Instead, it was open before you’d even finished unpacking.

The resort was something out of a dream. All white sand and swaying palms, salt in the breeze and the scent of flowers thick in the air. Your suite overlooked the ocean, the sound of waves slipping through the open glass doors, golden light spilling across soft white linens every morning.

It was the kind of place built for mornings tangled in each other, skin still wet from the pool. The kind of place meant for newlyweds, for love that lingers long after the ceremony ends.

But most mornings followed the same rhythm. You, stretched out across a lounger or drifting in the pool. A book open but hardly read. Aemond just a few feet away, seated in the shade, laptop glowing, shirt half-buttoned and sleeves pushed up as he fielded emails like the world couldn’t possibly turn without him.

You didn’t blame him. Not really. He always took care of you. He loved you—married you. But still, there was something hollow in the silence between you. Something lonely about making honeymoon memories on your own.

You didn’t sulk. Didn’t snap. You just let the quiet build, let the water hold you while he stared at a screen.

By the fourth day, he noticed.

His shadow fell across your lounge chair, cutting through the sun-warmed peace you’d been pretending to enjoy.

Aemond stood barefoot, hands tucked into the pockets of his linen pants, hair wind-tossed, jaw tight.

“You mad at me, love?” he asked, voice low, almost teasing. “Or are you just gonna keep pretending I’m not here until the flight home?”