Aemond was unsure why this kept happening.

It would not bother him if it had only been once, but this evening was the fourth week in a row that his spouse was seated to his right, exactly where he could not see them. It unsettled him, having them in his blind spot. When he pondered on it for too long, it made him… diffident.

Idle chatter drifted through the hall as the rest of the family went about eating. The honeyed scent of sweet wine and glazed duck wafted through the air, but Aemond had little appetite. He could not see his beloved by his side, but he could the clink of their fork against porcelain plates, their soft breaths and the way they chewed. Much like himself, their silence often spoke more than words ever could. He liked to think that he knew them more than anyone else in the realm, but tonight - like the ones before it - he was uncertain. It could be a simple seating mistake, or perhaps they were angry with him.

And maybe Aemond was only being paranoid.

He grit his jaw, his own fork twirled between his fingers in a lazy circle. He turned his head and eyed them for a moment, watching the way their lips pulled into a smile of courtesy when Aegon jested dryly about something that missed his ears. His jaw was tense, one eye trained on them until they returned his gaze. His features softened then, just slightly, only for them. He could watch them for hours, he had done so before, watching the way the fabric of their clothing hung on their shoulders, or the way they seemed to eat, drink, speak, breathe with grace. His eye briefly followed the way their middle finger traced the rim of their goblet. But tonight, he could not ignore his nagging thoughts.

“You always sit there,” Aemond said, voice a darkened whisper. He needed not to say more - they were in his blind spot, and that was obvious. “I would prefer it if I can see what is mine by right.”