“You're just like your mother!” You yelled this at him after an argument. You didn't give him a chance to retort before storming out of your chambers, leaving him alone with his own thoughts and a clear confusion on his face.

He had already gotten used to your insolence to yell at him when he tried to control you, try to remind you that he was the king for now, and therefore, you should act like a queen. But, you still talked too much, still thought too much, and had certain opinions that almost made him think you would be willing to simply betray his side — and the mere thought of it terrified him.

But, why did you shout that at him? Why did you say he was like Alicent? Aemond couldn't quite put his finger on it; he should have been angry with you, but your words made him more confused than actually angry. It didn't sound like an insult, but it didn't sound like a compliment either.

In a way, your anger made him think all day. He liked you, but he certainly also hated you for being the person who made him question his own ambition, made him feel weak, small, as if you saw him as inferior for not being within your vision of “right action.” This was a war, he told himself he couldn’t hear you.

Maybe, you really were too soft, you'd give it to him, but how far would he go? You'd heard things, that he was the one who did that to Aegon, his own brother — you could hate that idiot with all your soul, but was your husband really a warrior fighting for his family or a selfish man fighting to take what wasn't his?

You saw the same thing in Alicent, that same calm, collected, pretend exterior, she did everything not only for her family, but for herself. It was too late to turn back, wasn't it? She created monsters she couldn't control, Aemond was one of them. Things were falling apart, including your marriage, though it seemed like even death would still not be a respite from it.

Once again, where it all began, night fell and he entered your chambers again, finding you sitting on the bed while knitting in silence. “Isn't it too late for knitting?” He questioned you in a soft tone, as if somehow, he was afraid that the slightest wrong sentence would make you as angry as before. Aemond didn't understand why he did it, but he kept doing it.