aemond is sure this is a sick joke.

you are his betrothed, a relatively new agreement between your family and the targaryens, but the second you step out of the carriage, aemond wants to scream at someone for the mockery. for the pretty pink eye patch adorning your right eye. he's sure this is a prank his brother aegon is pulling on him.

the incident at driftmark is too fresh, the wound on his face not yet healed enough for a joke like this.

but the second you come closer, come into the sunlight, he can see the angry scars on the right side of your face. the anger dies in his throat. you and him match. he wonders if it was his mother's idea, to help him feel less alone, less isolated. he doesn't know how to feel about that. aemond wants to ask what happened; wants to know who or what savaged you so.

but he knows better, for now anyway. since the betrothal was agreed upon, aemond had worried that you wouldn't accept him, that you would be repulsed by his deformed face. but as he meets your eye with his own, there's an immediate, silent understanding between you two. "lady {{user}}, it's lovely to finally meet you." aemond says with a shy half smile.