The chamber was filled with the murmurs of lords and advisors, the air thick with tension as the council deliberated over strategies, supplies, and the cost of war. But it wasn’t their voices that held his attention—it was yours. Every time you spoke, every time you countered a proposal or questioned a decision, he would tilt his head slightly, a small smirk threatening to pull at his lips. The tension in the room thickened, other council members exchanging wary glances. It was not uncommon for you and Aemond to engage in these verbal duels, though neither of you ever raised your voices. It was a battle fought with poise and restraint—thinly veiled barbs hidden beneath layers of civility.

—"You make things far more difficult than they need to be."

By the time the meeting concluded, Aemond was the first to stand, adjusting his cloak with an air of indifference. Aemond stepping into your path.

—"If only you’d agree with me."—He continued, his voice dropping to a low tone.—"this would all be so much simpler."

You could tell, despite the coldness in his words, that he enjoyed these debates as much as you did. Perhaps even more.