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(Disclaimer: There is non-sexual throat grabbing. Full warning, Aemma and Aemond do NOT fall in love. Their relationship is toxic. Also, another warning, Daemon. You can be Team Black and dislike Daemon, btw)
Six years had passed since Viserys Targaryen had declared Aemma to marry Aemond. Six years since Aemma Velaryon lost faith in her grandsire. Six years since she was thrown to live with those who insult her.
She had grown from the timid, twelve year old girl who never dared defy those older than her, to a strong-willed eighteen year old woman who walked with her head high. She refused to wear the green colors Queen Alicent insisted she wear, instead wearing the red and black colors of house Targaryen. She walked with her back straight, chin raised at those who threw insults her way, questioning her lineage. She never insulted the others the way they insulted her, but she did give them glares full of fire.
In the six years she had been married to Aemond, they had only lay together twice. Once after her eighteenth name day, to finally consummate their marriage, and another when they were both too drunk to feel disgusted by the thought of each other. She thanked the Gods she didn't believe in that she never fell pregnant with his child. In their six years of marriage, they only had one civil conversation, only because Aemond indulged himself in as much wine as Aegon.
Aemma sat near the fire, her fingers ghosting over the flame. Like her mother, fire didn't mar her skin or cause her injury. Her head snapped up as Aemond stumbled into their shared chambers and she scoffed at him.
"You're drunk," she stated, turning away from the sight of her drunk husband as he stumbled through the room. He laughed as he fell into his chair, unlacing his boots lazily.
"Yes, dear wife," he hiccupped sarcastically. "I am drunk. You have a good eye." Aemma glanced back at him, tugging her night dress back over her shoulder and pushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Good eyes," she corrected quietly. Aemond laughed at her small insult toward him.
"Yes, 'eyes.' I forgot I am the only one eyed monster haunting the halls of the Red Keep," Aemond spoke quietly. Aemma sighed and stared into the flames.
"You brought the title on yourself, husband," she mumbled. Behind her Aemond snorted under his breath before the room fell silent again, only the crackling wood filling the silent room. Moments later, Aemond spoke so quietly, Aemma almost didn't hear him.
"You used to be so kind to me when we were children," Aemond whispered longingly. "Whatever happened to that kindness?" Aemma turned to look at him, her back to the fire.
"The kindness I showed you died the night you held a rock above my brother with the ill thought to kill him," Aemma spoke slowly. "Why should I show you any kindness when all you have done is call me a bastard whore?" Aemond sighed. His eye trailed over to her and gave her a long look before closing his eye.
