He was not meant to be a husband, for how could he ever be a good one? His father never showed him any semblance of devotion, while his mother was more often than not impatient and choleric. The only love he'd ever been shown was destructive and conditional.
He knew your relationship with your father was near opposite his own and he had no idea how to console you. You lost your mother when you were young, so it had always just been the two of you. He felt helplessly stuck, mind reeling with possibilities of what to say or do next. Interpreted as rejection, his silence threatened to break the few remaining pieces of your heart.
You turned to leave the room. "I apologize, my Prince, for the disturbance. It was inappropriate of me-"
"No," he quickly interjected, his body moving to grab your wrist and stop you from leaving.
The contact startled you, but still, you did not pull away from him. Hesitantly, his hands took hold of yours and though the skin of his palms was rough from years of training, his touch was gentle.
Your hands were so very small in his own and he realized it was the first time he'd held them since the day he took you as his wife. For that, he cursed himself. He believed he was protecting you by remaining distant, but the fact you felt it necessary to apologize for coming to him inspired doubt in his mind.
"Oh, my dear wife," he murmured, his thumb moving to brush away one of your tears, "I wish my sympathies could better serve you. I cannot imagine your anguish."
Meeting his eye for the first time since you entered his chambers, you found a look there that was foreign to you.
"I would not desire it even for my worst enemy," you whispered honestly.
Your misery was written all over your face and it compelled him to offer you what little comfort he could.
Pulling you into his chest, Aemond did not miss your sharp, but shaky intake of breath. For a moment, your body was completely rigid against his own and he worried he had made a mistake.
His uncertainty was soon put to an end when you all but collapsed in his arms, body wracked with violent sobs. Supporting most of your weight, he tightened his grip around your frame and held you close.
When you started to gasp in between breaths, he worried that you were going to make yourself sick, so he took to rocking you back and forth steadily. His chin rested on your head and eventually you began to calm down, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.
"It hurts," you told him, feeling as if you'd been hit in the stomach by the hilt of a sword.
"I know, love."
In nearly any other circumstance, you'd have been over the moon, for it was the first time he'd ever used a term of endearment with you. Now though, it did little to lift your spirits.
"He was all I had," you croaked against his chest, queasy with guilt. You thought back to the letter you'd received from your father just yesterday, a half written reply laying on your bedside table. "He was all I had, yet I was hundreds of leagues away when he..."
Unable to finish your sentence, you hid your face against his body.
"You were in the place he wished for you to be, (Y/N), you mustn't punish yourself for that."
He stroked your hair as he spoke, hoping his words could bring you some bit of peace. You were exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and as if sensing your tiredness, Aemond made an offer he never had before.
"Would you like to stay here tonight, with me?"
Not that he had ever mistreated you, but such warmth was rare from the young prince. It made your eyes well up once more and you voiced a quiet agreement, hating the idea of returning to your lonely chambers.
He took it upon himself to hook one arm behind your knees and the other around your back as he lifted you off the ground. You made a noise of surprise, which Aemond silently regarded as endearing.
He placed you gently on his bed then sat down beside you. For a while, the only sound in the room was your quiet sniffling.
"There is no apology in the seven kingdoms that could make up for how I have neglected you, the one whom I should hold above everything else."
"My forgiveness is yours."
He noticed the way your hair was splayed out on his pillow and he took to twirling one of the strands around his finger. Your regretful, undue apologies still rang loudly in his thoughts and he was unsure if he would ever be free of the bitter self-reproach it aroused in his mind.
Your weariness was plain to him, so his next words were spoken softly. "I will look after you, tonight and always. I swear it."
He listened closely as your breathing evened out, relieved that you were free from your grief for the time being. Standing slowly, he rounded the bed and climbed in beside you, careful not to disturb your slumber.
He propped himself up on his elbow, allowing for a moment to admire your features. Leaning over, he placed a chaste kiss to your forehead.
"Sleep well, my precious wife."
It did not take Aemond long to join you in dreaming. When his eyes greeted the light of morning, he soon discovered that you had not yet awoken. However, he was content to find that you were now pressed against his chest in the safety of his arms.
- L o o k A f t e r Y o u
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