I awoke that morning to movement within the bed. My eyes slowly peel open, and I wince at the harsh sunlight–I see a body next to me and begin to panic. Once my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I relaxed; it was Aemond. "Good morning," his voice groggy and deep.

I groan and push my face deeper into the side of his body, which earns a chuckle from him. He pulls the blanket away from my hidden face, and I open one eye to look at him. "We can't stay here forever," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

"Why not?" I mumble and smile up at him.

He shakes his head at me, "because, you and I both have duties to attend."

I groan and watch as Aemond pulls himself out of bed, starting his morning routine. I hold a pillow close to me as I admire him getting dressed for the day–how his back muscles ripple and his arms tense. I could stay in this moment forever. Once fully dressed, he returns to the bed and throws the blanket away from my body.

I squeal as the cold air hits my warm skin, and without a moment to react, Aemond has scooped me up from the bed and is holding me tightly against him. "Princess," he hums, "will I have to dress you myself?"

I shake my head and smile up at him. "I have no dresses here," I said as Aemond placed me on my feet.

"I'll fetch you some, just wait here." I watch him leave the room and admire his room by myself.

I walk to his desk, where a book on High Valyrian is open. My fingers trace over the words on the page, and I mumble some of them to myself. My mother had been admit I learned the language of our people. Next to the book were three different eyepatches, all with varying degrees of beauty–one was more casual and just made from leather, another had stud details of where the straps connected to the patch itself, and the last one had the symbol of House Targaryen stamped in the middle and filled with dark blue pigment.

I pick up the blue one and hold it in my hands, admiring the craftsmanship. My fingers lightly trace the symbol of my house and smile, thinking about how good Aemond would look wearing this one. A moment later, the door opens, and Aemond walks in, holding three of my dresses.

"I couldn't decide which one I'd prefer to see you in," he said, carefully placing all three dresses on the bed. He's picked some of my best dresses.

One is my black and red one, similar to the ones my mother wears, and another is a blueish-green coloured one with blue detailing along the sleeves–the last one was my favourite. It was light blue with sleeves made of lace that cuffed at my wrists, small symbols of each significant house in Westeros along the neckline in a darker blue; this was a formal event dress I'd wear when meeting the lords.

I pick up the blueish-green dress and hold it to my body, giving a little twirl for Aemond. I see him smile, and he walks over to me, taking the dress from my hands. "Did you need my help, princess?" He asks.

"You have places to be," I chuckle, "but if you would like to help me with my hair." It was tangled and all over the place, not the right look for a princess.

He guided me over to his desk, picked up a hairbrush and lightly began brushing my hair. I smile, feeling his fingers brush over my neck and sigh as Aemond's scent gently touches my nose. "Husband," I question, eyes closed.

Aemond hums in response. "Do you sleep with your patch on?" I ask, fiddling with the materials of my nightgown.

"No," he mumbles, placing the brush down and braiding two strands of hair back for me.

I open my eyes and pick up the blue eyepatch again. "When would you wear this one?" I asked, retracing the blue.

Aemond finishes braiding my hair, and I swivel to face him. He studies my face with his blue eye, touching the sapphire on my neck and lightly stroking my hair, "maybe one-day dear wife."

It's my turn to hum in approval, and he leaves me to get dressed with the help of the servants. When I was done, he told me to find him in the training yard. After dressing, I start making a beeline for the training yard, excited to see Aemond in action again. He was a brilliant swordsman and could best so many men in combat, and that was always a sight to see–my husband was a warrior through and through.

I turn a corner and see Aegon standing at the other end, speaking with Ser Criston Cole–two cunts in one place. I stand frozen for a second and begin to panic. I had been avoiding him for as long as possible, and now here, Aegon stood. I turn to make my escape before Aegon notices I'm there, but it's too late.

"Princess Visenya!" He calls, and I hear his footsteps approach.

I curse to myself and turn around, a smile plastered on my face. I hid my fear as Aegon stopped before me, too close to comfort. "Yes, Prince Aegon?" I ask in a sickly sweet voice.

My heart was racing, and my hands were shaking; I could feel the urge to cry coming to the surface. My thoughts were whirling severely. Flashbacks of the things Aegon had done to me blurred my vision; I had almost missed what he said.

"Where have you been as of late, princess?" He asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

My lips began to tremble, and a small whimper left my lips which made Aegon smile. He knew the fear he struck into my heart, and he used this to his advantage every moment he got. I could feel the tears threatening to spill over at any moment, but with Ser Criston Cole at the end of the hallway watching us, I kept my composure and confidence.

"With my husband," I said, which came out more as broken fragments of words in a hushed tone.

Aegon's smile only grows at my weakness, and he leans close to my ear, "I'll come to find you later."

Aegon quickly leaves with a cruel laugh, and I stand there frozen. I am frozen in my place until the two men leave, and then the tears begin to flow. I almost run to the training yard, where I find Aemond sparing with another knight and a wicked smile on his face.

I stand in the shadows, hidden from most people's sight until Aemond sees me and beckons me over. He smiles widely until he sees my face, and the smile drops quickly. He runs over to me and grabs one of my shoulders tightly, looking down at me–I refuse to meet his gaze, afraid of what he or other people would think of me in this state.

"Visenya, what's wrong?" He's confused as to why I am in tears. I had left him this morning with smiles, but now, not long after, I was crying.

I aggressively wipe the tears from my face in frustration, sniffling and panting. Aemond takes my face in one hand and strokes my cheek with his thumb; he pulls me in tightly and strokes the back of my head, trying to calm me. I grip his vest tightly between my fingers and try to force myself to calm down.

I start breathing deeply, letting the comfort of Aemond's aura calm me down. He is warm and smells like leather and sweat, maybe with a hint of fire. His arm holds me tightly against him, and I can hear him speaking words of comfort in my ear, but I can still hear the anger dripping from his words.

Once I am finished crying, I pull away from him at look up at him through glassy eyes. He is fuming. He looks around the training yard and holds his sword, threatening everyone. "The next person who dares to even think about threatening or hurting my wife," he bellows, chest rumbling against my cheek, "I shall carve your eye from your skull and turn your teeth into a gift for my wife."

The yard is still–nobody dares to make a sound. "Am I heard!?" Aemond yells, making me jump. Everyone within earshot quickly mumbles something along the lines of 'yes, Prince Aemond' before returning to what they are doing.

I look up at Aemond, and he looks down at me with a slight smile. "Thank you," I whispered for only him to hear.

"Anything for you, princess," he said, kissing my forehead.

–––––

A week goes by with no unpleasantries, and my week is only one of smiles and laughs. Aemond and I had spent every day together as he refused to leave my side since I came crying to him a week ago; my personal guard. He held me tightly every night we fell asleep, and I awoke in his arms every morning. We would both do each other's hair for the day and pick out what the other would wear–one day, he tried to dress me in a green dress but said he hated that colour on me, and I returned to my traditional blue dresses.

He would allow me to add something blue to his everyday black outfits now and then. Some days it would be the band that tied his hair, and others would be a dark blue leather shirt under his vest–he did not complain once. The moments we shared would always be burned into my mind, no matter where I was. Though we had not consummated our marriage officially or even shared a kiss, the Queen and Hand seemed pleased with our union.

Every day I would write letters back to Dragonstone under the weirwood tree while Aemond practised with a dagger in front of me, and I enjoyed every moment of it. I kept my mother informed of how I was getting along in Kings Landing and of her father's health; she always wrote me back with news on my younger brothers.

Sometimes, Aemond took me to the training yard late at night and helped me practice with the sword. Over a week, I had already improved rapidly but never enough to bet Aemond in a duel.

"You'll have to try harder next time, my dear," He said, holding the tip of the sword under my chin.

I smile as I write my following letter, remembering how cherished that moment was to me. I look up at Aemond, turned away from me, twirling a dagger in his hands. His hair blows in the wind, and half of it is held up with a blue band; he never goes anywhere without having that blue band in his hair.

Aemond turns back to me and jogs over, tenderly kissing the top of my head. "How is this letter coming along, dear?" He asked, towering over me.

"Almost ready to send," I reply, smiling.

Aemond nods and goes back to his practice. The smile falls from my face as I watch him. I knew he was constantly being gentle with me, but some days I wished he had stolen a kiss or two. It was becoming harder to resist him as we slept beside each other. His hands would always trace circles on my back to help me sleep, and he would look down at me with one dark blue eye. I always watched him intently and took in every feature he had.

He refused to remove his eyepatch, which only made me desire him more. Although we had become close, I still knew nothing about him, and he refused to open himself to me. When his hands would take my face in his hands, and his thumb would run along my bottom lip, I had thought he would kiss me, but as we got close enough, he would kiss anywhere but my lips.

I was becoming impatient as every day came and went. I could see Aemond's desire to kiss me in his eyes, and I knew he could see it on my face, but he refused to kiss me. I could tell the people of the court knew we had not consummated our marriage or even shared a kiss–the whispers were driving me to the edge.

I wanted Aemond to kiss me, and I wanted him to desire it so badly we could not resist one another.