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As I wake up the next morning, I stir slowly, my eyes fluttering open as the first golden rays of dawn filter through the ornate bedroom windows. With a content sigh, I reach out a hand, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of Aemond but the bed beside me is cold and empty. It hits me that his arms aren't around me like they were last night.
Furrowing my brow, I sit up, the plush bedding pooling around my waist. "Aemond?" I call out softly, my gaze sweeping the dimly lit chamber. There's no response, save for the gentle birdsong outside. I feel a flutter of unease in the pit of my stomach as I rise from the bed, wrapping the sheets around my frame. Where could he have gone so early?
As if on cue, the bedroom door creaks open, and my handmaidens fill in, their faces alight with the usual morning cheer.
"Good morning, my lady," the eldest of the group greets me with a reverent curtsy. I've told her many times there's no need for her to do so especially at her age. "I trust you slept well."
I nod, offering her a polite smile as Diana takes the sheet from me. "I did, thank you. But..." I hesitate for a moment for some reason. "Have any of you seen Aemond this morning?"
The handmaidens exchange a brief glance, and one of the young women in the center speaks up. "His Grace is in his study, my lady. He requested that breakfast be brought to him there."
I feel a faint prickle of confusion and embarrassment. It's unlikely for Aemond to sequester himself away so early, especially without me by his side. A small part of me can't help but wonder if I've done something to displease him. Possibly something last night.
"I see," I murmur, my brow furrowing slightly. "Thank you. I suppose I'll go speak with him, then."
My handmaidens nod and set about their usual tasks, gently guiding me towards the ornate dressing table. As they carefully arrange my hair and help me into a soft, flowing gown, I find myself lost in thought.
Is Aemond upset with me? Has something urgent arisen that required his immediate attention? The uncertainty gnaws at me, stirring a familiar anxiety that I have worked so hard to overcome.
Once I am properly attired, I dismiss the handmaidens with a grateful smile and I make my way down the winding corridors towards Aemond's study. The heavy oak door looms before me, and I take a steadying breath before raising my hand to knock.
"Come in," comes Aemonds muffled voice, and I push the door open, stepping inside. My husband is seated at his ornate mahogany desk, a stack of parchments and ledgers spread out before him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and he looks up with a start as I approach. "Maella," he says, his voice tinged with surprise. "I wasn't expecting you this morning."
I feel a pang of hurt at his tone, but I push it aide, offering him a gentle smile. "You were gone when I awoke. Just wanted to know that you were alright."
