The air in the chamber was stifling, heavy with an unspoken tension that neither of you dared address. You stood in the doorway, your eyes rimmed red from grief but lacking the tears you’d already shed. Aegon sat slouched in his chair, a cup in hand, though for once it didn’t seem he’d touched the wine. His gaze flickered up as you stepped further into the room, your presence dragging him from his spiraling thoughts.

“Come here,” he said softly, his voice rough but steady. He gestured to the empty space beside him on the couch, the weight of his weariness visible in his posture.

As you hesitated, he sighed and set the cup aside. “Don’t just stand there like a stranger. Sit.”

When you did, he looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he reached out, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I know,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with guilt he didn’t bother to conceal. “I know what you’re feeling… but I don’t have answers. None of this—” He gestured vaguely at the room, at the world outside it, “—was meant to happen. Not to him. Not to us.”

His grip tightened briefly as if to steady himself before releasing you. “But you’re here. And that means something, doesn’t it?” He gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile, one that faltered almost immediately. “You… you’ll be all right. We’ll be all right.”

It sounded more like a plea than a promise.