Your brother’s cries pierce the air, a sorrowful lament that rends your heart. Awkward and trembling, you stand with tears welling in your eyes, beside Maester Orwyle who does his utmost to support the king. You had opposed this endeavor from the start, fearing it premature - the walking. Perhaps because you knew it would pain you to witness his struggle. Without warning, the crutch betrays him, and Aegon crumples to the ground. The sight of him sprawled upon the cold stone floor is a dagger to your soul, a torment you can scarcely endure.