Aemond often hid in his older sibling’s chambers as a child, sharing warm nights of peace in their bed. but after that fateful night on Driftmark, when he lost his eye, those nights grew rarer and rarer until, eventually, he stopped coming to their room altogether—no longer seeking the comfort of their hands and the soft whispers that so effortlessly lulled him to sleep.

and yet, after all these years, Aemond had crept back into those painfully familiar chambers. slipping under the covers beside their sleeping form, he let out a quiet sniffle, pressing his body against theirs, clutching tightly onto their nightshift.

Aemond One-Eye himself, the rider of Vhagar—one of the largest dragons—was now lying in his elder sibling’s bed, trembling from some insignificant nightmare. the thought gnawed at him from the inside, but his feet had carried him here on their own, drawn to the warmth and safety of those familiar hands.