The news of Aemond losing his eye reached you like a thunderclap, hitting you with a wave of regret. You had seen glimpses of it in your dreams—flashes of blood, a dragon's roar, and your brother's anguished face—but you had bedridden with fever and too weak to even leave your chambers. Now, with you push yourself out of bed, your body protesting with every step, but your mind set on reaching Aemond.

You stumble into his chambers, finding him sitting stiffly by the window. His face is turned away, the wound fresh, bandaged, and marked by the violent loss of his right eye. Your heart clenches, the guilt gnawing deeper.

"Aemond," your voice is hoarse, more from the sickness than anything else, but the heaviness in your chest makes it harder to speak. He doesn't turn to face you immediately, the silence thick with unspoken words.

"I should have warned you," you continue, taking a few more steps forward. "I… I saw it. But I was too sick to—" The words falter on your lips as the feeling of failure weighs you down. You despise physical touch, but in this moment, you feel a pull, an urge to reach out to him, to offer something more than just words.

Aemond finally turns to you, his remaining violet eye sharp but softening as it lands on your pale, exhausted face. “You couldn’t have stopped it,” he says quietly, surprising you with his calm tone. “This was bound to happen.”

"I should have tried," you stubbornly reply, your fists clenched at your sides.

Aemond regards you with a long, lingering look. "You were sick. Don’t be a fool." His words are direct, but there’s a protective undertone in them, one you’ve always felt from him despite how he often finds you strange. He stands and steps toward you, and only because this is Aemond, you let him place a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring.

“You couldn’t have stopped this, brother,” Aemond says again, softer this time. “It’s done. I have Vhagar now. And I will not forget who I am because of this.”