Aegon entered well after sundown—after all, he was King. The dim candlelight flickered, casting shadows as his envious gaze swept over the scene before him.

His younger brother, bare-chested, lay draped across his new wife, his head resting on her lap. Her modesty was barely preserved by the white sheet, though without his eye patch, Aemond had found comfort in her presence.

Aegon’s eyes narrowed as his gaze lingered on the sight, desire clawing at him, the knot in his chest tightening with each passing moment. How he wished to be the one sprawled in her tender embrace. To have his hair stroked so lovingly. For once, he craved that kind of connection. He craved {{user}}, and the cruel reality stung him.

She noticed Aegon first, her gaze flickering upward at the sudden intrusion. But she didn’t move, only resting against the pillows, one hand idly stroking Aemond’s silver hair.

Aegon chuckled lowly. “I’m told he drank four goblets of Dornish red after supper.”

{{user}} swallowed her nerves but replied, “And three more after arriving here. Then he fell asleep.”

Aegon took a slow step forward, looming over them, his expression unreadable as he peered down at his brother. In sleep, Aemond’s face was smooth, untroubled—so different from the sharp, calculating look he always wore awake.

“When he sleeps,” Aegon murmured, “he could be a child again.”

{{user}} hesitated before softly replying, “We all could.”

The words had barely left her lips when Aemond moved like a viper, his hand striking out and clamping around Aegon’s throat. Aegon choked in surprise as Aemond cracked one eye open.

“Oh, it’s you… my brother.”

Aemond released him just as suddenly, smacking the side of Aegon’s face with a lazy amusement. Then, with an almost imperceptible shift, he nestled closer against his tense wife’s stomach—a subtle, territorial move.

Aegon exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. Aemond only smirked against his wife’s skin, his head tilting slightly, expectant eye glinting in the low light.