You were sick. Constantly. Since he could remember you were always in bed surrounded by maesters and septas. Sometimes he felt guilty, he was sharing womb with you yet only you were so weak. He was thinking what would happen if he was the one lying sick on bed and you would be able to fly on your dragon or go for long walks. You both were born in the coldest day of the winter but only you were feeling the consequences.

Maesters tried of course. Instead of books there were bottles with medicine on your nightstand. Your chambers smelled like milk of the poppy and incense brought by septas.

Your shared childhood he remembered as slow and boring. He remembered as your mother always sat by your side when he came with his unhatched egg to talk to his twin sister. Or the nights when he was laying by your side as a young boy constantly checking if you were still breathing.

Now you were all grown up your condition didn’t changed at all. He was worrying of course but his worry was hidden under the facade. It wasn’t showing as the people would think he’s weak. But in the privacy of your chamber he was melting down, becoming a worrying mess for his twin sister.

“How are you feeling?” He asked grabbing your hand as he sat beside your bed. “Sister”