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The heavy silence of the Red Keep weighed down on you like a suffocating blanket. The news of Jaehaerys’ murder had spread like wildfire, a cruel echo that seemed to linger in the cold stone walls. Your nephew’s laughter, once so lively, had been extinguished, and with it, a piece of your brother, Aegon.
You found him in his chambers, sitting in the dim light of a flickering hearth. His golden hair was unkempt, his once-proud posture hunched over as he stared blankly into the flames. The crown, a symbol of the burdens he bore, sat discarded on a nearby table. His hand clutched a goblet, but the wine inside was untouched—a rare sight for Aegon.
“Brother,” you said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look up, but his shoulders tensed at the sound of your voice.
You crossed the room, your skirts brushing against the stone floor, and knelt beside his chair. His eyes, red-rimmed and filled with unspeakable grief, met yours for a fleeting moment before he turned away. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t... I don’t deserve company.”
“Don’t say that,” you replied gently, placing a hand on his arm. He flinched but didn’t pull away. “You’ve lost your son, Aegon. No father—no man—should bear that pain alone.”
At that, his carefully maintained facade shattered. He let out a choked sob, dropping the goblet to the floor with a dull clatter. “It’s my fault,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I put him in harm’s way. I... I failed him.”
Tears streamed down his face, his grief uncontained and raw. Without thinking, you stood and pulled him into your arms, guiding his head to your chest. He didn’t resist, burying his face in the fabric of your gown as his sobs wracked his body.
“You didn’t fail him,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the ache in your own heart. “The fault lies with those who sought to harm him, not you. Jaehaerys knew he was loved—by you, by all of us. That love is something they can never take away.”
Aegon shook his head, his hands clutching at your waist as though you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart entirely. “He was just a boy,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your chest. “My boy.”
Tears pricked at your eyes as you held him tighter, weaving your fingers through his tangled hair in a soothing motion. “I know,” you said softly. “I know, Aegon. It’s cruel, so cruel, but you are not to blame. You loved him, and he knew that. He knew.”
His sobs gradually quieted, though the tension in his body remained. He stayed in your embrace, his breathing uneven as he clung to you like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. You stroked his hair and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, whispering words of comfort even as your own heart broke for him.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to keep going,” he admitted. “How can I face a world without him?”
“You will,” you said, your tone resolute. “Because you are stronger than you believe, Aegon. And because you have people who need you—who love you.”
He looked up at you then, his violet eyes filled with pain and something else—something fragile but unmistakably hopeful. “Do you love me, Y/N?” he asked, his voice raw.
“Always,” you replied without hesitation, your hands cradling his face. “I have always loved you, Aegon. As your sister, your confidante, your friend. And I always will.”
He leaned into your touch, his grief momentarily giving way to gratitude as he closed his eyes. For the first time since the tragedy, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps he wasn’t entirely alone.
And in that moment, holding him as the fire crackled softly in the background, you vowed to be his strength—for as long as he needed you.
As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, the weight of the moment lingered, heavy and unspoken. Aegon’s trembling began to subside as he rested against you, his head still cradled against your chest, his breathing ragged but slowly evening out. The silence between you wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable—it was raw, a fragile space where neither of you needed to speak to be understood.
You continued to weave your fingers through his hair, the repetitive motion grounding for you both. His golden locks, usually shining and meticulously kept, were mussed and damp with tears, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was holding him together when it felt like the world had broken apart.
“Aegon,” you whispered, breaking the silence. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”
He stiffened slightly in your arms, his voice low and almost bitter. “I do. I’m the king. I wear the crown. This... this loss is mine to bear.”
“No,” you said firmly, cupping his cheek and guiding his face upward so his glassy violet eyes met yours. “You are not just a king. You’re a man. You’re my brother. And no man—no matter how strong—can carry the weight of this alone.”
His lips trembled as he stared at you, his usually sharp features softened by grief and exhaustion. “But what if I’m too weak?” he asked, his voice breaking. “What if I can’t be what they need me to be?”
“You’re not weak,” you replied, your voice steady as you rested your forehead against his. “Grief doesn’t make you weak, Aegon. It makes you human. And the people will understand that. I understand that.”
His hands tightened slightly on your waist, anchoring himself to you as though you were the only thing tethering him to the present. “I don’t want to be king,” he admitted, his voice trembling with a mixture of despair and vulnerability. “I never wanted any of this. I just wanted my family—my children—to be safe.”
The confession made your heart ache. You knew the weight of the crown was a burden he had never sought, a responsibility thrust upon him in a world fraught with betrayal and bloodshed. And now, the murder of Jaehaerys had made that burden unbearable.
“I know,” you said softly, your thumb brushing away a stray tear from his cheek. “And I would take that weight from you if I could, Aegon. But you don’t have to face it alone. I’ll be here, every step of the way. You have me.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze searching yours as though looking for something—reassurance, belief, or maybe just the promise of your unwavering presence. Then, with a quiet, shaky sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.
“Don’t let go,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Please, Y/N. Just... don’t let go.”
“I won’t,” you promised, pulling him closer, holding him as if you could shield him from the cruel world outside. “I’ll never let go.”
The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, the flickering fire casting long shadows across the room. Slowly, Aegon’s breathing evened out, his body relaxing against yours as exhaustion finally claimed him. You adjusted his position carefully, letting his head rest on your shoulder as you cradled him, your fingers still threading through his hair.
As his quiet breaths filled the room, you whispered, “You don’t have to be the king right now. You’re just Aegon, my brother, my heart. And I’ll always protect you, no matter what.”
His grip on your waist tightened slightly in his sleep, as though even in his dreams, he was holding onto the only constant in his life: you.
And as the fire burned low, casting the room in a soft, golden glow, you made a silent vow to yourself. Whatever came next—whatever battles, losses, or burdens awaited—you would be his shield, his anchor, and his sanctuary.
Because that was what love demanded. And your love for Aegon, fractured and complicated as it was, would never waver.
As the fire’s glow dimmed and the chamber settled into quiet stillness, you continued to hold Aegon close, your own exhaustion slowly creeping in. His breath was steady now, his body no longer trembling as he leaned heavily against you. It was a vulnerable moment, one that reminded you of the boy he had once been, long before the weight of the crown and the bloody cost of power had crushed the light in his eyes.
You rested your cheek against the top of his head, your fingers trailing gently through his golden hair. The rhythmic motion calmed you, a small comfort in the storm of grief that swirled around both of you. It was only as the fire hissed faintly, a log collapsing into ash, that Aegon stirred slightly, his arms tightening around your waist before he spoke, his voice low and rasping.
“Do you think he hated me?” His words broke through the quiet like a dagger, raw and filled with self-loathing. He didn’t lift his head from your shoulder, as if afraid to face your response.
You froze for a moment, your heart clenching at the pain in his voice. “Aegon,” you began softly, turning your head so you could look down at him. “Why would you say such a thing?”
He sighed, a long, shuddering breath, and finally pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His violet eyes shimmered in the low light, brimming with anguish. “Jaehaerys was innocent,” he said, his voice breaking. “He didn’t understand why things were the way they were—why his father had to make choices that put him in harm’s way. He must have thought I was weak, or cruel. That I didn’t care enough to protect him.”
You cupped his face gently, your thumb brushing against the rough stubble on his cheek. “No,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “Jaehaerys adored you, Aegon. He didn’t see the crown or the throne. He saw his father—a man who loved him more than anything. And he knew you would have done anything to keep him safe.”
Aegon’s lip trembled, his eyes closing as fresh tears spilled down his face. “But I didn’t,” he whispered. “I failed him. I failed as a father... as a king.”
“No,” you repeated, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “You didn’t fail him, Aegon. The world failed him. This cruel, bloody war failed him. You loved him with all your heart, and he knew that. Don’t let anyone, not even your own guilt, convince you otherwise.”
He leaned into your touch, his forehead pressing against yours as if your closeness was the only thing keeping him from falling apart again. “I don’t know how to live with this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “The pain... it’s too much.”
“You live with it by letting yourself feel it,” you said softly, your other hand slipping into his hair once more. “You don’t bury it, or drown it in wine. You let it hurt, and you let yourself grieve. And when you can’t carry it on your own, you let me help you.”
He let out a shaky sigh, his breath warm against your cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.
“You’re my brother,” you replied simply. “You’ll always have me, Aegon.”
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, his arms tightened around you again, pulling you closer as if he were afraid to let you go. “Stay with me,” he said, his voice raw. “Just for tonight.”
“Of course,” you whispered, holding him as tightly as he held you. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You guided him to the bed, helping him lie down as his exhaustion began to overtake him once more. Without hesitation, you settled beside him, your arms still around him as his head found its place on your chest. He clung to you like a child seeking solace, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him.
As you lay there, the fire now little more than glowing embers, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of Jaehaerys, of the war, of the pain etched into every corner of Aegon’s soul. But for now, you focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his presence, and the unspoken bond that had always tied the two of you together.
Whatever lay ahead, whatever new losses and burdens awaited, you would face them together. Because Aegon was your brother, your king, and your heart—and you would never let him face the darkness alone.
The dim glow of the fire’s dying embers bathed the room in a faint orange light, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Aegon’s breathing grew deeper and steadier as he lay nestled against you, his face half-hidden in the fabric of your gown. His grip on you, though looser now in sleep, was still there—his fingers resting lightly against your side, as though he feared you might slip away in the night.
You stayed awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts heavy. Jaehaerys’ absence loomed like a shadow over everything, an open wound that neither time nor words could hope to heal. His laughter, so bright and pure, was now just a memory. And as much as you grieved for him, you also grieved for Aegon—for the man who had been your closest companion since childhood, now reduced to a broken, grieving father.
You ran your fingers gently through his hair, soothing yourself as much as him. His golden locks were softer now, no longer damp with tears, and you let the repetitive motion calm the storm of emotions inside you.
“I won’t let this destroy you,” you whispered softly, your words meant for the sleeping man in your arms. “You’ve endured so much, Aegon. I won’t let this break you.”
He stirred slightly at the sound of your voice, a soft murmur escaping his lips. You couldn’t make out what he said, but the sound tugged at your heart. He was so vulnerable like this, stripped of the armor he wore in the court and on the throne. To the realm, he was King Aegon, the second of his name. To you, he was simply Aegon—your brother, your closest friend, the boy who had once held your hand when you were afraid of the dark.
The hours crept by, and eventually, the weight of exhaustion began to pull at you. But just as sleep started to claim you, Aegon stirred again, his fingers tightening against your side as his eyes fluttered open.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re still here.”
“Of course I am,” you replied, your hand still running through his hair. “I told you I wouldn’t leave.”
His violet eyes searched yours in the dim light, glassy with lingering emotion. “I dreamed of him,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “Jaehaerys. He was laughing, calling for me... and I couldn’t reach him.”
Your chest tightened, and you cupped his face gently, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “He’s at peace now, Aegon,” you said softly. “No one can hurt him anymore.”
“But I can’t see him,” he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes again. “I can’t hold him.”
“You will,” you promised, your voice steady despite your own tears. “One day, you’ll see him again. Until then, I’ll be here to remind you of him—to make sure you never feel alone.”
His lips trembled, and he buried his face against your shoulder again, his breath shaky. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured. “I don’t deserve it.”
“You do,” you insisted, holding him tightly. “You always have, Aegon.”
He didn’t reply, but his arms wrapped around you, pulling you even closer. You stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of shared grief and unwavering love. The fire’s embers finally faded to black, and the room grew cold, but you didn’t care. In that moment, you were his warmth, his anchor, his sanctuary.
And as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, you whispered a silent vow to yourself. No matter what trials lay ahead, you would be his strength, his solace, and his hope. For as long as he needed you, you would be there. Always.
As Aegon’s breathing settled into the deep rhythm of sleep, you carefully stood from the bed. Your fingers lingered briefly on the edge of the linens, watching him for a moment. He looked peaceful—almost childlike in his rest—his face free of the usual burdens that seemed permanently etched into his features when he was awake.
You slipped out of the room quietly, your bare feet making no sound on the cool stone floors of the Red Keep. The events of the last day still weighed heavily on your heart, and you felt a pull to seek fresh air, a reprieve from the stifling weight of the castle’s grief.
Stepping into the courtyard, you were greeted by the crisp scent of the morning air. The sunlight filtered gently through the trees, dappling the ground in patches of light and shadow. As you wandered toward the edge of the garden, you caught sight of a familiar figure.
Aemond sat with his back against a gnarled tree, one knee drawn up while the other leg stretched out in front of him. His posture was uncharacteristically slouched, his silver hair loose and falling into his face as he stared blankly at the ground. His sword rested beside him, untouched, a stark contrast to the Aemond you knew—always composed, always poised for action.
“Aemond?” you called softly, approaching him.
He didn’t look up, but his shoulders tensed slightly at the sound of your voice. You took a few steps closer, stopping just a pace away.
“Are you alright?” you asked, your voice gentle.
For a long moment, he didn’t respond. Then, without looking at you, he murmured, “What do you think?”
You frowned, sinking down to sit beside him. His good eye flicked toward you briefly before returning to the patch of grass he seemed intent on studying.
“I think it’s alright not to be,” you said simply, your hands resting lightly in your lap.
He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “The realm doesn’t allow that luxury, does it? Especially not for us.”
You followed his gaze to the ground, the weight of his words settling over you. “The realm doesn’t care if you break,” you said quietly. “But I do. So, if you’re not alright, tell me.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might brush you off. But then he sighed, leaning his head back against the tree. “Jaehaerys was just a boy,” he said, his voice low. “And yet his life was taken as though it meant nothing. What does that say about us, about this war?”
You swallowed hard, the question striking a chord deep within you. “It says the realm is cruel,” you admitted. “Cruel and broken. But that doesn’t mean you are.”
He turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression unreadable. “I can see why Aegon clings to you,” he said after a moment. “You always know what to say.”
You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “He needs someone. We all do, Aemond.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the horizon. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was a fragile peace, but a peace nonetheless.
---
Meanwhile, in Aegon’s chambers, the faint glow of the fire had nearly died out, leaving the room bathed in dim morning light. Aegon stirred in the bed, his brows furrowing as his hand instinctively reached out toward the space where you had been. Finding it empty, his violet eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across his face.
“Y/N?” he called softly, his voice hoarse.
He pushed himself up slowly, his limbs still heavy with exhaustion. The events of the previous night came rushing back—the tears, the bath, your touch grounding him when he felt like he might shatter completely. But now, the absence of your warmth left him feeling untethered again.
“Y/N,” he called again, louder this time, his voice edged with worry.
When there was no response, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose unsteadily to his feet. His knees wavered, but he caught himself on the edge of the nightstand, determination driving him forward. He needed to find you.
---
Outside, Aemond turned to you suddenly, his sharp features softening just slightly. “And you, sister? Are *you* alright?”
You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps on the gravel path interrupted you.
Both of you turned to see Aegon, his disheveled appearance and the unsteadiness of his gait betraying his fragile state. His eyes locked onto you, relief flooding his expression as he made his way over.
“There you are,” he said, his voice a mixture of relief and reproach. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving.”
You rose quickly, moving to steady him as he swayed slightly. “Aegon, you should be resting,” you said, your concern evident.
“I can’t rest without you,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground.
Behind you, Aemond stood, his posture straightening as he watched the exchange. “Brother,” he said, his tone measured. “You’re not in any state to be wandering around.”
Aegon glared at him briefly before turning his attention back to you. “Why did you leave?”
“I thought you needed sleep,” you said gently. “And I needed air. That’s all.”
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Just... don’t go again,” he murmured.
You nodded, guiding him to sit beneath the tree beside you. Aemond remained standing, his good eye flicking between the two of you, his expression unreadable.
“Stay,” Aegon said softly, his hand brushing against yours. “Please, Y/N.”
“I’m here,” you replied, your voice steady as you took his hand in yours. “I’m not going anywhere, Aegon.”
Aemond turned his gaze back to the horizon, his hands clasped behind his back. For now, the three of you sat together under the tree, the world momentarily quiet, as the bonds of blood and love wove themselves stronger in the face of shared pain.
The morning breeze rustled gently through the leaves of the old tree, carrying with it the faint scent of dew and distant salt from Blackwater Bay. Aegon rested against your side, his head leaning against your shoulder. His fingers intertwined with yours, a silent plea for your continued presence, his grip just firm enough to remind you that, for him, this was his anchor.
Aemond remained standing a few paces away, his long frame poised as if he were a sentry. His eye darted between the horizon and the two of you, his expression unreadable but contemplative. Though he said nothing, you could sense the weight he carried, both for his slain nephew and his brother’s suffering.
“Jaehaerys loved to sit out here,” Aegon murmured, his voice hoarse but steadier than before. “He’d always run ahead, climb this tree, and demand to know if the dragons in the clouds would come to visit him.”
You swallowed hard at his words, the ache in your chest tightening. “He always had a vivid imagination,” you said softly, your voice wavering with the memory of Jaehaerys’ bright laughter. “He believed there was magic in everything.”
Aegon let out a bitter laugh, his head dipping forward. “And now, there’s nothing. No dragons in the clouds, no magic, no laughter. Just silence. Just emptiness.”
Aemond shifted at that, his hands clasping behind his back. “There is magic in memory,” he said quietly, his tone even but tinged with something deeper. “Jaehaerys is gone, but his light remains—because you carry it, brother. Because *we* carry it.”
Aegon let out a shaky sigh, lifting his gaze to his younger brother. “And how do you suggest I carry that, Aemond? When all I feel is failure?”
Aemond’s jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his boots crunching softly against the grass. “You carry it by remembering him as he was. By fighting for what’s left of your family, for those of us still here. The crown doesn’t define you, Aegon. But your love for him, and for us—that does.”
Aegon met his gaze, and for a moment, the usual tension between the two brothers seemed to ebb, replaced by something raw and fragile. “And what if I can’t?” Aegon asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m not strong enough?”
“You are,” you said firmly, your hand tightening around his. “Because you don’t have to do it alone. You have me. You have Aemond. And together, we’ll carry whatever you can’t.”
Aegon turned his head to you, his violet eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t deserve this,” he murmured. “I don’t deserve either of you.”
“Enough,” you said softly, your free hand brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Aegon. You’re ours, and we’re yours. That’s all that matters.”
Aemond nodded, stepping closer and kneeling in front of his brother. “You’ve made mistakes, Aegon,” he said bluntly, his good eye locking onto his brother’s. “But grief isn’t one of them. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself be weak for now. We will hold you until you find your strength again.”
Aegon stared at Aemond, his breath catching in his throat. Then, slowly, he reached out with his free hand, gripping his brother’s arm. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes—a silent acknowledgment of their shared burden, their shared pain.
The three of you stayed like that for a long moment, bound together beneath the canopy of the tree. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting dappled light across the grass, warming the cool morning air.
Finally, Aegon leaned his head back against the tree, closing his eyes as he exhaled deeply. “Jaehaerys would have laughed at this,” he said, a faint, bitter smile tugging at his lips. “His father, the mighty king, brought to his knees by love.”
“Then he would have understood what truly makes a king,” you said, resting your head gently against his. “It isn’t power or strength. It’s love that binds a kingdom. And he would have been proud of yours.”
Aemond stood again, his expression softening slightly as he glanced between you and Aegon. “She’s right, you know,” he said. “As usual.”
Aegon chuckled weakly, the sound a mixture of sorrow and something lighter. “You both talk too much.”
“Then you’re in good company,” you teased softly, your fingers brushing his hand as you leaned into him.
The sun’s warmth began to melt the chill of the morning, and though the grief remained, so too did the bonds that had strengthened in its wake. Aegon’s breath steadied, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was a fragile sense of peace—a reminder that even in the face of loss, love endured.
The quiet, fragile peace of the moment shattered like glass when the sound of a wailing sob pierced the air. All three of you turned sharply, your heads snapping toward the source of the sound. Stumbling across the courtyard, her nightgown trailing in the dirt and her hair disheveled, was Helaena.
Her cries were raw and guttural, the kind that tore from the very depths of her soul. She was clutching her arms to her chest, her steps faltering as though she could barely carry her own weight. When she reached the center of the clearing, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, her hands clawing at the grass.
“My son!” she screamed, her voice hoarse and filled with agony. “Jaehaerys! My baby!”
You were on your feet in an instant, your heart lurching as you ran to her side. Behind you, Aegon and Aemond both rose, their expressions twisted with shock and pain as they followed closely.
You dropped to your knees in front of Helaena, your hands gently grasping her shoulders as she writhed in the grass, her cries unrelenting. “Helaena!” you said firmly, your voice cutting through her screams. “Helaena, look at me!”
Her tear-streaked face lifted toward yours, her violet eyes wide and filled with uncomprehending grief. She gasped for air, her hands trembling as they clawed at the earth beneath her.
“Breathe,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. You leaned forward, your forehead pressing gently against hers as your hands tightened on her shoulders. “Breathe with me, Helaena. In... and out. Slowly.”
Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, but she tried to follow your lead as you exaggerated each inhale and exhale. “In,” you murmured softly, “and out. You’re not alone, Helaena. I’m here. We’re all here.”
Her sobs began to slow, though they didn’t stop completely. She clung to you, her hands gripping your arms as though you were the only thing keeping her grounded.
“My baby,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “He’s gone... he’s gone...”
“I know,” you whispered, your own tears slipping down your cheeks as you held her close. “I know, Helaena. I’m so sorry.”
Behind you, Aegon approached hesitantly, his steps heavy with guilt and sorrow. He knelt beside her, his hand hovering uncertainly before settling gently on her back. “Helaena,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I’m here.”
She turned toward him, her grief twisting into something almost desperate. “You promised,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You promised me he’d be safe.”
Aegon flinched as though struck, his head bowing. “I failed you,” he said, his voice raw. “I failed both of you. I’m so sorry, Helaena.”
Aemond stood nearby, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was tight, his single eye filled with a storm of emotion as he watched his siblings crumble before him. Slowly, he stepped forward, lowering himself to his knees on Helaena’s other side.
“You didn’t fail,” Aemond said quietly, his voice firm but gentle. “This war failed us all. But we are still here, Helaena. We are still your family.”
Helaena’s sobs quieted further, though her tears continued to fall. She looked between Aegon and Aemond, her body trembling as she leaned heavily against you.
“Jaehaerys wouldn’t want this,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her tear-streaked face. “He wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself like this, Helaena. He would want you to remember him, to hold on to the love he gave you.”
Her lip quivered, and she buried her face in your shoulder, her sobs muffled but no less heart-wrenching. You held her tightly, rocking her gently as you continued to whisper soothing words. Aegon’s hand remained on her back, his touch hesitant but steady, while Aemond reached out to place a hand on her arm, his gesture quiet but filled with resolve.
The four of you stayed like that for a long time, bound together by shared grief and the unspoken promise that you would carry each other through this pain. The sun climbed higher into the sky, its warmth touching the grass and trees, but the light felt distant, as though the world outside your small circle had faded away.
Eventually, Helaena’s sobs subsided into soft hiccups, her breathing evening out as exhaustion began to claim her. You shifted slightly, brushing her hair away from her face as you looked into her tear-filled eyes.
“We’ll get through this,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your heart. “Together, Helaena. We’ll get through this together.”
She nodded weakly, her grip on you loosening as her body sagged with weariness. Aegon and Aemond exchanged a glance, unspoken understanding passing between them.
“I’ll take her inside,” Aegon said quietly, his voice firm despite his own exhaustion.
You nodded, helping him lift Helaena to her feet. She leaned heavily against him, her movements sluggish but compliant as he guided her toward the castle. Aemond followed closely, his sharp gaze scanning the courtyard as though to ward off any further chaos.
You stayed behind for a moment, your knees still pressed into the grass, your hands trembling slightly as you exhaled deeply. The weight of your family’s grief was immense, but you knew you couldn’t falter—not now.
Rising slowly, you turned toward the castle, your resolve hardening. Whatever came next, you would face it together. As broken and battered as your family had become, you would hold them together, piece by piece, with every ounce of strength you had.