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    Summary

    “Aegon.” A thumb on his chin forced him to turn.

    He couldn’t bear to see the look on Aemond’s face, knowing how it would surely change at the sight of his wounds, so he pressed his eyes shut.

    “’Tis not so bad as you may fear.”

    Aegon choked on a sob. “Stop.”

    “Vision spared. The scarring doesn’t even reach halfway across. And you’ve the look of a dragonrider about you, now. A true Targaryen King.”

    He tried to turn away, but Aemond held fast. “No, why are you hurting me?”

    “I’m not.”

    His hand scrambled weakly for his brother’s wrist, tugging and squeezing. “Yes, you’re hurting.”

    “I’m not.”

    Before he could protest further, Aemond’s lips nestled over his right eye in a kiss that seemed wholly unplanned. It was a delicate thing – gently done, and unbearably brief. Another cruel tease, and one that sent Aegon spinning into delirious free-fall.

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