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    Summary

    The maester said Aegon had been a quiet baby. His mother said it too, as though a flaw they'd corrected. He was no longer quiet; he laughed at everything. Noise was armor. If you were funny, no one looked too closely at what you were hiding.
    Aemond did not laugh. He watched rooms like an inventory of what he intended to own. He had no dragon. Aegon had Sunfyre—golden, beautiful, and his—and sometimes he caught Aemond watching with an expression quieter and more patient than jealousy.
    "You should try," Aegon had told him, meaning pick a dragon before you ruin yourself wanting the impossible.
    Aemond looked at him. "I am trying. I'm just not ready."
    Aegon hadn't known what to do with a six-year-old who spoke like that, so he laughed. Aemond's expression closed like a door. They never spoke of it again.
    That night, Aegon lay in bed listening to the city breathe, feeling the specific shape of a wanting—not for a thing, but a way out. At eight, he understood his life would ask more of him than he intended to give.
    He didn't know yet that the hardest thing it would ask was Aemond.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
    16/?
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