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Before they leave, Alys pulls him aside for another dire warning. “Your brother wishes to do you some ill.”
Aemond allows one eyebrow to raise in amusement. “I think that is fairly obvious.”
“Then why go with him? Once you leave these halls, I cannot protect you.”
Aemond suppresses a scoff at the notion that he would require protection from Aegon of all people. He was taken aback at first, yes, convinced that his brother’s ghost had arisen for vengeance, but no, he is mere burnt flesh and weakened blood. It has been a long time since he’s been truly afraid of his brother. Not since Aemond grew taller and leaner whilst Aegon grew softer and slower. Aemond could easily defeat him, crippled as he is. Sunfyre is the greater concern, but once Vhagar returns to him, Aegon’s injured dragon will no longer present a threat.
Aemond does not explain all this to Alys – she likely knows already. Since landing in this cursed place, his thoughts have not been purely his own. Sometimes it’s as though he can feel her listening in, a prickling on his skin that is not wholly unwelcome.
“I know Aegon,” he reassures her. “His outbursts are dramatic but fleeting. He has never learned to manage his tempers, but he hasn’t the patience or wit for any lengthy schemes. If he has any true plans to hurt me, I would know.”
“This revival may have changed him. I sensed something broken in him, a wound that festers in the mind. There is madness there.”
Aemond frowns. He does not wish to discount Alys’s observations, not after what happened with his own mother. He is still coming to terms with Alicent’s visit. Like everything in this castle, it feels like a half-remembered dream. Surely his dear mother did not truly mean to poison him, to cast him aside as though he were a mad beast that had to be put down.
Targaryen madness – Aemond has long thought the concept only gossip, a feeble attempt to undermine their royal House. Yet he did see something fractured in his brother’s eyes. Aegon’s manic laughter, his near-hysteria, how at times he seemed to be speaking to neither the gods nor men but some nameless third entity only he could see – it was, Aemond allows, concerning.
Aegon’s uncertain faculties aside, it does not change what Aemond must do. He has felt unmoored these past days – weeks – months? – in Harrenhal, first by his illness and then by Alys and her visions. Without the Red Keep, without Vhagar, without his family, he has found himself drifting, his head clouding with fantasies of wedded bliss and dragon princes. Aegon’s reappearance feels like an anchor around his heart, dragging him back to the cold ground. He hasn’t forsaken his dreams. But first he must aid his brother if he is to be free.
“Aegon may be… changed,” Aemond acknowledges. “But if he is willing to fight with me at his side, and if I can in any way earn his forgiveness, I must try. I do not want our children to be raised by a kinslayer.”
He does not mention Lucerys. That was an accident. One he foolishly took credit for, but surely Alys knows this. He thinks she may know him better now than he knows himself.
Alys sighs. “I see I cannot convince you otherwise. I only wish I could go with you, my prince.”
Aemond reaches towards her and strokes a hand along her face. Her skin is soft, her bones as delicate as a bird’s. Deceptively fragile. Truthfully, he is glad she must stay. He likes to think of her safe, waiting for him. “I will return.”
“See that you do,” Alys sniffs, then steps back from him, her chin held high, all vulnerability cleansed from her face. He watches her walk away until she has disappeared into the shadows. Then with a deep breath, he turns towards the door and his resurrected brother.
***
He finds Aegon kneeling beside Sunfyre, stroking the dragon’s uninjured side and whispering to him. Aemond pauses at the sight, struck by how familiar it is. He listens closely to confirm – and yes, Aegon is murmuring to Sunfyre in the Common tongue as usual. How it used to incense him that Aegon refused to speak in High Valyrian. He had the good fortune to bond with a dragon and couldn’t even be bothered to learn its language. And yet, infuriatingly, this never seemed to harm his connection to Sunfyre, as the golden dragon listened to all manner of foolish and drunken commands. After Aemond had a dragon of his own, and was feeling slightly more charitable, he reasoned that Sunfyre must have accepted this deficiency in Aegon’s character and accommodated for it. An uncommonly generous dragon, fitting for an uncommonly useless Targaryen.
Aemond has enough perspective now to acknowledge that even his more charitable thoughts may have been, in retrospect, slightly bitter. He resolves to do better with this second chance he’s been given. He will not rise to Aegon’s taunts. He will accept the punishment he deserves. He will repent, and be forgiven, and lift this curse of loneliness from himself and his beloved.
Aegon turns to Aemond as he approaches, revealing the ruined side of his face. Aemond looks into his mismatched eyes, an affliction he and Aegon now share. He wonders if Aegon has any vision remaining on his left side, or if it is a sudden, complete severance from the world, leaving one forever alert for unseen threats. And does he retain any hearing in that marled mess of an ear? It is fitting how the dragonfire cleaved him neatly in half, leaving an imprint of the pretty young king while revealing the rot underneath. At least that is how Aemond had thought of it, in those early days when the maesters were learning the depths of Aegon’s injuries. Poetic justice.
Now, Aemond merely thinks of how painful it must be, to live in such a state.
“Alys is a maester, of sorts,” he informs his brother, trying not to recall how he is echoing words spoken to their mother, mere days – hours? – before. “You must be running low on milk of the poppy. She can resupply you before we leave.”
Aegon responds with an unsettling cackle. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, brother? Drugging me so you can take charge. No, I’ll go without, thanks. I’ve managed for this long.”
Aemond can’t help but raise both eyebrows in surprise. All his life, Aegon has rarely denied himself the easy way out. He has plied himself with drink or drug for over a decade, stumbling through his charmed life in a haze, only emerging to belittle Aemond or fumble with Helaena or some hapless whore. Perhaps Aegon has traded his substances of choice for madness instead, and this is merely another way to dull his existence. Or perhaps he really has changed.
“As you wish,” Aemond says smoothly. “We leave on the morrow, then. You may rest in the old castellan’s quarters.”
Aegon hauls himself to his feet, hands clawing into Sunfyre’s side for purchase. Aemond inwardly winces but does not offer his assistance – he knows it would not be welcome.
“Nooo, we’re leaving now.” Aegon draws out his dissent, voice high and grating.
“Surely you wish to rest.”
“We should get moving as soon as possible, idiot, before they start looking for me. Besides… Sunfyre doesn’t like this place.”
Aemond stifles a sigh. “I doubt your dragon has any particular thoughts on the accommodations.”
“He told me,” Aegon insists.
Is this the aforementioned madness, or merely Aegon deciding to be difficult? It is hard to tell. Aemond decides to err on the side of caution. It would not do to lose his patience so early into their reunion. It has always been a balancing act, dealing with his brother. Aegon thrives on pushing boundaries for attention, and historically, he gets away with almost everything. Aemond may be atoning for his crimes, but he does not intend to bend to his brother’s every whim. Nevertheless, he can bide his time, and keep his energy for the real battles, both interpersonal and actual.
“If you truly wish it, Aegon, then we can leave immediately. I have already said my farewells to Alys. I only need to gather my things.”
Aegon smiles brightly. “Great. Get on with it, then. The sooner we find Vhagar and you have your own dragon to ride, the better. Sunfyre doesn’t like to share.”
He then proceeds to enact a rather undignified scramble onto his dragon which seems to involve a fair amount of grunting and groaning from both parties. Aemond decides to leave them to it and heads to his chambers. His heartbeat quickens at the thought that Alys may be waiting for him, but the room is empty – well, as empty as any place can be in this castle filled with ghosts. It does not take him long to gather his possessions, what little he had with him when he arrived. He takes one last look around the bedchamber and shivers. He feels a familiar tingling on his skin, the sense that something – or someone – is present in the darkness.
“I will return,” he vows.
Only silence answers him.
***
When he arrives back at the collapsed halls, Aegon has managed to mount Sunfyre. He motions impatiently for Aemond to join him. As Aemond does so, he discovers that Aegon’s previous unseemly clambering had less to do with his frailty and more to do with the lack of any sort of riding gear on his dragon. Perhaps the equipment was destroyed in the battle or stolen whilst Sunfyre lay convalescing.
Further madness, to ride bareback on a damaged dragon. Greater madness still to expect Sunfyre to search for Vhagar, when Vhagar attacked him, albeit under Aemond’s command. Still, Aemond does not hesitate to take his place behind Aegon. If his fate is to fall to his death with his potentially insane brother, so be it. He has made his choice.
Sunfyre takes a few lumbering steps before launching into the sky, his wingbeats strong and sure despite his infirmity. As they rise above the castle, Aemond thinks to ask, “Do you even know where you’re going?”
Aegon ignores him. Whether it’s because he has no answer or did not hear, Aemond cannot say. He does not repeat himself, instead watching as Harrenhal grows smaller and smaller before them. He cannot deny a certain relief to find himself leaving the shores of the Gods Eye, although lately, he’s wondered if perhaps he misunderstood Helaena’s words. Maybe he was to die there after many years as Lord of Harrenhal, and not tragically young as he had feared.
That is a thought for another time. He takes the opportunity instead to study Aegon. His brother sits proudly, spine straight, somehow managing to balance as Sunfyre shifts beneath them. Yet as they rise into the clouds, he notices that Aegon is trembling, small shivers that seem to overtake him regularly before he wrestles them back under control. The strain of dragon riding, nerves, or simply the cold?
Aemond holds his tongue until they are well over the plains of the Riverlands. They have been flying for several hours, and Aegon’s trembling is now constant. Aemond has even caught him drifting to the side once or twice as though about to fall off his dragon. He knows Aegon is stubborn, but this is getting ridiculous.
His brother is likely to refuse any plea to rest, so Aemond attempts to appeal to any reason that remains. “I heard tell that Vhagar has been spotted in these lands. We should dismount and search the area.”
“No, it’s better to search on dragonback.”
He’s not wrong. And yet – “Sunfyre is tiring. He is not used to transporting two riders.”
Aegon responds only with a mutter, either to his dragon or an imaginary third party. Aemond is trying to think of another tactic when he realizes that they are descending.
When they land, Aemond worries that his brother will struggle with the dismount, but he slides to the ground smoothly, one hand on Sunfyre for purchase. Aemond manages his own descent effectively only by virtue of his height and physical prowess.
He finds himself staring again at his brother as his shaking begins to subside, trying to make sense of the contradiction, how he can appear at once so strong and so vulnerable. His recovery is truly miraculous, yet against his dragon – against Aemond – Aegon looks small and strangely diminished. There has long been a softness to him, borne of a lifetime of overindulging and a dislike of physical training. Yet now there is a leanness to his frame and a feral gleam in his eyes. Aemond has not seen him eat a morsel of food since their reunion. He appears to be fueled entirely by spite and madness.
“What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?” Aegon asks with an exaggerated look of concern on his ravaged countenance. He breaks into laughter almost before he finishes his sentence.
Aemond looks away, attempting to hide his own half smile. He suspects from Aegon’s escalating cackles that he was not successful. He can’t stop his gaze from returning to his brother, wanting to share in the rare good humor between them. But this time Aegon looks away, abruptly, as though suddenly remembering that he is upset with Aemond.
“What are you waiting for?” Aegon grumbles, once he has gotten his mirth back under control. “Call Vhagar.”
Aemond glances at him uncertainly. “I cannot just – call her. I do not know where she is.” It galls him to admit this, that Vhagar has abandoned – no – is protecting him.
Surprisingly, Aegon does not prod at this open wound. Instead, he limps over to Sunfyre, and says, “Sunfyre, do you know where Vhagar is?”
Aemond frowns. Speaking to a dragon in the Common tongue is deplorable, but not outside of typical behavior for Aegon. But his brother actually appears to be waiting for a response from his dragon.
Aegon returns to Aemond’s side before he can decide how, or if, to approach him. “Sunfyre doesn’t know either.”
He does not know how to appeal to this new version of his brother. In some ways they are strangers to each other now. He hears Alys’s warnings of madness again in his mind. Aemond would rather not ask, but he must learn what he is facing. Is this merely one of Aegon’s poorly timed jokes? “And Sunfyre… told you this? He spoke to you?”
Aegon giggles, which does nothing to reassure Aemond. “Don’t be silly, brother. Sunfyre can’t talk. No, he told me. In my mind.”
Are you like our sister, then? Aemond wonders. Speaking with dragons as she speaks with insects?
Surely an injury, even a resurrection, cannot bestow such powers. Aegon must be taunting him, or perhaps he is overtired from his trials of late. And yet… there is something almost ethereal about Aegon now, even outside of the miasma of Harrenhal, even as Aemond can still feel the warmth of his brother’s handprint against his cheek.
Targaryen madness has always been connected to Targaryen strength. A lie crafted by those who fear and do not understand. Perhaps Aegon, like Helaena, now requires someone to remind him of his base needs, to encourage him to dismount when he is tired, to eat when his mind is elsewhere. Perhaps this is how Aemond can redeem himself. It cannot be easy on the mind, or the body, resurrection.
“I will call for Vhagar,” Aemond promises, because Aegon seems to think it will help, and perhaps he is right. “In the meantime, let us break our fast. There is much to discuss.”
Aemond hasn’t even mentioned Alicent’s visit yet. Aegon should probably know that their mother has turned on them. Perhaps he will find it fitting, that the kinslayer was nearly killed by his own mother. Probably he will laugh again.
Aegon eyes him suspiciously, swaying slightly on his feet, frame still wracked by the occasional tremor. Eventually he must see the sincerity in Aemond’s eye, or he merely loses energy to maintain his paranoia. He nods and collapses onto a nearby rock without any further discussion, evidently leaving the building of the fire and the cooking to Aemond.
Strangely, as Aemond calls futilely and performatively for Vhagar and collects the sparse firewood, he finds he does not mind. It is after all his fault that Aegon cannot move without wincing, likely his fault also that Aegon’s mind is not as it once was.
If this is what it takes to earn his brother’s forgiveness, it is a small price to pay.
***
Once they settle down around the fire, Aemond prepares to discuss the unfortunate affair with their mother. However Aegon, always intransigent, has an agenda of his own.
“So… Alys is your betrothed? Since when?”
Aemond glances his way, but sees no ridicule on his brother’s marred features, only curiosity. He decides to answer honestly. “I was injured after storming Harrenhal with Vhagar. She tended to me, and in time, we grew… closer.”
“I see.” A beat of blessed silence, and then – “I must say, I didn’t know you had it in you, Aemond. I thought you would only cuddle with your favorite whore for the rest of your days. But no, my little brother finally gets his dick wet. Congratulations.”
Aemond’s jaw begins to ache as he bites his tongue. He should have known this was coming. It’s shameful, how he falls for Aegon’s juvenile tricks every time. He had hoped Aegon forgot about that particular situation. It has happened before – some horrible and mortifying experience for Aemond, which Aegon mocks him for whilst deep in his cups, and then has no recollection of on the morrow. But as fate would have it, Aegon remembers the encounter with Sylvi. Aemond thanks the gods that his brother remains ignorant at least of Aemond’s visions at Harrenhal. That is all they were – false, meaningless things. He has something real now with Alys.
“Is that a hint of jealousy I detect in your voice, dear brother?” Aemond asks, his tone menacingly calm. “After all, from what I understand, you no longer have a ‘dick to get wet.’” It’s a low blow, and one Aemond had promised himself he would not stoop to, but Aegon antagonizes him like no other.
Aegon glares at him, the expression turning his face ugly. How curious, that Aemond had not thought him ugly before now. “Fuck you.”
“Eloquent as always.”
Aegon laughs, this time a brief, mirthless chuckle. “And there he is. I knew sweet, sorry Aemond would not last very long. Will you fight me now, brother?”
Aegon’s complete lack of surprise, more than his words, gives Aemond pause. Is this truly how he feels? What has happened to his remorse, his resolve to protect his wounded brother? Has it really vanished after a few trite insults? He is supposed to be better than this. Aegon is testing him, and he has already failed. “I am sorry, my king.”
Aegon meets his eye, mouth hanging open in shock. Aemond heroically resists the urge to tease him about trying to catch flies.
“You were right,” Aemond continues. “I have found it difficult to – find a companion. I am fortunate that Alys and I crossed paths. And I am sorry for what I said to you about your injuries. The fault is mine, and I regret the pain it has caused you.”
“Mmm,” Aegon says, near speechless. His eyes begin to water and dart away as Aemond wonders if he will appeal to his invisible entity again. He begins muttering to himself – a low litany of no interspersed with why – as his good leg bounces restlessly. Aemond must admit, it is satisfying to see his older brother so wrongfooted by his apology. Aegon has never known how to respond to kindness.
“I wish to tell you of our mother,” Aemond continues, before Aegon can regain his footing for another attack. “She came to visit me shortly before you arrived.”
Aegon quiets and returns his attention to Aemond as he begins his tale. After he finishes, Aegon remains silent, picking at his nails. An unfortunate habit he inherited from their mother and never attempted to outgrow. Aemond worries that this has been too much for him, that maybe he should have staggered the revelations.
“She declared me dead, I think,” Aegon says eventually. “And she said you killed me.”
“Yes.” Aemond frowns. “You have said this already.”
“But she – I mean – to do that. She must have – she cast us aside. Both of us.”
Aemond suppresses the immediate urge to defend their mother and discount anything Aegon says, and considers his words. You’re all I have left, Alicent had whispered as she cradled his face. But had she truly believed that Aegon was dead? Or was that only further manipulation? What of their sister? Aemond has resented Aegon for wasting so much of their mother’s time and attention, but he knew her true favorite was Helaena. Surely Alicent would never forsake her.
“You may be right,” Aemond acknowledges.
Aegon stares at the fire for a time, gaze far away. The shadows dance eerily over his burned skin. Abruptly he bursts into laughter. As before, it seems to go on a bit too long, leaking out of him like poison. “Imagine her surprise when we take back King’s Landing.”
“Surely she’s heard about your ascension by now. I assume I did not know only because it takes time for news to reach Harrenhal.”
Aegon shrugs. “Tyland said he would spread the word. Find those loyal to me. But you and Vhagar, on my side, no one will be expecting that. Especially because you tried to fucking kill me.”
Aemond ignores the jab, half-hearted as it feels. “Tyland Lannister? He’s helping you?”
Aegon nods. That is a relief. Aemond has been wondering how Aegon had managed alone, especially in his current state. He’d thought perhaps Larys was with him, but he should have known the toad would leave once it suited him.
“You should get some rest,” Aemond says, recalling his duty, as Aegon shows no signs of preparing for slumber.
“You should keep calling Vhagar.”
“I will. Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.” Aemond is painfully aware of his limited utility without his dragon, but this he can do.
Aegon glares at him again, but with less force and duration before he heaves himself to his feet. He shuffles a few steps towards Sunfyre before settling down by the dragon’s side. It can’t be comfortable, but perhaps the heat of the dragon soothes Aegon’s damaged skin. Aemond himself has enjoyed the occasional warm compress on the scar tissue of his eye. He decides not to comment. All things considered, it is not the strangest thing Aegon has done since their reunion.
“Good night,” Aegon grunts.
Aemond smiles at this unexpected courtesy. “Good night, brother. Sleep well.”
He listens to Aegon’s low breathing and Sunfyre’s wheezing until the moon fades from the sky. He calls out for Vhagar in the night, once or twice, but she does not come.
He tries not to worry. She will return.
She must.
***
In the morning, Sunfyre leaves them to track down some sustenance. Much of Aegon’s vigor seems to leave him with his dragon. He sits slumped against a nearby rock, picking listlessly at his meal. Aemond attempts to lead by example, chewing industriously at his own rations. He misses Alys’s cooking.
Aegon breaks the silence, his tone deliberately casual. “Do you think I am a terrible man?”
Aemond cannot restrain his chuckle. “I believe I have made my thoughts on your reign quite clear by now.”
Aegon shakes his head, refusing to entertain his amusement. “No, not a terrible king. A terrible man.”
Aemond considers his brother as he deliberates his response. For some reason, his opinion seems to matter to Aegon. If only he had cared before Aemond tried to kill him, and maybe they could have avoided the whole thing altogether.
He toys with the thought of lying to Aegon, pouring honeyed words into his remaining ear as Larys would have. But would this new version of his brother even fall for such deception? He discards the idea. There should be honesty between them if he is to truly atone for his sins.
“I think you are riddled with flaws, and in the past, you have been overcome with them. You made my life miserable, and many others besides. But you and I have both been given a second chance. I believe that together, we can be better than we once were.”
Aegon laughs, lapses briefly into muttering again. Aemond cannot make out what he is saying. After some time, he looks to Aemond to reply, “I think you need to work on your speech, if that is how you plan to sell my return to the masses.”
He offers Aemond a lopsided but beautiful smile, which Aemond tentatively returns.
He thinks maybe he passed this particular test.
***
When they finally find Vhagar, it is not through any mystical communication or expert tracking skills on Aemond’s part, or even any hidden talent of Aegon’s. Rather, it is because Sunfyre tries to eat a goat from a herd that Vhagar is approaching.
Vhagar’s screech alerts Aemond just before he hears her powerful wingbeats rend the air. He rushes up a nearby hill for a better view, pausing only to assist Aegon as he nearly stumbles in his attempt to keep pace. Aegon only pushes him aside with a snarl before continuing on his way.
Aemond reaches the crest first, heart racing as he takes in the sight. It is truly Vhagar, returned to him. She dwarfs Sunfyre as the two face each other across the charred corpse of the goat. Fortunately, they do not seem to be fighting, merely circling each other, their body language curious and nonthreatening.
Aegon’s labored breaths announce his arrival as he comes to stand beside Aemond. For a moment there is no sound but his panting and the chatter of the dragons. As they watch, Vhagar and Sunfyre bend down over the goat together, sharing bites as though there was never any bad blood between them.
Aemond’s throat feels strangely dry as he prepares to call out to his dragon. Will she listen to him still? Or has she truly forsaken him?
“Vhagar, calm,” he says in High Valyrian. “It is me.”
He feels a familiar thrill as his beast’s massive head swings towards him. Aegon’s breathing hitches beside him. She blinks at Aemond – once, slowly – before returning to her meal. For a moment, he imagines he can speak to Vhagar as Aegon believes he speaks to Sunfyre. Welcome back, she is saying. Or perhaps, What took you so long?
Mere hours later, Aemond finds himself in yet another circular debate with his brother. With the image of Aegon shivering and occasionally sliding as he clung to Sunfyre without a saddle fresh in his mind, Aemond has, very reasonably, proposed that they both ride Vhagar, and leave Sunfyre unburdened to conserve his strength.
Aegon is, very unreasonably, refusing this proposal.
“Sunfyre is afraid of Vhagar,” he insists.
Aemond glances over at the dragons, who having shared a few goats, are now leaning comfortably against each other. “What gives you that impression?”
“He told me!”
Aemond sighs. He is learning that when Sunfyre “tells” Aegon something, it is oftimes more revealing of Aegon’s mental state than anything affecting the dragon. Aegon has not approached Vhagar since she reappeared and seems wary to even look at her. After his injury, Aegon was confined to his sickroom and then fled with Larys. This is likely the first time he has encountered Vhagar in his weakened state. Although Aemond is not without sympathy, he does not plan to trap himself in a dispute about how a dragon may or may not feel with someone who claims to communicate with the creature in his mind.
“There is nothing to fear. Vhagar will listen to me.”
Aegon’s venomous glance suggests that these words were not as reassuring as Aemond intended them to be. Before Aemond can consider another approach, Aegon continues his argument. “How quickly you dismiss us, imbecile. We are not so crippled that we cannot manage on our own. I have forces out there loyal to me. Sunfyre has already burned an entire insurgent army. We are traveling together only because two dragons are better than one, and because you so pathetically begged to make it up to me. We don’t need you.”
“Hmm.” How challenging Aegon makes it even for those who attempt to support him. How he loves to bite the hand that feeds. He had boasted for hours the previous day about roasting an entire army with his resurrected dragon, a bloodthirsty gleam in his good eye that even Aemond found a tad unsettling. He senses some of this vitriol aimed at him now, and reminds himself that he has Vhagar to defend himself should Aegon truly snap.
He refuses to be fully cowed by his brother – besides, Aegon likes it when he fights back. “Very well. I will ride on Vhagar, and you on Sunfyre. But, my king, this is the manner of conduct it would behoove you to outgrow. Pride is a bane when we are the only ones present.”
Aegon wilts slightly under his words, but his gaze remains defiant. “It’s not pride,” he mutters sullenly. “I need to be with Sunfyre, to reassure him.”
Aemond merely nods and lets the matter drop – another battle lost in the interest of the greater war. What conflict is he even saving his energy for? When Aegon retakes the throne and decides he doesn’t forgive Aemond after all? Is there really anything he would wish to do, at that point? And to think, he had dreamt of the day when Aegon would look at him and his dragon with fear. It is not as satisfying as he had hoped.
At least he has Vhagar back now. It is astonishing how he had grown almost used to her absence. Reuniting with Vhagar feels as though his lost vision has been restored. He understands better now how Aegon can stand so tall beside Sunfyre, how his steps seem more sure with his dragon by his side, and why he wavers without him. However bizarre their bond may be now in the wake of Aegon’s madness, they are a formidable pair. And he had almost severed that bond completely over misplaced jealousy and foolish ambition.
Aemond reminds himself of his duty. Now that they have Vhagar, the true war can begin. And Aemond will be right behind Aegon, carrying his brother’s banner, counselling him when needed, shielding his… oddities from any who doubt him. And once Aegon is safely installed on the Iron Throne with a capable and discreet council, Aemond will finally return to his betrothed, and assuage her loneliness until he passes peacefully at the Gods Eye.
He can almost see it already. Victory is within their grasp.
They only have to reach out and take it.