Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
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Summary
“Your Grace, for us to tend to you, you’ll need to undress.”
“Tend to me,” he mocks, sweat gathering beneath his hair. “You’ll be tying me with that rope?” Still, the sickly fog over his brain makes it hard to disagree, and he finds himself already reaching for his laces.
“With your condition, yes,” the maester nods.
‘My condition,’ this fucking fool, Aerion thinks, his lower lip bitten a bright red, slick with saliva. He demanded that he be left as is, and even now he believes perhaps that this is some trial, his frail body finally molting, all the scales and wings and dragonbone ready to push out from his flesh. Yet each night he could only whine in agony, and all those around him had pushed that he be kept on the shores of Westeros, lest he not survive the trip. It’ll be their heads.
The exiled Prince Aerion falls ill, and the hedge knight charged with ensuring his safe passage is instead placed in the impossible position of treating him.