Work Text:
“How could you, Aemond? How?!”
“Rhaenyra…”
“What you did is unforgivable! To your own nephew! My poor little Luke…”
“I'm sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose…”
“There is no justification for this!”
Daemon entered the room, and didn’t know what to make of his wife raging against her half-brother. He looked at Helaena, who was embroidering and not paying attention at the two bickerers at all.
“Do you know what are they fighting about?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she answered, not looking up from her needlework: “Rhaenyra had saved the last cinnamon roll for Lucerys, and Aemond ate it.”