[ rook's rest has been months ago, a long while of watching aegon heal from the melted steel that has fused with his body. the wet, phlegmatic stench of his injuries still linger in aemond's memory - the crusting, open wounds, and the peeled flesh, and the melted fat that carved the blackened muscle too close to the bone.

his brother, once so golden, fallen from the sky in a dark and writhing heap. aemond will never atone for it enough, but he has to make peace with what he's done. he must—— ]

I've from a ways ahead from you. Mother as well, when you see her; she is herself here, but we do not keep to the same quarters or apartments.

[ aemond's eye rakes over his brother, coveting this of him — his whole self, healthy if a bit soured, no less beautiful in his drunken state than he is in lucidity. his vices never seem to touch him, in aemond's mind. if he could keep his brother like this, forever untouched by the war fought in his name, then everyone would be much happier.

he would feel less hurt for all that has happened since this war began.

after too long a pause, aemond begins again; ]

Rook's Rest is victorious, that is all you need to know. [ aemond pauses for a second— ] Is your head bothering you? You keep favouring one side.