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“He’s dying, Rhaenyra.” Daemon’s voice was cold and detached once he finally spoke, the dread that filled his being oozing into the room from his words. They had returned to Kings Landing only the day before and the air was thick and hot from tension.
“No. You’re wrong. The maester said-”
“They are wrong. He is dying and as we speak Otto Hightower is plotting to put a 2 year old babe on the Iron Throne.” He snarled at her. His voice held no patience for her as it normally did.
“He will recover.” Rhaenyra said weakly. Tears stung her eyes and all of her childhood fears bubbled to the surface. “He can’t die uncle. He is the King!”
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During Aegon’s second name day, Viserys is mortally wounded. To avoid the Dance, two childhood friends turned strangers must reunite and fix what their fathers broke.
The problem? They’re both idiots who absolutely cannot communicate their feelings.
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