"A road without end. But how far will you go?”

What, exactly, would sate Lucerys? What would sate Aemond ? A hollow apology? A bargain stained with old blood? Another thread of violence already stretched too tight between them? No answer surfaced, only the raw, festering truth—neither of them knew, and neither dared to ask.

"Did he seize your eye or your sanity, Aemond?" his grandfather’s voice cut right through his daughter. "Or did he claim both?" The truth meandered around Aemond’s throat, a noose tightening with each breath he drew. The little bastard—his nephew—drew forth a particular hunger, a savage craving to rend flesh with his teeth and burrow into the very marrow of Lucerys' delicate bones. The notion of being usurped by such a wretched thought should have sparked revulsion, yet only delight coursed through his veins. For he had the boy now, all to himself.