You were caught in a state of reverie as you walked from your room to the sick hall. Helaena had joined you that morning to break one another's fast. Amara and Liriel were off their duties for the day and Helaena insisted she get you ready. The princess had become oddly invested in what you wore as of late. Likely her way of trying to spend more time with you. Though, if she asked, you would gladly just sit in silence with her if she wanted; it was always comfortable to do that.

When she left, you were put in a dangerous position. Whenever you were not occupying your mind with work or talking to friends, your thoughts would drift towards Aemond. You would wonder what he was doing and immediately scold yourself. You had no reason for the sudden change in thoughts nor did you wish to even investigate why. It was better to constantly keep your mind occupied to avoid the real truth that hovered on the edge of your consciousness.

So, when you walked into the corridor outside the sick hall to start your rounds, you were met with immense displeasure - and slight buzz - at seeing Aemond standing just outside the open doors.

He had his arms clasped behind his back and appeared to be waiting for something. You walked closer and he turned upon hearing you approach.

"Is there anything you need, your grace? I believe Daeron is in the laboratory." You questioned.

"I wish to be filled in on the patients. Seeing as my brother is occupied, I believe you can handle it." Aemond informed you. Inside your mind, you cringed. Of all the things that would help you take your mind off that very elf, having him visit your place of work was not in the cards.

"I was just about to make my rounds," You walked into the hall with Aemond trailing behind. There was a station that the other healers used. In it were the aprons and supplies needed. You tied it around your waist and loaded various tonics, bandages, and herbs into the allotted pockets. All the while Aemond watched you get ready.

"Is there a reason his grace wishes to invest himself in our research?" As you slipped the last of your needed supplies into the apron, you looked up at Aemond to find him already watching you.

He adjusted his stance from one foot to the next and scanned the large hall with his eye, "I've suddenly developed an interest in it." You could not quite decipher the tone in his voice. Daeron never mentioned Aemond caring too much in this process other than occasionally asking for any significant updates – of which there was never much at all.

You then gestured to the vast hall filled with rows of patients on cots. The space was illuminated by the large chandeliers and lanterns strung about. You wondered if you would ever get used to the perpetual darkness – a constant night – caused by the elder trees. It was uniquely beautiful, a mix of both eerieness and otherworldly sights.

"I must admit, my expertise when I came was largely on the taint's effects on nature. Daeron has helped extensively in teaching me the physiological effects," You began to walk. Many patients were in a deep sleep, so you would check over their body for any signs of symptom intensification while informing Aemond of all you could think about, "The taint infects them through contact with body openings. The speed at which it burns through the body varies and we have yet to figure out why."

You made sure to pace away from any of the patient's range of hearing. You leaned closer to Aemond, suddenly overcome by his increasingly familiar scent of burning wood, parchment, and spices.

You made sure to keep your voice down, "That sectioned-off area at the end of the hall is where the late-stage patients are. Nothing seems to ease their pain and the visual effects of the taint are intense. They typically only have a day or two before..." Your voice trailed off and your face scrunched up in slight pain. Despite working under these conditions for a little over two weeks, you would never get used to the tug at your heart when seeing patients die.

Deciding it was best to move on, you went about treating other patients. All the while Aemond hovered close, occasionally exchanging words with the patients. Many of them were elves from the outskirts of the kingdom and rarely saw the king, so it was rather exciting for them to see him.

Your mood took a turn for the better when you arrived at Lyra's cot. She shot up in bed and reached out for you with an excited look on her face. She called out your name and let out a heartwarming giggle.

"How are you, sweet girl?" You questioned as you sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm feeling better than I was yesterday," She replied, "How is Lady?"

You pulled the small doll from one of your pockets and positioned her to face Lyra. One of your hands gently picked up the arm and had the doll make a waving motion towards her. Lyra giggled and brushed the doll's hair with one of her hands.

"Well, Lady has been an incredible help with my work. She likes watching the potions brew in my laboratory. I have also taken her on a few walks in the garden by my room." You informed her. In the moment, you forgot about Aemond who stood close by and watched your exchange with Lyra.

Lyra looked over your shoulder and her face paled, "Y-your grace." She moved to bow but groaned in pain. You stopped her from moving and eased her back to lying down. You looked back at Aemond and tilted your head as if to order him closer. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed but still had a tenseness in his shoulders.

He seemed to be at a loss for words to address such a young girl being condemned to a death bed, so you spoke up, "The king is here to check in on everyone. He cares deeply for his people and worries if you are all being treated well."

Lyra handed the doll back to you and addressed her king, speaking your name first, "She helps me whenever I need it and does the same for everybody else. She's my best friend." You sucked in a breath and tried to fight back the tears that pooled in your eyes. Aemond cast a glance towards you, something brewing behind his eye. There was a slight twitch of his right brow as he regarded you.

The sound of boots hitting hurriedly against the floor distracted you. Daeron came rushing down the aisle and stopped by the bed. His chest heaved and he took a moment to compose himself. You stood up from the bed and moved to rest your hand on his shoulder as he coughed. Aemond's eye once again zeroed in on your hand and you quickly rescinded it from Daeron's shoulder. You did not want him to get the wrong impression again.

"The..." He wheezed to catch his breath, "The potions. They're more successful than the previous ones."

His words seemed to catch you off guard and you grasped both of his shoulders, not caring about how it is perceived, "What?"

Daeron reciprocated, his hands resting against your shoulders. He looked into your eyes, "It is not a complete solution, but is damn well close, you genius."

You jumped back and turned to Lyra, "Darling, I must go, but I will see you later. Then, we can talk about our plans for adventures." You bring back a previous topic that you had been reluctant to do so again. On a previous visit, you did not want to give her hopes up for a cure but did express your want to take her to visit many places. Perhaps, now, you could fulfill that wish.

"Your grace," You turned to Aemond, "Forgive me but I must head back to the lab with the prince,"

The king made a quick motion with his head in dismissal, "I shall not keep you."

You and Daeron then shot away, dashing down the centre aisle and towards the laboratory. Emotions bubbled through your body. If Daeron was correct, then the progress made from the potions could be enough to narrow down the possibilities of a cure.

In this kingdom and its resources, you had made more progress in such a short period than you ever had in your years of past research. It was more exhilarating and rewarding than ever.

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It was pure exhaustion that led you to leave the laboratory in the late hours of the night. Daeron had shown you the progress both of the brews made on samples of plant matter. It only paused the deterioration of the taint, but did not get rid of it completely. Regardless, it had been a massive breakthrough. More pots had been made, with some of the other lesser elf healers coming to aid in the creation of them.

If all went well, those potions could be tested on some of the willing patients late into the next day. Then, with the gods willing, the possible success of the plants can be seen in the body and distributed to the patients to stop them from getting increasingly ill. They would still be sick, but at the very least it would not lead to death. You and Daeron would be given more time to find a cure without the burden of losing patients.

You stayed with the healers in the creation of the potions, but Daeron had made you go after the fifth time of almost collapsing due to exhaustion. You were reluctant but acquiesced. It was, with great misfortune, that a particular elf interrupted your path.

Criston Cole stood in your way. His armour reflected the torchlight from the walls. You could see the bitter smirk on his face and the intense malice reflected in his eyes.

"I heard you've made some wonderful progress." He taunted. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. While it was a habit Aemond had, Cole's attempt at replicating it came across as juvenile. No ounce of command in the king's presence could ever be mustered in an elf like Cole.

You put up a strong resolve and prepared to take his pointless insults. While he had only ever directly talked to you in your first week while you were in the garden harvesting herbs, there were occasional moments when the two of you would be in the same area. He had, even from far away, made it easily known that he harboured a great feeling of disdain towards you.

"We have indeed," You paid extra care in reminding him that it was not solely you who had worked on the cure. No victory belonged to a single person in this fight.

Cole got closer, his taller figure imposing, "Ah yes, how could I forget? My apologies, I do not know why I was so foolish to believe your kind could make such a feat."

He tried to get under your skin, but you would not let him, "No worries, Ser Cole. I do not blame you for forgetting such a simple thing, with all of your... overwhelming duties on the council." You stood on the tightrope between civility and discourtesy.

His eyes narrowed and you could tell his temper had flared. He then stood chest to chest with you and raised his arm. You stood with your shoulders straight, willing to take whatever he threw at you. Cole would not have you act out in violence towards him. Despite having made incredible progress here, your record was not entirely clean since your run into the woods. If you chose to attack an elf – especially a council member – no amount of advocacy on Helaena's, Daeron's or even Aegon's account would save you from harsh punishment.

As Cole narrowed in to strike you, a voice interrupted, "I hope I am gravely mistaken for what I am witnessing."

Aegon came forth from a corner at the end of the hallway. This time, at least for you, his state of appearance was new. He wore slightly better clothing and appeared to be in no state of inebriation. Was this all a dream or some weird hallucination? Was Aegon... sober?

"Pardon, my prince?" Cole questioned.

"I said," Aegon repeated as he came up to the elf and stood directly in front of him, blocking you slightly, "I hope I am gravely mistaken that you, an esteemed member of my brother's council, were about to hit a lady."

Cole almost seemed to crumble. He took a step back and plastered on a fake smile. He laughed nervously, "My prince, that is absurd. I was simply pointing her towards her room."

"She needs directions in an area of the castle she has frequented for a few weeks?" Aegon raised his eyebrow in a challenge and turned back to you who stood behind him, "Is this true?"

You looked at Cole and the face he gave you was full of agitation. As much as he mocked you, your answer could decide what would happen to him. If you admitted that he was going to strike you, his punishment could be severe – which is why there was an almost pleading look in his eye. It was incredibly pathetic that you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

However, it would best keep this under wraps so that possibly in the future, he could owe you, "No, my prince. I am simply exhausted and disoriented. Ser Cole was helping me."

Criston deflated slightly, a breath leaving his mouth. Aegon turned to the elf and received a nod of confirmation. You could tell by the look on his face that he did not believe it in any way but nodded his head.

"Ah, well then I shall escort her to her room. She will not need your help anymore, Ser Cole." Aegon's tone got harsher by the end of his words. He hooked his arm through yours and began to move you down the hallway, not even staying to acknowledge any more words from the elf.

Once the two of you were carefully sequestered in your room, Aegon spoke again, "I have no idea why you would ever cover for such a lowlife craven bastard." His words seemed to shock you by their intensity, but you could not argue against them. You did not know that Aegon harboured such resentment towards Cole. You thought that perhaps he may be jealous of Cole's seat on his brother's council.

"What is Cole's problem?" You asked.

Aegon went to the pitcher and cups on the table in your living space. He took the wine and poured himself a drink before settling comfortably into your plush cushions. He waved the cup around in his hand, "I do not even think the gods know."

You huffed out a small laugh and sat on the couch across from him. He quickly poured you a cup and you took it with grace. Elven wine had grown on you despite its strong nature and you found yourself preferring it over any of the wines back home. It was an observation you found yourself making a lot; how you tended to prefer things here than back in your home kingdom.

The two of you spent a good while drinking and conversing in small talk. However, you glanced at the table you broke your fast at and saw your father's journal lying there. You sat the chalice down on the low table between the couches and sat up from your relaxed position. You clasped your hands together.

"Aegon?" You got his attention. He turned and saw your serious posture and expression and mimicked it, though more comical in the way his body swayed. "What do you know of Lake Rosmagne?"

He seemed taken aback for a moment, as if surprised you did not ask an intense question given your serious nature, "Can't say it is of particular importance. It is a lake associated with light magic, but most of the lakes in our borders possess magical qualities. Why do you ask?"

You bite your lip and contemplate confiding in him. While not as trustworthy as Daeron, you did not feel like this was something to inform him of nor was he always willing to go along with your ideas. Helaena may not give you the answers you seek in her attempts to keep you safe; something you did not blame her for.

Aegon on the other hand, does not hold the same intense desire to protect you as Helaena does. He lacked the restraint and composure of Daeron. For a while, he was the perfect candidate to confide in.

"My father wrote about going to that lake for his studies. It had something to do with a hunch. It was his last entry before his disappearance." You confessed. You picked up the chalice again and took a sharp swig. The cup was cradled in your lap and your fingernails scrapped against the markings carved in the gold plating.

"You think my brother had something to do with it?" Aegon asked.

"Why does everybody always involve Aemond with my issues?" You questioned exasperatingly.

"I did not specify which brother." Aegon smirked and took a sip of his drink before continuing, "Look if you think there is something truly awry, I could help you."

"Why would you want to help? You did not know my father." Your face scrunched up.

"That is true, but do you see me doing anything else? The duties I do have are impossibly boring." Aegon yawned and set the cup down. He walked to your door and opened it. He paused and turned back around. "You are also my friend now... and possible good-sister soon."

You sighed loudly with frustration, "I wish not to repeat myself to anyone but Daeron is nothing but a treasured friend." You tried to reason.

Aegon gave you a coy smirk and repeated his previous words, "I did not specify which brother." Before you could even think to respond, he left your room and shut the door. You were left in your room, drink in hand, wondering what possible meaning could be behind his words. It was like a cryptic message or some frustrating childhood riddle that could not be solved no matter how hard you tried.

You decided it was best not to dwell on it and get ready for bed.

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It was the next day and you had been skipping down to the hall to get to work. All night the potions had to be brewing and you were excited beyond belief. There was a joviality in your step you had not experienced in many years. You planned to check in on the patients and see if any were willing to volunteer themselves to test different dosages of the potion. Then hopefully, there could be a path to delaying the intensity of the infection in the elves and gain more time for finding a cure.

You turned the corner to see the entrance of the sick hall. The doors were opened and Daeron stood there. His shoulders were slumped and his expression was brokenhearted. Redness surrounded his eyes and he appeared to be on the verge of tears. When he saw you, he stepped forward to stop you from entering the hall. Daeron's hand grabbed your forearm gently and his eyes conveyed sympathy with hints of agony.

Your mood immediately dropped, "What is it?"

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to get the words out. You spoke again, "Daeron, what has happened?"

Daeron spoke your name and his voice cracked at the end, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."