I know that. But the one who attacked me? He lives. Give me this one thing. Please.

[ It feels like a sacrifice, not demanding the same for them all. But he's too exhausted to fight every battle, not just physically, but mentally, spiritually. If he laid down to sleep, he's not sure he would even be able to, with all the possibilities and fears running through his head, about the wrong choices he's made, and the ones he'll continue to make.

If he's alone, he thinks, he'll panic. Aemond's talent for soothing him would, perhaps, be outshined by other potential company, but it's meaningful that he's making the attempt, rubbing out tense muscles. Tim leans forward, against him, head on his shoulder. ]

I kept the belt. Maybe some magic can be done on it.