Aella Targaryen wed on the anniversary of her father's death. To her cousin, nonetheless, continuing the long-standing tradition of her family to marry their relatives. It was a day that was meant to bring joy and overshadow the sorrow that had purs...
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Hold me, like the night holds the moon in it's arms
– Alexandra Vasiliu
°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°
The moment the council meeting ended, Rhaegon was the first out of the room. He was far too angered by Viserys' continued dismissal to wait around and make polite discussion with the other lords, especially not Otto Hightower, who seemed to be only feeding Viserys' need to ignore all things of importance. Rhaegon could only grit his teeth and dig his nails into his palms. He could not for the life of him understand why Viserys was being like this. The threat of Myrish pirates had been a topic of discussion since before their father died – though of course Viserys had not attended the meetings then – and the had been a problem that Corlys had managed to quell by himself for quite some time. But the Triarchy? Not even Corlys' fleet could stop them if he was doing it alone.
His anger and his thoughts blocked him from realising where he was going as well as any understanding of time, so he may have been wondering the halls of the Keep for minutes or for hours. Eventually, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of swords clashing together. He was close to the training yard, he realised, and decided that he would go and see if his son was there. It was where Aemon spent most of his afternoons as of late.
When he made it outside and leant against the balustrade of the walkway above the courtyard, Aemon was in the middle of a sparring match. One of the Kingsguard, Ser Steffon Darklyn, stood outside the circle that made up the sparring ring, arms folded over his chest as he called out instructions and corrections.
Aemon was stood facing off with a boy whose hair was the colour of fire, bright and eye-catching when surrounded by the rather dull colours of the training yard. Rhaegon knew that the boy was Brynden Blackwood, his son's companion. The boy was only a year and half younger than Aemon and the two of them had clicked easily when the Blackwoods had visited the Red Keep some three years ago. Brynden was the heir of Raventree Hall, and so his father had not been difficult to convince when Rhaegon asked for the boy to stay at court. Aemon had practically begged him to convince the lord, as Brynden was perhaps the only friend he had ever made.
With a swift step forward, Aemon lunged with his training sword towards Brynden, who side-stepped and parried easily. The boys were evenly matched. They trained together almost daily and knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. That much was obvious when Brynden deliberately swung towards Aemon's unguarded left, to which Aemon responded with a harsh kick to the other boy's knee – which he had injured a few month prior when he fell off his horse.
"Watch you feet!" Ser Steffon shouted. Even from his spot above the training yard, Rhaegon could see Aemon grimace with annoyance. He could not help but remember fondly to his own youth, when his own father would shout the same sentence to him and Daemon when the two of them trained. It was foot too easy to mess up one's footing in the middle of a fight, and it had to be beaten out of Rhaegon by Daemon's blunt training sword many times until it finally became a second sense.
