Salvation - Aemond Targaryen / Aegon Targaryen

Ill-suited Suitors Galore

Aegon was drunk.

Aegon was drunk, Aemond was gone and Jeyne was left to the mercy of the Queen. The small feast in the Queen's apartments was just that—small—with only four people in attendance. Aegon sat across from she and her cousin at the table with his bride—young Helaena—seated at his left. Jeyne sat opposite with her right shoulder near touching the queen's.

The feast consisted of a large honey roasted ham that oozed with sweetness. Garlic and rosemary roasted potatoes were served with spiced green beans and a medley of colorful foreign vegetables Jeyne could not name. Breasts from the castle chickens had been served to them on a bed of roasted red tomatoes and fresh salads with a fantastic vinaigrette that oozed purple liquid onto the base of her plate.Wine from the Arbor had been sent by her brother Martyn and fresh lemons from Highgarden were sent with them as a gift from Garmund. The lemons had been taken to the kitchens and formed tart lemon cakes that were moist and powdered with sugar that coated Aegon's upper lip as he shoved them drunkenly into his mouth.

"I say, we should ship Jaehaera to Highgarden if it means feasting on these... lemons!" Aegon's bloodshot eyes were wild with desire as he took yet another cake and ate it in a single bite. He laughed, crumbs spewing from his mouth as he roughly nudged his sister-wife. "Aye, Helaena. Pop out another and we could get more of those Honeyfingers from Tyrosh."

"The dragon has three heads." Helaena muttered, wincing away from the contact her lord husband gave her. "Only three. Three heads."

"Of course, my dear." Alicent reached across the table and took Helaena's hand in hers. "Three."

Jeyne watched with a fascinating curiosity the dynamic of her cousin's marriage. Aegon seemed indifferent to the blessings the Mother had given him—three healthy children and a living wife to raise them—and poor Helaena... well... Jeyne did not know what to think of her.

The girl hadn't greeted her at the gate. She ached, Queen Alicent had told her, her monthly had come with a vengeance. That aside Helaena seemed quite nervous to be around people, even those she was related to. Her purple eyes could hardly meet Jeyne's and instead focused on the stitching of her dress that had come loose. She was a pretty girl, by all standards, but had a rounded face quite like her own sister's and lips that were pale and permanently frowned.

Aegon showed no signs of holy traits such as piousness, sobriety or mystique. He simply drank when he wanted, spoke however manner he chose, and used the gods' names in vain more oft than not. If Jeyne hadn't moved her chair back, she was sure his wandering foot would have found its way up her skirt. Even now, she could hear the faint tapping of his boot against the stone floor as it tried to search beneath the wood for her leg, and actively tried to avoid eye contact with the prince, lest be believe it to be permission.

Alicent spoke often and fondly to Jeyne, regarding her time at their shared home in the south with pleasure and fondness. She asked of Jeyne's prayers, of accommodations that could be made to better suit her and her faith and had even asked Jeyne of her father's crusades—beseeching the girl to tell the Queen just how successful his holy work had been so far.

Jeyne answered the questions dutifully and with as much knowledge as she could offer—despite the only thing on her mind being the large stack of parchment next to her royal cousin. The papers were of lords who had come to court in hopes of... well, courting Jeyne. News had traveled as far as Last Hearth and men came from every corner of the continent in hopes of courting her. Even if, as Prince Aegon had said, her portrait did more harm than good.

"If you like the lemons as such, your grace," Jeyne said, not meeting his eye as she was served a small portion of vegetables. "You should simply ask. Lord Tyrell was very generous, I'm sure he would—"