Salvation - Aemond Targaryen / Aegon Targaryen

Maiden's Day part 2

He really hadn't noticed that Aegon was gone until Jaehaera returned to his lady mother's chambers. Quite unusually, Jaehaera had a sweet smile on her face. Her pale cheeks were red with joy, small teeth exposed through a gaped smile. It would have been a pretty sight, a marvel, had her mother not just gone through an unspeakable tragedy.

         Aegon, she told them, had come to her chambers almost every night since Lady Jeyne's arrival. She told him that Aegon spoke of nothing but wanting another child, something about their father. And since the announcement had been made and the service they attended, Aegon had done his duty and kept sober.

         Aemond, as usual, did not believe a word that came from his brother's mouth. Aegon was a liar with a silver tongue who could do whatever he wanted without reprieve because he—not Aemond—was the king's first living son.

         More's the pity, he though, frowning as he surveyed the room. His lady mother had welcomed Princess Jaehaera into the fold of their feminine embrace, Helaena was still wracked with tears. He had done his part; he comforted his sister as best he could but there was truly nothing more he could do.

         But where had Aegon gone?

         "Mother..." He spoke softly as to not agitate them. His mother looked up, green eyes filled with sadness. Though she did not reply audibly, she dismissed Aemond with a wave. Little Jaehaera fingered her parchment lei, oblivious to what her mother went through.

         Aemond left them to their sorrows to return to his role as his brother's keeper.

         The hallway was—as he assumed it had been for Aegon—devoid of another soul.

         The torches were lit, but due to the maiden's day celebrations, the floors hadn't been swept. Aemond crouched low to the ground, using the angle of the moonlight to search the dust. Large boot prints had kicked up particles into the air, leaving a well defined trace of steps that moved just toward their father's room.

         Hesitantly, Aemond moved towards the King's chambers. The iron door was unlocked. No guards stood in the doorway this close to his chambers—so as to not disturb him in his final days. Aemond wrapped his hand around the iron circle knob. His heart hammered in his ears. Aegon wouldn't be in here, he thought. Aegon wouldn't. Aemond pushed the door open. It had been freshly oiled, the hinges moved in perfect harmony with the hard oak wood.

         Inside the chambers, Aemond saw his father's stone Valyria.

         The set had gone untouched for so long cobwebs had grown over the city. It fell across the white stone like a blanket of snow covering an already pristine white world. Aemond remembered when he was little sitting at his father's foot, watching as he poured over his playset and told his son of all the glorious achievements their homeland had under its belt.

         Aemond had always thought his father weak. Now, however, he longed for his father to rise and play with his toys.

         Viserys Targaryen, the first of his name, had been bed ridden for so long Aemond forgot how large a man his father had been. Decades past his prime, Viserys had grown weaker the last few years. His room smelled of thick poppy milk to numb his pain and dull his senses, and feces that had caked onto his body. Aemond did not venture further into the room than to peak his head in in search for his elder brother.

         "Rhae..." He heard a soft, pained groan from the bed. "Rhae...nyra...?"

         His father only ever asked for his half-sister. He only ever thought of Rhaenyra. Unlike his siblings, Aemond had become numb to that years ago. He merely closed the door, closing his father off to the world and sealing him in his tomb.