Born to the neglected Bronze Bitch of Runestone, Rhaella Targaryen Royce is the best-kept secret in the Vale until discovered and brought to King's Landing. Intended as a pawn meant to keep the unpredictable Rogue Prince in line, those who play the...
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AEMOND
Aemond bit into a crisp red apple sent from Highgarden and watched his mother reach across the table to grasp his brother's puckered chin.
"Are you even listening, Aegon?" she hissed, sounding like a queen rather than a mother. She was the queen of course, but there was no one here at the moment that needed reminding of her prominence.
Aemond thought it more likely than not that his older brother's head would slam forward into his porridge the moment their mother stopped supporting it with her firm grip. His shoulder-length silver hair looked as if it hadn't been washed or combed in days so a bit of food in it wouldn't make much difference.
"He's still half-drunk mother. Scold him all you like, but he won't remember this when he wakes up from his mid-day nap." Why he bothered to intervene was beyond him. Perhaps he just wanted to remind his mother that she had more than one son, though he'd never stoop so low as to draw this sort of attention from her.
"I'm not a child, brother," Aegon slurred, proving himself to be a least partially coherent. It was remarkable how little wits it took to make a tongue flap.
"You are not a child," their mother tersely agreed. "You have children of your own that are wondering why their father never puts them to bed. You should be helping Helaena..."
Aegon had the gall to laugh in their mother's face. The previous night's wine must still have a grip on his addled mind. "And spend more time than necessary with the sister-wife that can't hold a conversation, let alone my cock?"
Aemond tensed, hating any reminder that his gentle-natured sister was occasionally subjected to a nighttime visit from their brother. Voicing his willingness to bear the duty and marry her himself had been disregarded. It was said that marrying her to Aegon strengthened the family and kept the fire in their blood pure, but Aemond knew better than to think his mother cared for the Targaryen dynasty and the probability that eggs would hatch in cradles. No...he saw it for what it was. Binding his two older siblings in a loveless marriage strengthened Aegon's claim to a throne many sought to hand him.
Those supporters, secretly led by House Hightower, were all blind fools. Even with only one eye, Aemond could see what a poor king his careless brother would make.
Aegon's spiteful chuckles ceased when the sharp sound of their mother's palm connected with his cheek. Aemond had wished he'd moved across the absurdly long table quickly enough to do it himself, but there was a certain sort of satisfaction that went through him at the sight of their mother taking the time to doll out a punishment.
If only she'd done more when they'd been younger. Daeron might be the only one of them with a real shot of normalcy since he'd been sent away as a ward to the Lord of Hightower to learn the inner workings of their mother's house. That, or he might turn out exactly like their mother and grandfather. Only time would tell.
