Salvation - Aemond Targaryen / Aegon Targaryen

Tribulations

Aemond thought, if only for a moment, that Borros Baratheon and Aegon Targaryen were cut from the same cloth.

It was the only way that he could understand how the lord preferred Aegon's company to his own. The solar of Storm's End was small, rounded with a small square window overlooking the south eastern side of Shipbreaker's Bay. The men's laughter bounced off the stone, ringing in his ears. It had a large desk filled with lavish weaponry, small wooden ships carved of driftwood and towering stags of mahogany, discarded ribbons of a half hundred colors were strewn aross the table, nary a scroll to be seen. A large cask of Arbor Red on tap in the far corner, three glistening cups polished atop it.

Aemond saw how Aegon deflected the offer, hands shaking as he denied the outstretched cup of wine from the lord. "I must confess," Aegon jested. "Once I begin I can not stop. I fear I should have a clear head in the morn for our travels."

Aemond had never seen his brother turn down his indulgences, from the moment Aemond could remember—Aegon gave in to his impulses. If Aemond had cared, he would have been curious.

"Of course, your grace." Borros Baratheon withdrew his hand, seemingly confused at the prince's denial. He made no move to offer to Aemond. "Tell me. How was your journey?"

"The Kingsroad needs to be tidied," Aegon shrugged. "But Sunfyre makes quick work of it."

Borros laughed heartily, taking a long, breathless gulp from his glass. Aemond's eye turned to survey the room further. There was nary a book or scroll within the small room, a hearth spat embers from the fires that torched wet wood. It smelled of the sea—ripe rotted fish and the pungent odor of a man who had more important things to do than bathe.

"I should like to see your beasts deliver the King's Justice. I presume it is a thrilling spectacle." His bloodshot eyes turned to Aemond, removing the cup from his whiskers as the liquid dripped to his breast. "Especially the Queen of Dragons."

"She is a fierce one," Aemond murmured.

"Tell it true, your grace." The lowly lord commanded. "Was Lord Lannister truly so mad that he thought to take her?"

"Aye," Aemond shrugged his shoulder. "The man was a fool. He had found himself to be too prideful. It was his downfall."

Aegon shifted beside his brother, hands clasped behind his back. "A great man was lost due to sin," his brows pointed downward. "My sisters and lady mother have prayed for his soul nightly."

"The soft hearts of women." Borros Baratheon huffed in agreement. He moved his large frame to the wide-mouthed chair opposite to the princes, extending his hand to offer each of them a seat on the leather padded bench sitting before him. Aegon sat, brushing dirt from his breeches, while Aemond stood, hand placed on the hilt of his sword. "Tell me of your quest, my princes."

Aemond pursed his lips. "I am sure you've heard of the unrest in the Stepstones."

"Aye." Borros droned. "Seen our fair share of shipments pillaged by those savages."

"Then you know how important our father The King believes it that we should put those savages to the sword." Aegon interrupted, leaning forward. "You understand my brother's cause."

"I do." Borros agreed. "If I'd an heir, I should have mounted my warhorse and joined you. Alas my... daughters."

"A man without an heir should nary put himself in unnecessary dangers." Aegon reached across the divide, patting the elder lord's hand. "If mine own sons were not on this earth, I shouldn't have thought to come."