The Marriage Pact

Victory

"You know he's going to be unbearable now," Aegon mourned.

"Oh Gods yes! He'll hold this over us for life," Daeron agreed.

"Remember that time I won the melee? And I've only got one eye," Aegon mocked, doing his best impression of Aemond. Daeron laughed.

"And if that weren't bad enough, father's knighting him as well!"

In spite of their jests, Daeron and Aegon were both actually very proud of their brother, and a little envious too.

It was the fourth and final day of the tourney and the whole city had turned out to watch. Banners snapped in the wind, sunlight gleamed on bright shining armor, and the knight's chargers were caparisoned in silver and gold. The final tilt of the joust was won, rung to the sounds of trumpets, the shouts of the crowd and the pounding of hooves.

Now it was time for the prize giving ceremony. The four champions stood on a platform before Queen Alicent. Curiously, she had forgone her usual green and was dressed in a blood red gown, which perfectly complimented her dark hair and eyes. Behind her, King Viserys was seated on an ornate gilded chair, not nearly as impressive as the Iron Throne, but far more comfortable.

The prizes were generous, as befitted a generous King. Forty thousand gold dragons were awarded to the winner of the joust; twenty thousand dragons for the runner-up of the joust; twenty thousand dragons to Aemond, the winner of the melee; and ten thousand dragons to the winner of the archery contest.

One by one they were announced. Each stepped forward, bowed, and received their prize from the beautiful Queen. She smiled graciously at each of the champions in turn, but none so warmly as her own precious son.

Before the ceremony concluded, the King shakily rose to his feet, and solemnly knighted Aemond with Blackfyre, the sword of Aegon the Conqueror.

"Well done, nephew," Daemon congratulated him at the feast that evening. "You know, you're almost as young as I was when Jaehaerys knighted me."

"I know," Aemond responded promptly. "You were ten and six, and he gave you Dark Sister."

Daemon raised his eyebrows. "You're well informed. Have you been making a study of me?"

"I've made a study of all our family history," Aemond returned coolly, not willing to admit how much he'd idolized his uncle as a child. "If we don't mind our own histories, we are doomed to repeat them."

"Now you sound like my brother. Like father like son, I suppose." Daemon rolled his eyes. Then he laughed and slapped Aemond on the shoulder. "But a much better fighter!"

He left Aemond then and returned to his own seat beside Rhaenyra. Aemond tried very hard not to smile. He couldn't help but think how thrilled his ten-year-old self would have been to receive such attention from his uncle, the mighty Daemon Targaryen.

"You look happy," Visenya commented, coming to sit beside him.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it's completely out of character for you, and I for one find it disturbing," Aegon chimed in drolly. "You're our dark, brooding prince. Daeron's the happy one."

"And which prince are you?" Aemond asked wryly, returning to his sardonic self.

"The charming one, obviously." Aegon looked to Baela for support. "Aren't I?"

"I think charming might be a stretch," she teased. "You're certainly entertaining."

"Please don't encourage him," Aemond begged with heavy sarcasm. "He's intolerable enough as it is."