━━━━ aegon targaryen ii.
she is not her father's daughter and he is not the prince that was promised. and with all the chaos brought by the dance started by their family, there is always each other.
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"What are you doing here?"
The book Aegon is holding lands on the ground with a thump. He quickly swivels at the source of the voice and there standing right at the end of the bookshelf from where he is, is one of his nightmares.
Aemond is a little shit (literally and not) who is as serious as he is a tattletale.
If Aether has Aesira as the bane of his existence, Aegon has Aemond.
The difference between the two pairs of siblings lies in the underlying connotation. The former is affectionate, the latter is derogatory. The existence of Aemond is purely for Mother's sake. He is not an imbecile; he knows both he and Helaena are products of duty while Aemond and Daeron are the children Mother really wanted, at least that's what Aegon can conclude from the discrepancies in treatment. Everything Aegon doesn't do, Aemond does them. And it makes Mother smile with a pinch of pride and a gigantic wave of glee. Maybe that was the driving force that made Aegon loathe anything spewed out from Aemond's mouth. For some reason, the little shit gained a love for reading, which already places him in Mother's loving hands. On the miserable other hand, Aegon has developed the starting signs of laxness that puts him at a crossroads. He is the only one of the older children without any area of expertise — Aether has his swordsmanship, Aemond has his books (and an alarming improvement in parrying practise swords), Helaena has her weird bugs and embroidery (she can sew like crazy), and his lovely Aesira excels effortlessly at anything except physical activities.
But right when he is about to explore the literary domain of dragons, something that he is starting to show interest in, this annoying fly is buzzing in his space.
"It's the library, Aemond," he replies with dropped eyelids. "What do you think I'm doing here?"
Aemond only blinks and doesn't move from his spot.
Aegon huffs, looking at the ceiling — begging for the gods to give him the patience to face his younger brother without pushing him to the nearest bookshelf. (He doesn't want Mother to nag him about this again; Aemond is not a toy for you to push around, Aegon. Aegon has the sudden urge to retaliate that she needs to tell him to be less annoying and he'll think about it.) "Don't you have a thick book to read or something? Get away and leave me so that I can find my assignment for the day in peace."
"The book I'm planning on reading is arranged by the bookkeeper here, brother."
A groan of irritation echoes through their section of the grand library. "Why do I even bother?" Aegon murmurs under his breath, turning back to the array of books in front of him. He has to ignore the small footsteps right by his ear, trailing his narrowed eyes over the olden spines of the tomes. Everything smells ancient here and Aegon tries really hard to make sense of the inscriptions on the bindings, some of which have faded away with time. Just one book about how to learn the language that separates his family from others and he's good to go. His searching leads him to one specific book sitting a few levels above his eye, recognizing the spine as one of Aesira's reads. If Aesira looked like she enjoyed it, then there is a possibility that Aegon will enjoy it. "That should do it," he mutters, forgetting that he's not alone in the aisle as he reaches for the book.
