Love Is The Death Of Duty • Aemond Targaryen

24.

By the time the three Targaryen princes gather in the main room in Aemond's chambers, it's already late in the afternoon.

Too antsy, Aegon paces back and forth like a caged beast, his face a mask of frustration and anxiety. On the box sofa, Maegor sits next to his beloved uncle, his legs crossed in a figure four lock and one arm sprawled out across Aemond's shoulders.

"Are you going to start talking or did you barge in just to make us watch you prance around, brother?" Aemond's irritated voice suddenly cuts through the air, stopping the crowned King from his trance right in front of the sofa.

Scanning the room, Aegon finds no wine he could calm his nerves with. He lets out a deep sigh, rubbing his hands over his face, before he takes a seat in the oak chair right across the sofa, where the younger Princes are.

"Grandfather is at it again, talking all day about gathering allies and what not. He wants me to send a letter to Rhaenyra, demanding she bend the knee. He won't let it go!" Aegon starts ranting, picking at his fingernails, an obvious bad habit sprouted from anxiety and nerves.

Aemond's eye sharpens as he processes Aegon's words, but he doesn't even bother hiding his lack of interest. Next to him, Maegor looks even more bored, sprawling out against the back of the sofa, feet planted on the small end table in front of him, while he finds looking at the ceiling far more entertaining than paying attention to his eldest uncle. He's also tired, both from the lack of sleep as well as getting so rudely awoken. Not to mention, his head is still aching and throbbing quite bad from Cregan's hits.

"And you couldn't handle this without charging in here?" Aemond asks, his voice tinged with annoyance.

"I needed to talk to you, but I didn't expect to find you so...busy." Aegon shrugs, unfazed by his brother's irritation as he gestures to who exactly kept his brother busy.

Huffing, Maegor flips him off with his finger without even lifting his head up from the couch to look at his eldest uncle.

"Fine, but next time don't come here again." Aemond finally gives in with a sigh, keeping a hand on his nephew's knee.

"I'm the King now, I go where I please." Aegon chuckles, shaking his head. 

"Want to see how I'm going to drag a King out of this room?" Maegor shifts his body, lifting his head up just enough to throw a glare at Aegon.

"Sex is supposed to lighten up your mood, nephew, not piss you off." Aegon taunts him even now still and it makes Maegor's blood pressure rise even if it's just mindless, friendly banter.

"I was feeling good before I saw your face first thing in the morning." 

"It was noon." 

"Enough!" Aemond bangs his hand against the wooden armrest of the sofa, silencing both of them.

Sighing in defeat, Maegor plops the side of his head to rest on Aemond's shoulder and his uncle doesn't hesitate to start carding through his locks with his fingers. He couldn't care less about displaying physical affection towards his uncle in front of Aegon, or anyone else for that matter.

"They've started sending ravens and gathering bannermen despite all my objections." Aegon's mood suddenly switches from jests to seriousness and his smirk turns into a stern expression.

The atmosphere in the room shifts completely and all three tense up. Reluctantly to pull away from the touch he craves so much, Maegor eventually straightens up in a more formal pose and narrows his sharp eyes.

"Who?" 

"The Lannisters and Hightowers are for certain. Dear grandfather called our baby brother back home to pledge for Oldtown in person." Aegon groans in exasperation, rubbing his aching head with one hand.