The Flames We Bear

Chapter 25 - Aemond

I stormed through the corridors, my mind a tangled mess of frustration and thoughts I couldn't even begin to untangle the entire way back to the Red Keep from Kingswood. There was a bitter taste in my mouth, and the longer I thought about it, the worse it got. My fingers twitched at my sides, clenched into tight fists. I needed something—anything—to drown out the whirlwind inside my head.

I knew exactly where to go.

Aegon always had what I needed. Not advice—he was hardly capable of that—but wine. And more than enough of it.

I found him lounging in one of his usual haunts, half-drunk already, a goblet in his hand. He barely looked up as I entered, though a knowing smirk played on his lips. Without a word, I poured myself a full goblet of wine and dropped into the nearest seat, the tension still tight in my chest.

Aegon snorted, leaning back with lazy amusement as he eyed me. "Well, well. What's got you in such a state, little brother? Did someone misplace your books?"

I ignored him at first, taking a long drink of wine and letting it burn away the edge of my temper. But his eyes stayed on me, sharp and curious, and I knew he wasn't going to let this go.

"Visenya," I muttered after a moment, the name feeling like a curse on my tongue.

Aegon's smirk deepened. "Ah. Your lovely wife. What's she done now?"

What hasn't she done? or said for that matter.

I shrugged, trying to brush it off, but the words gnawed at me, clawing their way up until I couldn't keep them down any longer. "First of all, she cares more for a dead man than she does for me."

Aegon let out a bark of laughter, nearly spilling his wine as he leaned forward in his seat. He swirled the wine in his goblet, that familiar glint of amusement still dancing in his eyes. "Ah, yes. Ser Harwin Strong," he said, his voice dripping with exaggerated drama. "The dead knight... her father."

He dramatically gasped, one hand clutching his chest as if scandalized, and leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a mocking whisper. "Well, supposed father. But of course, we dare not speak of it, lest someone takes our tongue. Wouldn't want that, would we?"

I clenched my jaw, the words digging into my patience like claws. Aegon always had a way of turning any serious matter into something ridiculous. But this time, his jabs hit closer to home than I cared to admit.

My frustration bubbled over, and I retold the one of the ridiculousness I had endured with Visenya. "You want to hear something absurd? She nearly lost her wedding ring."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, already entertained by the story. "Lost it, did she? Careless, or intentional?"

"Neither," I snapped, irritation bubbling up. "She was fishing with it."

Aegon blinked. "Fishing?"

"Yes. Fishing," I said, each word laced with growing frustration. "She decided, in all her wisdom, to take off her wedding ring and—get this—tie it to a fishing line to 'test her luck.'"

Aegon burst into laughter, his hand slapping against the armrest of his chair. "She used your wedding ring as bait?"

"Yes," I muttered through gritted teeth, rubbing my temples. "As bait. It nearly ended up at the bottom of the damn river. I spent half an hour watching her scramble around trying to pull it back up. And when she finally did, she just laughed."

Aegon snorted, barely able to contain himself. "And you expect her to have sentiment for that?" he said between chuckles. "A ring that, to her, might as well be a shackle?"