✶|𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺|✶ 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯

✶𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 29✶

――✴✯✴――

Change of Route

――✴✯✴――

✯Aegon Pov✯

Year 133 A.C

Westeros

Red Keep, King's Landing

The sword training had been even more grueling than the last. Aegon despised everything about it. 

The relentless clash of steel against steel, the unbearable physical strain, the barked orders of Ser Amaury Peake, his Hand's ever-loyal knight... 

The man's very name was a reminder of his connection to Lord Unwin Peake, their blood ties distant but significant enough to make Aegon's stomach turn.

But worst of all was the psychological warfare.

As king, Aegon could not be struck, at least not openly. But that did not mean he was free from consequence. 

Whenever he faltered, whenever he refused to comply, the punishment fell elsewhere, on Gaemon... 

His friend and sworn companion, his only true source of comfort in this life. Ser Amaury had made the pattern clear... If Aegon refused to obey, Gaemon would suffer for it.

And so, Aegon forced himself to endure. He gritted his teeth and met every strike, parried every blow, swallowed his disgust, and pushed through his exhaustion. 

Not for himself. Never for himself.

For Gaemon...

The young king made his way toward Gaemon, who sat on one of the benches at the edge of the training yard, catching his breath after the grueling session. Aegon sat beside him, trying to mask his concern with indifference.

"Are you alright?..." He asked, his voice steady, though Gaemon could see through him easily.

"I'm fine." Gaemon replied, rolling his shoulders despite the ache. "A little knock from the hilt of a sword won't kill me." He grinned, ever the resilient one, even as discomfort flickered across his features.

"Right..." Aegon muttered, his gaze drifting to the dirt beneath his boots, relieved that, at least for now, his friend was still in one piece.

"Your Grace."

The voice was one Aegon knew all too well, and one he despised just as much. Lord Unwin Peake.

The Hand of the King strode toward him with his usual self-important urgency, the ever-present expression of smug calculation plastered on his face.

"I require your presence in your royal office." Peake announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. "There are important documents that need your signature."

Aegon exchanged a glance with Gaemon before exhaling sharply. He rose to his feet, setting the wooden practice sword down beside his friend. 

Without another word, he followed Lord Peake out of the training yard, already dreading whatever game his Hand was playing now.