AEMON
There were a number of things that irritated Aemon. Sometimes they were small, trivial things like the buzzing of a fly or cold draught, whilst others were greater grievances like the cruelty men inflicted upon each other. His sister's smug grin however, was quickly rising to the top of the things he hated most. His head ached, his stomach churned, and the food sitting his plate seemed more than a little suspicious. All the while Rhaelle kept on grinning, her eyes twinkling as though she was on the verge of barely contained laughter.
Finally he had enough. "If you're going to act like that then I might as well have you shipped off to Storm's End."
"Oh lighten up," She sat back in her seat, smile firmly in place. "You were having fun for a change."
"You could have told me that the object of my affection was our cousin," he pointed out bitterly. "That would have been a good thing to know."
Rhaelle frowned. "What difference would it have made? You have feelings for her anyway, and it's not like bedding one's cousin is unheard of. Our parents were brother and sister, most would find that much, much worse."
"That's not the point," he growled. "Aunt Daella walked in whilst the two of us were naked, that was not…"Aemon shuddered. "…not a pleasant experience."
His sister just gave him a dull look. "I really don't think your manhood could threaten a woman like Daella, now be quiet and drink your tea."
Aemon stared at the dark brown liquid his sister had brewed for him. According to her it was a tonic that she often used to treat Edric after his nights of heavy drinking, though it did little more than add to Aemon's list of irritants. "You know sister," he grumbled with an edge of venom to his voice. "You're a hard woman."
"I am," she agreed, giving him a sweet, dimpled smile. "And that means you'll do exactly what I tell you to."
"I suddenly know why Duncan was so happy that he didn't have to marry you."
From underneath the table Rhaelle's foot stamped down on Aemon's own, all the while she continued to smile serenely at him. He grimaced, downed the rest of his foul-tasting tea and stood from the table. "Sometimes I wonder why I even let you into my home."
"Because you know that you'd hardly be able to dress yourself without me." She replied.
Aemon grunted in response before shuffling from the room.
He was halfway back to his chambers when Jon Staedmon came rushing up, chest heaving with exertion, sucking in large mouthfuls of air. "My prince!" he puffed. "We have….guests….riding towards the castle."
Oh fuck me, he inwardly cursed. "What is it this time Jon? What could possibly add to my ever growing list of worries? Have all of Essos united in one massive attempt to personally take Summerhall from me? No wait, don't tell me….the Wall has fallen and now a legion of grumpkins and snarks come to devour us?"
The old man blinked. "I…er…guests from the Westerlands have arrived for the tourney."
Aemon pinched the ridge of his nose in frustration and counted backwards from ten like his mother had taught him. He gave a deep sigh. "Alright, let us go see the Westerlords. Mayhaps they'll be able to help relieve me of my headache."
"Of course we'll have to throw them a feast."
Aemon paused, dumbstruck. "….One of these days old man I may have to strangle you."
"What!" Myriah lost control of her voice very briefly and shrieked like the girls she had once seen selling fish on the docks of Planky Town. "Why would you bring those two?"
Daella stood her ground with the long practice of a wife, a mother, and a princess. "They are my daughters too and I thought it would be good for them to see the rest of the country."
"You know I can't stand them."
The daughter of Maekar Targaryen shrugged. "That is something you need to get over."
"I wish you hadn't come here," Myriah spat. "We both know that it would be much better for both of us if we kept our distance."
Daella gave a sigh. "You always did have a flair for dramatics, didn't you?"
"Why else would you send me on some pointless, petty journey out of Dorne if not to be rid of me? She asked, and felt the root of her being and the foundation of her strength melt like wax in a fire.
The older woman looked away. "We should not have this conversation. Not now," she said carefully.
Oh, mother…She had long suspected her mother's apathy, but to hear it was more crushing than Myriah had expected. I care more than I thought I would, she realized. Tears welled up, but she fought them, because something deep in her gut told her that it would be unwise to show any sign of weakness. It was something she had learned a long time ago, back when she firstbecame a murderer.
"You and my sisters can do as you wish," she replied after a time, her voice back to its calm level, her chin lifted defiantly. "But I'll continue to see Aemon. I don't care what any of you think, I'll even take him on the dais in front of everyone if I so choose."
Daella opened her mouth to speak, but Myriah had already turned and left the small rooms.
The musicians were pounding their drums away and Aemon's head with them. A barrage of tunes and beats collided with one another, each one drumming into his head like a hammer. The sounds echoed about, whilst guests ate, drank, and shouted at one another. Tion Lannister and his entourage were a welcome sight, bringing cheer and mirth to everyone, something Aemon could at the very least appreciate.
"You should drink more," the Lannister suggested. "It always helps clear things up after a big night."
Aemon grimaced. "And what do I do tomorrow morning?"
"Try not to think so much," Tion laughed before clanging his cup to Aemon's. "To long lost friends."
The prince found himself genuinely smiling at that and raised his cup to Tion, before downing the lot of it and feeling a jolt of energy run through his body. He had another. The pain was beginning to grow less persistent, further away, and replaced with lovely warmth. It seemed the more he drank the better he felt.
A massive hand came down hard on his back, so powerful that he was almost knocked from his seat. Edric Baratheon grinned at him before pointing to a group of Hedge Knights glowering over from a spot near the back of the room.
"Pick your man Aemon," he told the prince. "There's to be a fight."
Even through his drunken haze, Aemon was shocked. "Why in the name of the Gods would I allow a fight to take place in my halls?"
"Oh you wouldn't," assured Edric. "That's why we're all going to sneak away and do it by the stables."
"Edric…just how drunk are you?"
The Baratheon puffed his chest, flexed his thick corded arms and laughed. "Not as drunk as I should be. Those dogs were making very crude comments about one of your sister's ladies in waiting. I won't have such insults thrown at someone of my household."
"Then have them punished for it, don't actually go out there and fight them," Aemon let out a laugh of disbelief. "This isn't a tavern in King's Landing."
"No, it's better. Come."
And the next thing Aemon knew, he was being dragged out of the hall by his good brother. Alongside them stood half a dozen minor lordlings and knights from the Stormlands ready to aid their lord. On the other side of the moonlit section of dirt and mud stood a handful of rugged and bearded hedge knights, all looking very mean and very drunk.
Edric whispered into Aemon's ear once again. "Remember what I said, pick your man and stay with him."
"I really don't think this-"
Yet before he could say anymore Edric had stepped out in front of them, eyeing off the leader of the hedge knights. There was a look of certain rage between both men. Aemon turned to the men standing at his sides; they were all just as drunk and just as angry. By the Gods, they all mean to go through with it. When was the last time I ever fought someone? The war to be sure, though that was combat and not a brawl.
Suddenly Edric's voice came booming. "Alright Ser, it's come to this!"
And with that the flood gates opened and men were snarling and tearing into each other. Aemon stared dumbly as two men came running towards him, flinching back in his fine doublet, almost falling back into the mud. Yet before the men could come near him, Edric had already dropped them both with a single punch each. He gave a mighty bellow and likewise downed three other men in less than a minute.
Aemon stared at the mass of grunting and cursing drunkards, and without thinking twice turned and walked away as fast as he could. The sounds of merriment coming from within the walls were all that led him through the darkness of night, and being more than a little drunk he found that it was getting hard to navigate a path.
"Aemon?" the familiar voice sounded close by, and then Myriah was at his side. "What are you doing out here?"
He tried to think of a logical lie he could have told but found none. "I was watching my sister's husband beat a bunch of drunken men senseless. "
Myriah sniffed him and frowned. "You smell drunk yourself."
"Yes, I'm beginning to think that I need to stop letting people put wine in my hand."
She gave a half-smile but otherwise said nothing, and an awkward silence fell upon them for a time. "So….about last night…"
"You're my cousin," he said without much emotion. "That was something of a shock."
Myriah looked pained, and oddly enough, frightened. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I know I should have but I was afraid that you-"
"Afraid that I'd…what?" he gave a tired laugh. "I didn't even know that Aunt Daella had another child. I really wasn't paying much attention, and that was my fault for being too focused on myself and my own pain when I should have been trying to focus on the rest of the world."
She frowned, but it was an oddly sad expression. "I'm sure you're disgusted with yourself, and me."
"What?" he reached over and took her hands within his own. "Why would I ever feel like that?"
"Because…we're kin, both of us share the same blood."
A laugh erupted from his chest then, something he could hardly contain. He was still laughing when he pressed his lips against her own and kissed her breath away. "I'm a Targaryen; that is the least of my concerns." He kissed her again, much more softly this time. "I want to be with you."
Her face lit up, but there was still a measure of hesitancy in her sparkling blue eyes. "I have…some problems with my mother. It's not very pleasant, and now that she is here things might become difficult for me."
Aemon considered her words. "It's going to be a long tourney, and I may even go mad trying to keep everything running, but how about the two of us make a deal? You stick by me, and I'll stick by you. Hopefully together we'll be able to get through this next week without too much tragedy." He looked at her eyes again, eyes that he couldn't look away from. "Do we have a deal?"
Myriah gave him a smile that nearly stopped his heart, throwing her hands around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. Aemon smiled through it. I guess that's a yes.
