The knife slid cleanly through the wood, shaving off a thin curl that fell into Aegon's lap. Each shave brought the wood closer to his desired form—the scaled head of a dragon. He started wood carving only a year ago, but thanks to his second power, his carvings could already match the work of experts.
He carefully carved around the dragon's eye, losing himself in the work until a loud scrape of steel on wood broke his focus.
The door to his chamber opened without ceremony, and Daemon Targaryen walked in with his usual swagger. Gael followed him a step behind, quiet as usual, but no less noticeable, especially with that small baby bump on her belly.
Aegon gave his brother a look and then returned to his carving.
"I heard you were caged like some misbehaving whelp," Daemon drawled, his eyes sweeping the room with a cold, mocking boredom. "A pitiable display, truly."
Another sliver of wood curled away. Aegon remained silent.
"The Royces are here," Daemon added, as if merely noting the weather. "Your future wife included. It's only right that a dragonless worm like you should be tethered to an Andal woman. Try not to let your disappointment show too plainly when you meet her; it wouldn't do to further embarrass our house."
Aegon gave him brother a look, and then went back to his carving.
Daemon's lips curved into a thin, mocking smile. He stepped closer, circling like a predator, his gaze dropping to the dragon carving. "Still whittling away at scraps of wood?" he drawled. "I suppose I shouldn't expect much from you."
The knife paused for the briefest moment. Then resumed.
"If you truly wish to escape this marriage, I can help," Daemon said softly; quiet enough to keep the Kingsguard outside from hearing.
Aegon paused, looking at Daemon with clear skepticism. They had always been at odds since he was a babe; it was hard to believe his brother had suddenly found a conscience. "How?"
"I could always take your place in the bedding ceremony," Daemon said, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "You can watch from the side and let your betters show you how it's done."
Aegon's mouth fell open before he let out a weary sigh. Why did I expect anything else?
His gaze then slid over to Gael, as he wondered if she had something to say about Daemon's casual insults. But she bit her lips and looked away to avoid meeting his eyes.
'I saved you.' He thought, his heart breaking just a bit. 'I saved both of you.'
If not for him arguing with his grandmother, then she would have never allowed Daemon to marry Gael. Instead, Daemon would currently be in his position, being married to Rhea Royce, while Gael would later get impregnated by a travelling bard, have a miscarriage, and then drown herself in grief.
I wondered why I ever expected my good deeds to be rewarded. I should know better than to expect anything from my family by now.
He returned to his carving. "Did you deliver my message?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. He refused to let Daemon see any weakness.
Daemon didn't miss a beat. "I did."
"And?"
A slow, cruel smile spread across Daemon's face. "Our father thinks it's an excellent match. House Royce is an ancient and noble house. Good enough for a useless third son. He was quite pleased, in fact."
The blade bit too deep. He sighed at the ruined work and tossed the half-finished dragon head aside. He turned to Daemon, narrowing his eyes and searching for any sign of a lie.
If his first power was stronger and worked from a distance, he would know the truth. As it stood, Daemon could have burned the letter instead of giving it to their father, and he would be none the wiser.
In the end, though, he supposed it didn't truly matter. If his father had cared, truly cared, then he would've visited him by now. That he hadn't said enough about his stance on this matter.
Once again, he was not surprised by his family's treatment of him. Only disappointed.
"I see," he said.
Daemon tilted his head. "That's all you have to say?"
"What more would you like me to say?"
"Oh, I don't know." Daemon's eyes gleamed. "Rage, perhaps. Maybe beg a little. Why are you always so disappointingly calm?"
He mulled over the matter for a moment. It's not like he was an emotional person in his past life either. But in this life, he was indeed too calm. Too detached. He wondered if this was a sign of his emotional maturity or just a coping mechanism for dealing with his family.
"If you're done," he said without looking up, "you can leave."
Daemon didn't move from his position. "And what would you do if I don't?"
He turned to Daemon, clenching his fists. He flooded his veins with adrenaline, bracing for a fight. Though he was three years younger, he had no doubt he would win; he had enhanced his body well enough to ensure it.
"Leave now," he said calmly. "Or they'll have to carry you out."
Daemon let out a chuckle. "Is that so?"
"I'll count to ten," he said. "One, two…"
"Aegon. Is this really necessary?" Gael finally spoke up.
Oh. Now you remember how to speak? Where was your voice when your husband was insulting me to my face?
He ignored her and continued counting. "Three, four, five, six, seven, eight…" He trailed off as the two Kingsguard entered the room and stepped in between him and Daemon.
"My princes," one of them said firmly. "This is neither the time nor the place."
"My brother has finally found his stones," Daemon said, his gaze never wavering. "It would be a pity to let them go to waste now. Out of my way."
"The Prince's wedding is but a few days away," the Kingsguard interjected. "His Grace would be wroth if either of you were bloodied now."
A silence stretched between them.
Daemon exhaled sharply, a flash of irritation crossing his face before he mastered it. He straightened, fixing Aegon with a cold glare. "Another time then, little brother."
Aegon didn't bother to respond.
Daemon spared a single glance for Gael. "Come."
Gael hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Aegon with an unreadable look. She bit her lip, then turned and followed her husband out.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room in silence.