The Pearl of Driftmark

II Aemond's P.O.V

King's Landing, The Red Keep - 125 AC

I watched the days slip by, each one bringing us closer to Aegon's impending wedding, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration creeping in. My brother's lackadaisical attitude towards his impending nuptials grated on my nerves. While Aegon spent his days avoiding his betrothed and her family, I found myself enduring endless hours of training with the sons of lords who lacked even the most basic skills on the battlefield. Their incompetence only served to fuel my irritation, as I longed for the thrill of a real challenge, not the tedious routine of training exercises.

And then there were the ladies, with their fluttering eyelashes and coy smiles, attempting to ensnare me in their charms. But I had no interest in their flirtations, for my heart belonged to another, my betrothed, the most beautiful princess in all of Westeros. The thought of Lucerys brought a warmth to my heart, her image clear and vivid in my mind. She was the beacon of light in the darkness of courtly politics, her intelligence and grace shining like a guiding star.

If this is the future of Westeros, I truly despair for the realm. It looks like the only ones with a good head on their shoulders are House Velaryon and House Stark. I am certainly glad that my future wife's house was one of the few shining beacons of hope left in Westeros. I am starting to think that the only reason House Targaryen survived the Doom of Old Valyria was because of their dragon and House Velaryon... and dragon dreams.

At the moment, I couldn't help but roll my eyes as the familiar scene unfolded before me. My mother was once again in another shouting match with my brother, Aegon. This time, the source of their contention was Aegon's wedding attire. My brother stood defiantly, his expression a mix of smug satisfaction and cheeky defiance as he faced my mother's wrath. His choice of Targaryen red over Hightower green for his garments seemed to amuse him greatly, much to my mother's chagrin.

Mother, on the other hand, was livid. Her face flushed with indignation, her voice rising with each passing moment as she berated Aegon for his defiance. Her eyes blazed with fury, a stark contrast to Aegon's nonchalant demeanor. I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the whole affair. It was a familiar sight, one that had played out countless times before. My mother's relentless pursuit of power and status, my brother's rebellious streak—it was a dance I had grown weary of witnessing.

It baffled me why my mother was so fixated on the color green. From the early days of our childhood, it seemed as though every garment we wore had to be some shade of green. I couldn't help but recall the time she nearly fainted when I went through a phase of wearing all black.

But as we grew older, our tastes diverged. I found solace in the simplicity of black attire, favoring pants and robes in shades of silver, purple, and Velaryon teal. Aegon, always the rebel, stuck to his signature reds and browns, seemingly indifferent to our mother's disapproval. Helaena, ever the free spirit, embraced a rainbow of colors in her wardrobe, each dress a reflection of her vibrant personality. And then there was Daeron, the youngest of us all, his wardrobe remained a sea of green. As only one and ten namedays old, his clothing decision had to go through mother first.

With a tired sigh, I shifted my gaze away from the heated exchange between Aegon and mother, my attention drifting towards the rest of my family gathered in the room. As always, King Viserys was conspicuously absent—a fact that no longer surprised me. I had long grown accustomed to his aloofness, his attention focused elsewhere, on matters that held little relevance to me.

Truth be told, I harbored no desire for my father's attention. Our relationship, if one could even call it that, was characterized by a palpable sense of indifference on both sides. Instead, I found solace in the presence of Laenor, my betrothed's father, who had become a surrogate father figure to me in Viserys' absence. It was Laenor's guidance and wisdom that I sought, his approval that I craved—not that of the distant king who bore me.