"Drink!"
"Second Brother, your sword's getting awfully slow these days. You been spending all your strength making babies instead?"
Gaemon slipped Baelon's rising cut with an effortless twist, grinning as he tossed the jab.
"Huff! Haven't seen you in a couple years and your footwork's already got that Braavosi water-dancer snap to it."
Baelon didn't waste breath on a comeback; the two of them traded a flurry of blows until Gaemon's spinning counter-cut forced him into an awkward backward leap. Only then did he call the bout.
"I picked that up a while back from a Braavosi merchant's guard," Gaemon said, chest still rising and falling evenly. "Used to be one of the Sea Lord's own. Got into some trouble, left the palace, and started escorting traders. His blade work was clean, so I trained with him for a spell. Not bad, huh?"
Baelon yanked off his helmet, silver hair plastered to his forehead. "Huff—huff! Keep laughing at your big brother, why don't you. Not many knights in all of Westeros could push me this hard. This round's yours, you little shit."
Gaemon pulled his own silver helm free, shook out his damp, tousled hair, and grinned across the yard at his brother. He handed the blunted practice sword to a waiting squire, then the two of them walked side by side toward the shaded rest courtyard just beyond the training grounds.
Clang.
Baelon stripped off his gauntlets the moment they reached the table and tossed them down. The iron rang against the wood. He dropped into a chair, snatched up the waiting cup of wine, and drained it in three long swallows.
"Ahhh…"
Only after the cup was empty did Gaemon stroll over and sit across from him.
He picked up his own cup, gave Baelon a wicked wink, and said, "Second Brother, you look a little… spent. Alyssa been wringing you dry?"
"You little brat—always poking at me. I should've kept swinging back there and not let you off."
"Spent? I'm exhausted, that's what I am. Knight's Keep is at the make-or-break stage right now. I've been on the site from first light till the stars come out every damn day. Then Alyssa gave birth, and I've barely slept in weeks. And now you're mocking me? Just wait till I catch my breath. We'll go again, and I'll teach you a proper lesson."
Even though he'd been on the defensive the whole spar, Baelon still refused to concede. Gaemon knew his brother was just saving face, so he nodded along without calling him out—big brothers deserved that much.
Seeing the nod, Baelon finally relaxed. He'd been half-afraid the kid would ride the victory all afternoon.
To change the subject before Gaemon could keep teasing, Baelon said, "So, how's your domain coming along? I'm telling you, my Knight's Keep is basically finished. Two more years and it'll be done. Don't let me show up at your place and find your 'grand palace' still just a pile of dirt and dreams.
I hear the city you're planning is damn near as big as King's Landing. The labor and coin for something that size is insane. Make sure you don't run dry halfway and turn the whole thing into a realm-wide joke."
Gaemon had to bite back a laugh. He forced his face into a serious expression and answered calmly, "Relax, Second Brother. When have you ever seen me start something I couldn't finish?"
"I know you've got it figured out. But this isn't just me asking—Big Brother wanted me to check on you. He's worried that once you're older you'll get too proud to admit when you're in trouble. Just remember, we're always behind you. We're your family. Your back-up. Hit a wall, and every one of us will come running."
A warm rush filled Gaemon's chest. After a long moment he answered, voice a little rough, "Don't worry, Second Brother. Tell everyone to rest easy. I'll always be a Targaryen, and I'll always be your brother. Building new lands is hard, sure, but who do you think your little brother is? This is nothing I can't handle. And I hope you'll all trust that I will pull it off."
"Good. Second Brother believes in you. Once we've both finished our seats, we'll compare them properly—see whose is more magnificent."
"Deal, Second Brother. But a proper wager needs stakes, doesn't it? Otherwise what's the point of winning or losing?"
Baelon's eyes lit up. "True. Stakes it is. My lands breed the finest warhorses. If I lose, you get ten of the very best."
Gaemon's grin widened. As far as he was concerned, this bet was already won. He answered with equal swagger, "Since you're putting up ten prime warhorses, your little brother can't look cheap. My lands' best export right now is Snow Salt. If I lose, I'll give you a thousand pounds of the purest grade. Fair?"
Baelon threw his head back and laughed. "Not cheap at all! Just don't come crying when you actually lose."
"Relax, Second Brother. Your brother can cover stakes like that. Just make sure you don't get scolded by Sister Alyssa when you lose. I won't be holding back."
"You really underestimate your second brother, huh? I can decide on something this small myself. Alyssa's not as petty as you think."
"Haha! If you say so. Come on, it's getting late. We should head back and clean up. There's a feast in the Red Keep tonight, and I don't want to show up smelling like the training yard."
"Mmm. Let's go. Alyssa's waiting for me anyway."
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