The Vaults

On the long walk to the vaults, Aegon had mastered his anger. Aegon turned around to face the Lord Commander. The Kingsguard were supposed to be the finest knights in the realm, paragons of loyalty, skill, and honor for others to emulate and look up to. But though they wore opposite colors from the Knights Inquisitor, Aegon wondered if there was actually a difference under a king like Maegor II.

When he answered, his tone was cold. "If the king ordered you to rape Elseyris, what would you do?" Aegon asked, ignoring the apology.

It was a better answer than Aegon expected, and the Prince thought perhaps he should not redirect his anger onto Ser Brandon. "His Grace has no honor," Aegon said dully, though his tone was no longer so cold. "You seem like a good man, Ser Brandon. You came here and offered to serve the king, didn't you? Why?"

"That is what they say, isn't it?" Aegon stepped deeper into the room, his eyes running over the treasures of House Targaryen, many dating to before Valyria fell. "No matter what else, he is a strong king, and the king must be strong."

"He is in many ways, I grant you. A strong warrior. Master of Balerion, possessor of an iron will. But he and his grandsire fought a war for forty years without victory, Lord Commander. I retook Lannisport and Oldtown in the span of three years. Maegor is not a harsh king because of the times; the times are harsh because that is the way the King prefers them." Aegon halted before the weapons of Valyrian steel.

"If it was me at risk, I could bear that," Aegon said in such soft tones that it was not clear if he had even meant to say it aloud. His hands closed around the haft of an axe, and he lifted it to the light.

It was a wicked-looking one-handed battle axe. The steel was a deep grey, so dark it was almost black, and the broad, curving axe head bore the telltale whorls and ripples of Valyrian steel. A deadly spike of the same Valyrian steel protruded opposite the axe head. It had a grip wrapped in deep red leather, but was otherwise unadorned by the gemstones and gilt linings that often accompanied weapons of such quality. Its craftsman had set out to make nothing more than a perfect killing tool, and in Aegon's estimation he had succeeded.

Aegon looked at it for a moment longer. "Penance," he said.

"His Grace did not give me the impression he had anything more to discuss with me," Aegon replied. His original axe was already attached to his belt, so he simply held Penance loosely by his side. He stepped out of the vaults.