Normally Aelon enjoyed his duties as his brother's representitive to the rest of the kingdom. Things were so much more interesting here than on the islands, after all. But he hadn't wanted to come to the Wolf King's corronation. He'd argued with his brother long and hard, trying to convince him that this was pointless. Or at least to send someone else in his stead. He still had things he wanted to work on with his fleet; three new captains needed training if they were going to be worth anything more than ramming fodder in battle. But his brother had held firm, and Aelon had given in. He rubbed the anchor brand sourly as he walked, wincing in rememberance of the burn that had run from the point above his right breast to his whole body when he'd started to contemplate disobaying his brother flat out.
The servants he'd had with him had found him rooms up in some tower in the Red Keep, and Aelon had left them to their duties as he took a nice long stroll throug the ancient castle. As much as he resented being here, forced to go on bended knee before some upstart Stark who fancied himself kind of the Ironborn, he could'nt help but be impressed by the fortress around him. The Targaryans had inhabited this place for almost six hundred years, only briefly interrupted by the Baratheron's rebellion, and the dragon kings had left their mark on the castle and town surrounding it in a hundred ways both obvious and subtle. He'd been especially interested in observing King's Landing's port, both as his ship had eased into harbor and what he could see from the Red Keep. He could make out the defences that had been added after the War of Five Kings, cunning ones designed to trap and crush any enemy fleet. That had made him frown, but it was not as if they were planning to take the capital itself. The warships at anchor had been of greater concern, and he'd made a note to tell his brother all about them when he got back.
For now he was strolling around the smaller corridors of the palace, hands clasped behind his back and his eyes wandering from wall to door to ceiling in bored progression. So far, he hadn't had the "pleasure" of running into another lord or lady. As he eyed a tapestry hung next to an unused room, one that depicted the execution of Eddard Stark, he heard shouting from down the corridor. Curious, he looked up in time to see a serving woman run by him as if she were pursued by a full grown dragon. Looking a little further down, he noticed a strikingly pretty girl talking with her maids. He thought he recognized her - Elia Martell. Here on behalf of her brother as well, no doubt. A grin started to form on his face. He would have to start socializing eventually to avoid supsicion, and here was much better company than the majority of the elderly lords filling King's Landing.
Coming up to her half - open door and knocking politely, he called out "My lady, I couldn't help but hear your shouts of displeasure. Is there anything your humble servant could do to reduce your distress?"