Little One (гет)

"He is…"
Whatever Rhaenys had to say, it was lost within the whirlwind raging inside her. The Targaryen paced up and down the tent. A frown of both frustration and concentration creased her forehead, and her lips pursed into a thin line.
"Aegon he -" Rhaenys threw her hands in the air, her features changing into ones of bafflement. "He is in one of his moods."
"Aegon tends to brood," Visenya answered with a measured shrug.
"Not like this," the younger Targaryen looked away. "He will not listen to me," the barest hints of desperation laced her tone. Rhaenys bit her lip. "He listens to you; he always has."
The warrior gave a soft sigh.
"I will speak with him."