#aegon Targaryen x you

[aegonstradwife]

closer pt. 2 | aegon targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; a sequel to closer, where aegon is further healed and reader rides him.

warnings: mention of various injuries / scars, established relationship, smut. (riding.)

a. note: link to the original request.

In the span of only 2 months, your husband's extensive injuries have healed to be quite less so; the burns along the left half of his body have left behind rough, blotchy scars that he is still self-conscious of. But you're just glad that he's alive.

His knee is still something of an issue, causing him immense pain whenever he tries to move it. But at least he can flex his toes now without screaming in agony, and the lower half of his leg can also be manipulated with little to no torture to him.

And that's why you feel so comfortable planning what you've planned; something wicked that is going to satisfy desires - both yours and the king's - that have gone neglected for months while Aegon has been bedridden.

At this stage, Aegon always, always, makes sure to instruct the maesters to keep the door unlocked, leaving you free to slip inside whenever you desire.

When you do so this morning, Aegon is of course still abed, covered only in a thin sheet, sun laying itself across his chest, setting his fine hair alight. He looks celestial, something too holy to be touched.

But that's exactly what you've come to do.

Your husband lights up upon spying that familiar head of hair poking through the doorway. He sits up with what is apparently minimal pain, though he's gotten very good at hiding it when he wants to.

"Finally come to liberate me from this forsaken chamber, my love?" Comes his sleep-thick voice - you hope you haven't woken him prematurely. He does still need all the rest he can get.

"Not quite yet," you mutter apologetically, closing the door softly behind you. Even though you're quite sure your coming here is no longer a secret, you'll gladly keep up the charade in order to keep a sense of normalcy during this time.

Aegon may still be mostly incapacitated, but his burns have healed nicely and he has much better range of movement now, at least with his upper half.

His poor knee, however, is still shattered. The maesters have done their best to splint it, but he is still well on his way to healing fully, and will probably walk with a limp even after.

You settle lightly on the bed beside him, running a hand down his scarred arm. "I have come to do something else, though. Can you guess what?"

Aegon licks his lips, which are dry and chapped from sleep. There are empty goblets on the bedside table that you could easily take and refill for him, but he's grabbing suddenly for your hand, keeping you beside him. "Care to give me a hint?"

You gladly twine your fingers with his, thumb roving over the mottled skin of his hand. Finally, you can touch him without him screaming in pain. "You've healed perfectly, my love. I think it's time, to do what we've wanted for so long.... What do you think?"

Your love's face goes blank as he realizes what you mean. After so long, you'll be able to have each other the way you deserve. Those chapped lips part, and Aegon releases a short, forceful sigh that you've come to know as his wife to mean that he's thinking very dirty thoughts.

It's a wonder he's not already trying to rip your clothes off.

He swallows hard against a lump in his throat and breathes, "I think you're finally going to let me have you the way I've been dreaming of having you."

"Mm," you agree with a hum. Aegon saying it aloud lights a spark between your thighs.... "I just want to touch you everywhere, Aegon. Now that I can."

Turning more to face him, you traipse your fingers lightly up over his burnt elbow, scar tissue bumping beneath your hands. "Does it feel different?" You whisper reverently, that same hand skimming up over his bicep and curling around his shoulder. The other is moving its way up his stomach, half over his healed burns and half on the smooth, unburnt skin beside it.

His breathing is already picking up as you touch him, and when your palm meets his sternum, a sharp, unexpected tremor rolls through him. His violet eyes roll back, and for a moment you're afraid you've hurt him.

"It does feel different." Aegon's voice is a grizzled moan, one hand clenching itself hard in the bedsheets, the other palming over your thigh just beside him. "It feels.... more sensitive than before. I d-don't know why."

You don't need to know why to know that this revelation makes you want to touch him even more, to make him feel so good, to take away all the remaining hurts from his battle.

"That's good." You're trying to keep your voice even, but the feeling of all of Aegon's gorgeous skin underneath your hands is making you shake with desire for him.

Your hands meet at the scarred skin of his left collarbone before both start a slow track over his chest. The scarring here is the worst, his armor having melted to the skin, peeling away as the maesters removed it.

But Aegon merely shudders in pleasure, reaching out desperately for you. He cries your name. "Please.... Please, I need you, my love. It's been too long."

All you can do is watch as your hands continue to palm over Aegon's torso. Your husband is shivering, making the most delectable sounds, and you can see his cock starting to tent the sheets below. You're sure he would be writhing under you if it wouldn't hurt his leg too much to do so.

All of a sudden, however, Aegon yelps in pain, head tossed back against the pillows. He has, in fact, tried to arch a little too hard into your touch.

"Aegon," you scold him, pinning him by the hips. "You can't, my love. Don't move so much, your leg...."

You know it must be throbbing, and you do your best to soothe your hand over his calf, just below the break.

He curses through clenched teeth. "I can't help it.... I want to touch you, and I need you to touch me, but. It hurts, and I can't believe how much it still hurts."

The grunting pain in his voice sends a wave of sympathy washing over you.

You purse your lips.

"I can believe it," you sigh, still caressing his lower leg, down to his ankle now. "You really did a number on yourself. It's honestly a miracle you've healed this much this quickly, you know."

With a groan and a huff of frustration, Aegon throws an arm over his face. "I know, the maesters are all impressed with how quickly I'm healing, but they don't understand just how badly I want you, and just how badly this damned leg is getting in our way."

Now, you think. He can't see you, with his arm flung dramatically over his eyes - you'll surprise him.

Quickly, but careful of his leg, you sweep a leg over him and settle yourself just over his hips. You picked out a thin night shift to wear just for this....

Not quite putting your full weight on him, you run your fingers back up his torso, fingers flirting with this collarbones again. "I, for one, owe my sanity to the maesters, Aegon. Can you imagine if you had died? I can't.... It doesn't bear thinking about."

Aegon jerks against the bed, arm coming down so he can grab for your leg as he looks up at you, surprised. The first thing he must see are your bare thighs, spread around him. Gods, he's missed this view.

The second thing he notices is the look on your face - the utter devotion, the love, the lust. "Darling...."

His hands, insistent against your thighs, push their way up under the loose material of your nightgown, coming to rest on your hips, thumbs pressing into your soft, supple flesh.

You moan, loudly, at the feeling. One of his hands is smooth, just as before, the other rough with burn scars. And you love them both.

"Gods, I missed that, Aegon. Your hands on me.... Touch more, my love. Touch whatever you want. I'm yours."

Those hands tighten their grip, and Aegon's purple eyes flash tiredly up at you. "As you wish, my queen."

His hands start a slow motion back and forth, up and down your thighs, over your hips and waist. His fingers trail over the warm, yielding flesh of your sides and stomach, before pushing higher, palming over the curves of your breasts.

Still just hovering over him, not daring to sit all the way down, you revel in his touch. Nothing in this world compares to your love's hands running over you, worshipping your skin, your hips, your breasts!

That wrenches a particularly deafening groan from your lips, as you arch your chest into his palms. "More.... Please, Aegon. I missed this so much."

He continues to grab and pull greedily at your flesh, wanting to worship you - to worship every single inch of you.

"Gods, I've missed this too, darling. So much. I've been dreaming of getting my hands on you, of feeling these gorgeous curves. I won't ever let you go again, that's a promise."

To take some of the pressure off your legs, you list forward, bracing yourself with your hands on either side of Aegon's head. "More," you demand, pressing your lips to the corner of Aegon's mouth. "Touch me everywhere."

Aegon should know what you mean by that.

Your demanding tone makes Aegon smirk; he did always like when you took control.

"Yes, your majesty," he purrs, hands slipping back to tug the hem of your shift out of the way so he can palm over your ass, then pull hard at the gauzy material. "Let's get this out of the way, shall we?"

Wasting no time, you reach down, ripping the flimsy cotton off over your head. "How's that?"

Grabbing for Aegon's hands, you place them again on your breasts, squeezing. At the same time, you dare to sink an inch or so lower, and the sticky head of Aegon's hard cock brushes against the inside of your thigh. "You're still such a beautiful boy, you know that?"

The sound that falls next from his pretty lips is a strangled whimper. "Don't call me that," he sighs, and you can barely hear him. "You know what it does to me."

As if in corroboration, his cock twitches stiffly against your inner thigh.

"Oh, but that's what I want," you hiss, still braced over him, mouth hot and wet now on the burns at his hairline. "Do you even know how long it's been since you've been inside me? Of course you do - I'm sure you've thought about it just as much as I have. Maybe even more, confined to this damnable bed as you've been."

"You don't even know," he replies quietly, voice soft and small. His head is tilted back, baring his throat. "I've thought about it every single day. I've thought about it every night. Every time I've closed my eyes, it's driven me nearly mad."

There are tears at the corners of his reddened eyes, and you kiss them delicately away. There's not much to say, other than that you're sorry you're in this situation.

With his neck bared to you like that, you take the opportunity to attack the scarred skin at the base of his throat, loving how sensitive it makes him, how his body responds to you now. "Is this okay?" You ask, nosing at his jaw. "Not too sensitive?"

"Perfect," comes Aegon's reply, still barely more than a whisper, thumbs circling over your hips.

When he tries to grind up against you, you still him with a hand hard on his hip. "Aegon. I'm going to ride you. And if you need me to go faster or slower, raise higher or sink down more, just tell me. No trying to take control yourself, alright? I don't need your recovery set back any further."

He whines in despair, and his fingers claw miserably at your back. "I understand," he says obediently. "I'll be still, I promise. And I'll tell you. Just.... please, darling. I need you so badly I can taste it."

Gentle fingers cradling his jaw, you force him to look at you. He truly is beautiful, though he might not feel so with the scars scorching down his face. But to you, he is immaculate.

"You're going to be so good for me, aren't you, my little prince?" You lower yourself further, reaching down to position his thick head at your wet entrance.

The raw desire radiating off of him as he gazes adoringly up at you sends a lick of heat down the base of your spine. Your cunt is throbbing, aching to take him in, and his cock is twitching in your palm, equally as keen to be inside.

"Yes, my lady," is Aegon's eventual reply, and you're pleasantly surprised at how good he's being. His hands are petting themselves soothingly down your back, but his hips are completely still aside from the occasional tiny pump as he aches to be inside of you.

"Good boy." Unwilling to wait any longer, you tilt your hips back and bear down, opening up for him, sinking down onto his hardness after so many months being unable to do so.

It is a stretch after so long with only your fingers to do the job, but any discomfort is mitigated by the intense, overbearing love you have for your husband and the way his cock twitches inside of you. "A-Aegon...."

His name is a sob, you can't help it.

Aegon's hands are at your face, cupping, thumbs fluttering over your cheekbones. "My love.... I said I'd tell you what I needed. And.... I need you to move. Please. For me."

You nod, taking a long, rattling breath as you lean up and then slide back down, Aegon's cock dragging at your tight walls, the head nudging all the way back on every thrust down.

As you start to build at least some sort of rhythm, Aegon gasps and groans, body starting to squirm beneath you.

You still, fixing him with a critical look.

"I know," he gasps. "I know, I'm sorry.... You don't understand how hard it is, not to move. Not to show you how badly I want you, when you're sitting on me looking like that...."

"Looking like what?" You dare to ask, hips hitching back and forth over him.

"Like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he laments, hands coming around to cup and knead at your breasts again. He tweaks one hard nipple and you cry out, feeling your cunt starting to cream on him.

This used to happen all the time - Aegon would get you so worked up that when you both looked down to where his cock was opening you up, there'd be a thick, frothy cream making itself known along his shaft. And he'd be quick to fuck it back up into you, both of you messy and sweaty and absolutely blind to anything else in the world but each other.

"That's it," Aegon grunts, nails scraping lightly over your nipples. The sun is shining just right for Aegon to be able to look between the two of you and see your cream coating his cock. "That's.... oh, gods. I might - I'm close -"

His breath is choppy, the smooth skin of his unburnt cheek gone very pink. Physically unable to stop himself, his hips are working gently to drive himself up to you.

"Aegon...." You place a hand on his chest again, just over his pounding heart. Both of you still, and you assure him, "I'm going to bounce on you. Hard. Until we both cum. If you're in any sort of pain -"

But he cuts you off with a hard nod and a whine. "Yes, yes, I'll tell you. I promise."

Making sure you're leaning forward, as far away from his leg as you can while still keeping him inside, you start with a couple hard pushes down, the sound of skin slapping starting to fill the room.

Aegon's eyes close in pleasure, and there's no hint of pain anywhere on his face, so you tuck your legs under, now balanced on your toes as you start to fuck him in earnest.

You're fucking bouncing on him, as hard as you dare with a hand on his shoulder to keep you from listing backward.

Almost as though he can't decide which part of you to touch, his hands keep flitting from your breasts to your stomach to your thighs and back. There's absolutely no need for him to move at all right now - you're taking care of any need or want he could possibly have.

"Oh -" Aegon's eyes fly open, staring down between you, listening to the sweet wet sounds your cunt is making as you use him, watching the reddened, swollen length of his cock disappearing in and out of you. "I'm almost -"

You nod, wanting him to, needing him to. It's been so long since you've felt his cum flood your womb, since you whispered in his ear for your king to get you pregnant. "You can, Aegon. Whenever you're ready. You deserve to, after so long...."

His entire body goes taut, a long line against the sheets as he tries his damnedest not to move his broken leg. The other, however, has dug its heel into the bed and is doing its best to keep his back arched as he sprays inside of you.

Almost as an afterthought, long after his cock has stopped spurting, he gasps, grabbing for you, holding you close, petting your hair. "Was I - was I good?"

"Perfect," is your whispered reply as you shudder through your own orgasm above him, Aegon's hands on your hips helping you along.

Once you're both spent, you move to lay beside him, but Aegon is quick to grab you and pull you down on him instead, resting your head on his chest.

You can hear his heart still beating hard, his fingers comforting and gentle on your back and shoulders.

"I love you." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much. Thank you.... for still wanting me."

Slowly looking up at him, Aegon tosses you a cheeky smirk. "Even though as your king, I could have you commanded to be mine for all eternity anyway."

"Oh, shut up," you sigh, teeth digging playfully into his chest. "I love you too, you absolute imbecile."

[venusbyline]

Ecstasy — Aegon II Targaryen.

— summary: His niece needs drugs to keep her academic performance impeccable during her final exams. Aegon only agrees to sell them to her if she has sex with him.

— pairing: drug dealer!Aegon II Targaryen x college student niece!reader

— type: smut, dark, modern AU

— word count: 5.4k

— tags/warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, female!reader, dark!Aegon II Targaryen, modern AU, Targcest (uncle/niece), dubcon, underage sex, age gap (older man/younger woman), reader is 19 and Aegon is 28, drug dealing, rough sex, corruption kink, threats of rape/non-con, forced kiss, degradation, manipulation, choking kink, fingerfucking, pussy slapping, orgasm denial, oral sex (male receiving), deepthroating, butt slapping, hair-pulling, spit kink, spit as lube, vaginal sex, missionary position, overstimulation, dacryphilia, dumbification, squirting, cum shot, cum licking, nipple licking, dubcon somnophilia, aftercare, cuddling and snuggling, reader is Jacaerys' twin sister, minor Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen, implied younger brother/older sister incest, minor Daeron Targaryen/reader. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: This one-shot was based on a very creative anon ask I received here on Tumblr (tysm sweetie 😭���) about specific modern!Aegon scenarios and inspired by the appearances of other Tom Glynn-Carney's characters. In "Ecstasy", Aegon looks like the character Sean (Doing Money).

— author's notes²: I consider it "underage sex" because the reader is 19 years old and in MY MIND the story takes place in the US (which means she's not of legal age yet). But the country and city aren't said during the story, so you can imagine that however you want and maybe not consider that as underage sex.

— crossposting: AO3

❥ Aegon II masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

"Auntie Hel isn't home?"

Aegon took the joint he was smoking out of his mouth, pressing it a little hard between his forefinger and thumb due to the slight fright he had just felt. The smoke got stuck in his lungs and he had to cough four times to be able to breathe properly again.

Having his bedroom door open so suddenly was already unusual in itself — considering that his siblings always avoided entering there without knocking first, apprehensive about witnessing their eldest brother fucking random girls or boys —, but having the door opened like that by his annoying niece? That was more unexpected than he could have imagined.

He took a sip of the beer that he was holding with his other hand, wanting to soothe the burning in his throat, and then grumbled: "Damn, girl. Don't you know how to knock?" Drinking more, he added with a question. "And how'd you get here?"

"Daeron gave me a key yesterday, since you didn't open that stupid door for me last week." His niece shot back, crossing arms and walking into the room without bothering to close the door behind.

"Of course it was my little brother." Aegon grumbled again, before taking one more puff of the joint. No coughing this time. "Loverboy keeps trying to get in your pants."

You blushed at the crude words he had said. Daeron, your uncle and Aegon's youngest brother, had a crush on you for years, and it was nothing new to anyone. He was always following you around like a puppy, to the point of even choosing some college classes that were the same as yours so he could spend more time by your side, since he could not stand just seeing his beautiful niece at the hallways of the campus.

It was a little weird, since you were his niece, but you were very attached to Daeron and did not have a cold heart to refuse him and much less to tell your mom about that.

Or maybe a part of your mind was really thinking about trying something with him in the future. Well... Of course Daeron was your dear uncle, but it could not be as weird as the complicated situationship between Aemond and Helaena had with each other, your mom's second half-brother and her half-sister — you still remembered hearing slapping skins and they moaning during an afternoon when you went to visit Daeron, although their youngest brother limited himself to clearing his throat in an embarrassed way and taking you to another room of their big house.

"Unless you've already let him fuck your little pussy."

Aegon's mocking voice interrupted those random thoughts, and you looked at him indignantly, both due to his audacity to say that and due to the words he used. "Don't say that!"

He laughed, putting out the joint and leaning back against the headboard of his bed, placing the beer bottle on the nightstand, which had two empty Monster Energy and an ashtray full of unlit cigarettes. "Don't say what? 'Fuck' or 'your little pussy'?"

Aegon giggled at his own teasing towards you, looking your body up and down with a different look than usual — at least different from what you had already noticed. He usually always had a bored or mocking expression when he was interacting with you.

It was not that Aegon despised you in some way, he started to find you quite pretty and hot ever since your parents divorced and his half-sister and her children moved to a house very close to the one he shared with his siblings. But you were so... Different from him. So different that sometimes he caught himself wondering about corrupting you and turning you into his little whore.

"I need your help, uncle." You chose to ignore that sexual question and get straight to the main current problem.

The fact that you needed his help was something that caught him off guard, considering that you avoided any interaction with him most of the time. However, what surprised Aegon the most was the fact that you called him "uncle", with an almost tearful tone. You did not usually call any of your mom's half-brothers — Aegon because he was too annoying; Aemond because you barely spent time around him, since he hated your brothers, mainly your younger brother Lucerys; and Daeron because you were the same age, the two of you were good friends and he was in love with you, besides you having a little crush on him too —. You just called Helaena "Auntie Hel" because you had been saying those words to her since you were a toddler, and that special nickname hung as an inside joke when both of you grew up.

Despite the initial surprise, Aegon felt his pants getting tighter. Perhaps it was the weed's fault, since it was a very common reaction he always felt when he was high. "My help? And why not call your sweet Auntie Hel?"

You rolled eyes, having no patience for all of that sarcasm. "Holy shit, Aegon. I'm here almost begging, can't be just a little less mean now?"

He mumbled something and nodded reluctantly. "Fine. So sit close to me and tell me right away what you need."

Moving closer to the edge of the bed, but still keeping your distance, you finally began to speak. "Final exams are about to start in a few days, but I can't study."

"Princess, I'm not the best person for asking for help with that fucking boring college stuff."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not asking you for that kind of help." Huffing and shifting uncomfortably in the mattress. The fact that Aegon was not a studious person was obvious, first of all because he had dropped out of economics degree without any warning, without caring about the fact that his father wanted him to share the family company with Rhaenyra. "I'm asking for help 'cause... I've been really tired and I need to stay completely awake and agitated for longer than usual to be ready for my exams."

With wide eyes, Aegon stared at his niece with such surprise that she almost felt like an idiot. "Wait a minute..." He finally seemed to realize what you meant, starting to laugh almost hysterically. "You want me to sell you drugs?"

You almost whimpered after what he said, turning your head to check the open door and make sure none of your other uncles had entered the house in the meantime.

The current job that Aegon dedicated himself to after dropping out of college was not at all normal, and as much as his relatives suspected it, most of them did not get involved about his business — of course Helaena, Aemond and especially Daeron did not want to end up in trouble with the officers because of their older brother, but they also preferred to let him do those things, since at least he did not use the drugs he sold, being already happy smoking weed.

"That's not funny, Aegon. I really need to dedicate myself to my studies but I can't for now."

"People usually seek meds before choosing this path."

"I don't wanna take meds for so long. I'll take that drug only a few times so I can stay awake and energetic enough to study and get good grades."

Aegon sighed with a stern face while he wiped away the tears that had gathered in his eyes due to the previous laughter. "So my innocent niece decided to become a drug addict just 'cause she needs to keep being a nerd?" His tone was sharp and you flinched slightly, sitting there on the bed before his severe gaze. You knew how hypocritical all of that sounded, since you had always judged Aegon for what his dangerous job. "I should send you away from my bedroom, call Rhaenyra and tell her about what her little daughter asked me."

You looked at him with a mix of shock, fear and frustration. "Please don't do that!" Your voice was shaky and you almost felt stupid for humiliating yourself like that. Your mom would be disappointed with what you wanted to do and would lecture you for weeks. And Jacaerys... Your twin brother would definitely force you to stay away from Daeron and Helaena afterwards. "Please, uncle..."

And it happened again. That arousal when you called him that, when you used that tone so trembling that it almost made you seem like an innocent lamb, ready to be corrupted and devoured by him. So unusual from your typical annoying personality.

A few minutes later, Aegon sat there stretching himself and thinking for a moment. Complete silence settled in the room and for a moment you thought he was actually going to send you away and mess up with your life. He was considering something else, though.

"What drug do you want, niece?"

You could not believe what you heard, eyes widening and your body unconsciously moving closer to your uncle, enough to make him hold his breath at the sudden physical proximity. "Are being serious?" Aegon raised an eyebrow, having no patience anymore. Then you swallowed hard and bit the lip in embarrassment before saying. "I thought about crystal meth, or maybe—"

Aegon immediately yelled: "Shut up and don't even finish that fucking sentence!" The anger was clear on his face. "Are you fucking crazy? Do you know how dangerous that shit is?"

You knew it and still thought it was the best alternative. After all, you could not risk messing up your always perfect grades of the previous semester, much less now that you were wanting to try to get an internship.

Your silence was just the last straw for Aegon to scoff. "Give it up, girl. I'm not gonna sell you any fucking Ice. Just stop being a nerd and learn how to deal with the fact that you're gonna get a bad grade for once in your boring life."

"My college life is important to me!"

Aegon clenched his jaw at the loud voice. "Don't you fucking dare shout at me now. You're the one who needs me now, not the other way around."

It was true, much more than you would like to admit. You were the one who was whining for your older uncle to sell meth, a kind of request that was completely unexpected and out of the ordinary. Neither you nor Aegon imagined that something like this would happen.

Your uncle seemed to relax a little bit when he noticed how ashamed you seemed about the situation you had gotten yourself into of your own free will, and lowering the head like you used to do during your childhood. Aegon would hate to see his niece crying, because you did that every time he was forced to take care of you when he was in his teens

"Ice is out of the question. It's too dangerous and instead of staying awake and focused on your stupid stuffs, you'll become aggressive and hallucinating for sure." He declared, realizing that you did not know very well about drugs, which was typical of some nerdy girls. "But..." Your heart almost skipped a beat when he started to give in. "Maybe a weaker option would help. Maybe Ecstasy."

Frowning, you asked him: "Ecstasy? People use it at fraternity parties or clubs."

Aegon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know how it works, dumb kid. I've been selling this type of shit for years... at least you'll stay awake. Probably it'll help you better than the fucking Ice." He stretched, looking at you with a stoic face, as if he was both analyzing you and eager for any answer. "Take it or leave it, niece. I can get you that in two days."

Forcing yourself to ignore your morality and principles, you sighed loudly and nodded. "Alright, uncle... It'll be our secret agreement."

Before you could get into the topic about payment and how much it would cost, Aegon grinned with a cunning look in his eyes. "No, no, niece. I don't want your money." He looked at your body again, the denim shorts you were wearing and the basic black t-shirt. "I want your pussy."

You held a breath, heart racing and trying to understand if you had heard right. If your uncle had really said that. If he really wanted to fuck you. Even though things with him had always been tense, the possibility of him wanting something like that never crossed your mind.

How could you have imagined that he wanted to have sex with you?

With flushed cheek and horrified by his suggestion, you got up from the bed at the same time.

"You can't be serious!"

"And why not? You need the drug and I wanna fuck you."

"You've never said anything like that until now! You've never wanted me in this... In this way."

"I think you're such a annoying nerd, but that doesn't mean I never thought about fuck you." You cringed at his teasing. "C'mon, girl. Just spread your pretty legs for me."

A wave of nausea left an uneasiness inside your stomach, trying to take a deep breath and looking away for a few minutes to think about the matter, to reflect on the pros and cons of the situation.

On the one hand, you would have to have sex with your own uncle, an uncle who never cared so much about you and always treated you kinda gruff. An uncle who was not like Daeron, who despite harboring a forbidden love for you, at least he was one of your best friends — and at least you wanted him too, even if not as much as he wanted you.

Besides, Aegon did not seem to be kind during the act. The possibility of him hurting you sent a chill down your spine.

You needed him, though. And that was a pro that ended up being more important than the cons. His omission about that agreement would be necessary, because you would hate having to deal with your mom and brothers if Aegon spoke with them. And you wanted the drug, maintaining your good academic performance was essential.

"So? Take it or leave it, princess."

Breathing heavily, you nodded. "Alright. I'll... I'll do it." Your answer made Aegon's grin reappear.

Taking advantage of the fact that you were still standing, he gestured to your form. "Let's go, take off your clothes."

Your hands went to the button of your denim shorts, undoing it and lowering the zipper so you could slide it down your legs. The black panties you were wearing were not so attractive, they were not like the lace panties the girls he fucked wore, but he did not seem disappointed at all — in fact, his eyes became darker, as if he liked seeing that you really were not someone who was always ready to have sex with anyone.

Despite almost crying out of embarrassment, you wanted to get this over quickly. Then, without further hesitation, you took off the t-shirt you were wearing, revealing the bra, one of those styles that squeezed quite well the breasts.

"Wow, niece... You really have become a gorgeous little girl." You grimaced at that, choosing to ignore him and just continue what you were doing. The urge to irritate him for a little longer and not take off your underwear arose in your mind, however, the possibility of Aegon taking out his current frustration during sex did not seem at all pleasant.

After you had completely undressed, Aegon's pupils dilated, wanting to devour his niece. Despite it being a sunny day, he saw your goosebumps. You never felt so sexually desired by anyone until now.

Although you had lost virginity a few years ago, nothing compared to the fear you were currently dealing with, nothing compared to the fear of letting your uncle touch you. It was wrong in so many ways, and yet that agreement spoke louder than your moralism or worries.

"Please, uncle... I don't want it." You lowered the head, hoping he would give up on that crazy and cruel idea.

The boner was already visible inside his pants. Aegon would not back down on that decision, much less let you leave the house. Clenching his jaw, he hummed: "You can do it willingly, or I can force you."

You could vomit right there when you realized that the deal with Aegon was worthless anymore. If you said you did not want the drug anymore, he would force it on you anyway. Your own uncle considering doing something so evil just for pure dirty lust.

Of course you were not into that. Not at all. But if Aegon forced you, it would be further worse. He would spare no effort to hurt and threaten you.

Because of that realization, you moved closer to him when he gestured to the bed again. Sitting there, now extremely close, Aegon pulled you by the neck. His hand was strong, even he was smaller than Aemond or Daeron.

"Good girl." That praise was followed by the feeling of his lips on yours. You tried to close your mouth at first, making him growl and squeezing your throat, causing a sharp pain until you opened your lips.

The kiss tasted like weed and beer, mixed with the artificial flavor of your cherry lip balm. The grip of his palm was so tight that your vision blurred, the shortness of breath increasing while his wet tongue forced yours to taste him.

When the saliva from both of you began to drip down your chins, Aegon finally released you. The sight of his niece panting and with a flushed face due to just a simple intense kiss made his body heat up even hotter than it already was.

"Lie down." Aegon pointed to the space next to him. A part of him would have preferred you to continue obeying, since the idea of raping his little niece was a little cruel even for his personality — not that he had not already done similar things with other girls younger than him, but you were somehow important to him, even if he would never admit this weakness.

After you lay down like he ordered, your eyes widened, afraid of the next steps.

Your uncle knelt on the mattress and moved in front of you, frowning in frustration as he saw that your legs remained not spread, trying to hide what he wanted the most. "Now open them."

Your obedience came a few seconds later, and Aegon smirked therefore, watching your pussy so open, just for him. "Fuck, girl. Who would have thought that my little niece has one of the most pretty tight pussies I've ever seen?". You bit the lower lip at hearing such teasing praise.

The fact that you were not wet yet was not a positive for Aegon. However, he did not say anything before spitting on his fingers and then bringing them to your clit. You moaned loudly, the carelessness in his touches was overwhelming making your back arching upwards, mind unable to understand that aching but also pleasure sensation. Not the sensation of being rubbed, but the fact that you did not feel as disgusted as you thought you would.

Aegon's fingers were not soft, the rough friction causing a lot moans and whines, your core starting to get wet, even though you hated yourself for feeling turned on by what was happening to you.

You should have wanted to throw up. You should have begged Aegon to stop that. Or you should have run away from there.

Yet, you did not do any of those things.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Aegon chuckled, looking at you with a bit of amusement and relief, despite everything. "My niece is a fucking little slut."

You shook the head, feeling so humiliated because that was not a lie. You were enjoying it as fuck and your hips rose to seek more friction and rub against his hand, receiving a slap on your clit that forced you to cry out. "Don't fucking lie to me, girl."

When Aegon forced his index finger inside you without any warning, the first reaction was trying to close your legs, which he immediately stopped. Keeping his free palm on your thigh and inserting his middle finger next, he started to fingerfuck your pussy at a pace too fast for your confused brain to process.

Those moans of yours were embarrassing, a mess of meaningless, tearful words that not even he could understand. "Holy shit, are you already all brainless and dumb just with my fingers? Imagine when I fuck my fat cock inside you."

You whined many others random things, but Aegon listened to your pleas for a faster and rougher fingering. His cock throbbed inside his pants, wanting some touch there. So Aegon pulled his fingers out, mocking about your pretty face: wide eyes, flushed cheeks, eyebrows furrowed with an expression that made you look more like a virgin girl than a naughty nineteen-year-old.

"Relax, little niece. I'll give what you need soon."

Despite the possibility of keep teasing you could be interesting, your uncle needed to fuck you soon. Taking off his pants and the dark blue sweatshirt he was wearing, Aegon was left with just his black underwear. You had to pinch your own nipples to try to moan due to other things besides thinking about how hot he looked.

Aegon's beauty was obvious to anyone, even you. But his personality was always a reason why you never went into that kind of sexual thoughts. He was your uncle and also a little shit. A gorgeous little shit.

"Your tight pussy is dripping as fuck..."

The second slap on your core came further harder this time, another scream of pain reverberating in the room. You closed your legs on impulse, spreading them again when Aegon stared at you with fire in the eyes.

He took off his own underwear after a few seconds, revealing some tufts of untrimmed blond hairs of his groin and a cock so tempting it dried your mouth, wanting to feel it in your throat. It was so big, thick like no other guy you had ever slept with. It was also pink, a shade darker at the tip — but not so darker.

“Liking what you see, princess?”

Nodding, your hole clenching around nothing. “Yes, uncle… So much.”

Meanwhile, Aegon held his own member and began to jerking off, admiring your body and getting pleasure in the realization that he was indeed about to fuck his half-sister's only daughter. The niece who was only nineteen, while he was already twenty-eight, approaching his thirties. The niece who had frustrated him deeply since the childhood.

He was about to fuck you before Daeron even had a real chance.

He knew he was hot, despite not having a defined body than Aemond or being slim like Daeron. Aegon could tell that his shape almost resembled a male version of Helaena, and in the same way that both women and men desired his younger sister, the same happened to him. The difference was that Helaena did not care about people desiring her. And meanwhile Aegon relished any opportunity to a good fuck.

Thinking better as you barely managed to control yourself from practically drooling in front of his naked form: "Sit down. I want you sucking on my cock first."

Aegon's order caught you off guard. As soon as you put your initial confusion aside, he pulled you by under your shoulders, not too rude to the point of hurting — only worsening the misunderstanding when he also sat down next to you, still playing with his own cock —. "Have you never given a man a blowjob or handjob in that position?" He asked after stopped you from getting up from the bed and kneeling. "It's okay, princess. I promise it's very easy. Keep sitting there and get on all fours, with that pretty face close to my lap."

You did what he said, noticing that the position would not be comfortable to give him a head. "Like that, uncle?" You said with a sweet but hesitant voice.

Aegon smiled, a truly genuine smile. "Just like that, princess." Running his thumb over your lips before moved his hand up to caress your hair. "Now you can put that pretty mouth to work."

Lowering yourself further, you waited for Aegon to grab his boner and then guide it closer to your face. The tip was already wet with pre-cum and you ran your tongue over it, letting out a whimper at the slightly salty taste.

"Good girl." Aegon sighed, one palm gripping your hair and the other one busy holding his own cock. "Now open up... That's it... Fuck! Fuck!" He growled loud two times and rolled his eyes in pleasure, feeling you take him deep into your throat.

The sounds of your gagging and his moans were echoing around every time you moved the head up and down, trying to focus on keeping to breath through your nose, not wanting to disappoint your uncle — pleasing him at that moment was one of the sexiest things you had allowed yourself to do. Also, that would lead to you getting the drug two days later. It was the deal.

Your uncle reached out his arm towards him and created momentum to pull it down and give you a hard slap on the ass, watching you crying out of pain and choking around his cock when your mouth lowered even further and hit the back of your throat. "Damn, niece. Look at the mess you made..."

His tone was quite mocking and dark. He grabbed your hair to lift you up, his smirk widening as he saw how much spit was running down your chin. "Poor little thing... Can't handle a fat cock inside that tight throat."

Even though your sloppy blowjob had been one of the best he had ever received during all his twenty-eight years of life, his pride was high and admitting that his niece was an expert at giving a head was out of the question.

"You look so fucking pathetic right now."

Those degrading words intensified the shame in your heart, hurting your feelings again when he gathered all the spit that dripped from your mouth and rubbing it on all over your face, every inch of it. "Oh, are you crying now?"

His chuckle was the last straw. You could not take it anymore, sobbing and needing to clean up that mess. "Shush, little one." Aegon used the nickname he sometimes called you when the two of you were younger, then gesturing to the pillow. "Now lie down and spread your legs for me."

Obeying with the heart racing, you moved as Aegon demanded and he knelt back down on the mattress, between your legs. He fingered your core — which was still dripping — twice, once licking his own digits to taste your juices and a second time to wet his own cock — adding more moisture to it, since it was already wet enough with your spit, making his pubic hair glint.

There was no advance notice, Aegon took advantage of that brief distraction and pushing himself into you with a brutal thrust, holding your knees after you cried out so desperate and tried to kick his chest out of reflex. "Be fucking quiet, dammit! Are you so stupid that you can't handle my cock?" Those growled sentences caught you off guard, tears streaming down while he began to thrust faster and harder than you were used to with previous relationships or one-night stand boys.

"S-Stop... It hurts. You're hurting me, uncle!" All the whimpers fell on deaf ears. Aegon lifted your legs up, getting an angle to fuck you better — or hurt you better.

"I don't care. You're gonna take it like a grown-up girl."

It was not a request, it was an order. He did not leave any room for argument, his cock slamming in and out of you. At that pace, your breasts were bouncing and your pussy clenching around him. It felt like you were going to be ripped in half. "Mmm, you've such a warm cunny. I should've fucked you so many years ago."

The feeling of your tight hole crushing him was overwhelming. He growled and arched his neck back, before adjusting his posture again and leaning down to spit on your pussy. His saliva gave you a sudden pleasure and your swollen clit throbbed slightly, the pleasure increasing more and more when Aegon released one of your knees so he could rub you harder.

The crying did not stop and everything continued to hurt as hell, but your moans were no longer of pure physical pain. They turned to moans of masochism desire. "U-Uncle... Please, I need to— Oh, fuck!" With your body trembling, your uncle's ministrations became aggressive like an animal.

Maybe you were so overstimulated and stupid because you had not slept with anyone in a few months. Aegon noticed it easily, feeling you tightening around him and your orgasm coming... Tits bouncing, eyes rolling back in the head, mouth drooling, whining like a virgin girl. Every touch, every thrust... They were like a dark paradise, no matter how violent.

"That's it, you fucking whore... Cum on your uncle's cock like the good cumslut you are." His thumb rubbed faster. "Cum right now, whore. Cream on my fucking big cock."

Without needing any more verbal encouragement, you screamed Aegon's name. So fucking loud. Your pussy convulsed, spasms rippling through you and your back arching.

Aegon groaned at how tight you felt, and he did not give you a rest, hitting your clit with his three palm slaps until you cried out, cumming a second time, squirting into his hand like a porn star.

"Holy shit, girl!" He widened eyes, closing them tightly, feeling the overwhelming climax hit him immediately upon witnessing that sight. Moaning your name and pulling out before it was too late, Aegon spilled his cum on your belly, a few shots dripping onto your beautiful breasts.

You did not know what happened during the next half an hour, consciousness fading and turning you into just an used, brainless doll.

With a headache and with your pussy aching, you tried to move, being held by Aegon's hands, who seemed focused on sucking your breasts and licking the cum he had spilled there.

You let out a whine against your will and considered pushing him away.

But the good sensation of his tongue on your nipple and the sight of his big, beautiful eyes while did it changed your mind.

"There, lick it." Aegon ran a hand over your belly, collecting some of the white seed and brought his three finger into your lips. You licked them without complaining, returning the exchange of glances.

Humming softly, Aegon stood up a little to kiss your forehead, just like he used to do when you were a kid and had to pretend to your family that he was a loving uncle.

You got carried away by stupid, random fantasies during a few minutes, his caress in your sweaty hair were soft and out of the usual indifferent behaviour. "Can I stay here with you a little longer?" You found yourself asking with a vulnerability he was not used to.

As much as he was not a hughe fan of aftercare, it was different when it was with his own little niece. Sighing with feigned irritation, he nodded afterwards.

"Fine, but don't be clingy. I'm not gonna hug you or anything like that just 'cause you let me fuck you in exchange for drugs."

There were no complaints. Aegon lay down next to you and spent the next few minutes texting two friends who were drug dealers and worked with him, telling them he would need some Ecstasy for a "random client."

The silent serenity that followed turned him kinda uncomfortable, and as soon as he looked to the side, he sighed one more time. You were there, sleeping so curled up, clearly with a sore body. "Damn, princess..."

Having sex with your uncle had been against your entire morality. Pulling you gently against his chest and stroking your hair was against Aegon's entire morality.

You had given in, and now it was his turn to give in too.

For the next few hours, Aegon allowed himself to cuddle his niece and fall into a deep sleep.

Daeron hated going back to their house and see what was going on in Aegon's bedroom. Aemond chuckled softly and Helaena was surprised and with a small smile.

None of them dared to interrupt that, all of them agreeing to close the door and leave the two of you sleeping.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[riddlesbunny]

the albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[demigoddessqueens]

tracing them

Masterlist 11

summary: aegon feels insecure about his injuries

a/n - based off @/creativepromptsforwriting list + “It’s not as bad as it looks like.”

Every time you came to visit Aegon , you noticed how his head turned away whenever you got close. It was entirely juvenile of the king but you didn’t pay it much mind.

The other hundreds of badges that adorned his body only proved his futile efforts.

Taking your normal seating by his side, you reached down to intertwine both of your hands together.

“Aegon…, it’s just me. It’s not as bad as it looks…”

Your words tugged at him, even when he knew he never deserved them in the first place. All who ever came to see him did so out of necessity for the Realm. But you? All because of the smallest bits of affection you reserved for each other, away from prying eyes.

The ragged breaths from him cracked with gasps as a hand tightened around yours. The salted tears stung as it mixed with his wounds and healing salts that covered them.

[nebulaafterdark]

A Tale Of Two Dragons

Summary: After suffering a head injury, Princess Y/N forgets the past two years of her life, including her marriage to Aegon. Who will do anything to win her back.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, Smut, Cheesy, Medieval Romcom

Y/N wakes terribly hot, her head throbs and there is something wrapped round her waist. She peels open her eyes…an arm. She flicks it away.

“What is the matter, my dearest love?” A voice grumbles, from behind her. “The maester says you should remain abed for several days.

“Why?” The word is past her lips before she can stop it.

“You hit your head.”

Y/N reaches up toward her throbbing temple, scraping against the forming scab beneath the bandage. Her fingers come away wet.

“You mustn’t touch,” Aegon chides, “let me see.”

Aegon?

Y/N screams at the top of her lungs, rolling onto the floor.

“What is the matter?” Aegon peers over the edge of the mattress. “Does your head hurt?” He springs from the bed, grabbing a cup off the bedside table. “Here, milk of the poppy.” He attempts to bring the chalice to her lips.

Y/N slaps his hand away, the glass shattering over the floor. “Surely poison.”

“What?” Aegon breathes. “Why in the seven hells would it be poison, my heart?”

“Do not call me that.” Y/N snaps, feeling almost sorry for it as his face falls.

“Look at me,” he crouches down to her, cowering in the corner. “What’s happened?”

“I should be asking you! Why are you being kind to me? Why are you sleeping in my bed? Plotting to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you.” He huffs a laugh. Back are the sad, crestfallen eyes.

Y/N forces down the urge to punch him. “Why were you in my bed?”

“To be clear,” Aegon says, motioning behind him, “this is my bedchamber.”

Y/N searches the space behind him, he speaks true. This is not her room. “Why would I be in your bedchamber?”

Aegon’s upper lip twitches, “because you are my wife.”

Y/N laughs, “I am your wife.”

Aegon joins in, anxiously.

“You jest.” She wags a finger at him, “that is the Aegon I know. You have outdone yourself this time.”

Aegon’s eyes search hers for a moment more before he hollers, “guards!”

The doors fly open, “your grace?”

“We must have the grand maester.”

Y/N’s eyes track his movements. Pacing and pacing until the maester appears.

“Is your head troubling you, your grace?” He kneels before her. “I left you with milk of the poppy.”

“She needs more.” Aegon insists.

“She can have no more until the morrow.”

“She did not drink it.” Aegon shouts, “she tossed it away because she thought it poisoned.”

“I would never harm you, your grace. Surely you know that.” The maester addresses the princess directly.

“Not you, me.” Aegon throws up a hand. “She does not know who I am.”

“I know who you are and I do not like you.” Y/N argues.

“That is worse.” Aegon laments, “she does not remember our marriage or our-”

“Your grace,” the maester stops him. “Your lady wife has suffered an injury. It is best not to push the recollection of years past.”

“She will heal then?”

“I cannot say, the mind is unpredictable.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at the maester, “am I truly married to Aegon?”

“Yes, princess. For some two years now.”

“Nearly three,” Aegon corrects him, with a hand to his head.

Y/N’s breathing picks up, unable to calm herself.

“Princess, you must breathe slowly now.”

“I want my mother,” Y/N chokes out.

“I will get your mother,” Aegon offers, “just breathe.”

His command is foreign to her. That he would care. The maester fusses about her as they wait. “All is well, your grace, all is well.”

“I may faint.” She warns.

The maester begins fanning her with his hands.

Rhaenyra appears moments later, with Aegon hot on her heels. “What’s happened, my darling?”

“Mother,” Y/N reaches for her, sobbing against her shoulder.

“Hush now.” Rhaenyra cradles the back of her head, smoothing down her hair.

“I do not know how such a thing could h-happen.”

“What?” Rhaenyra begins swaying her like a babe.

“I woke up beside my sworn enemy, claiming to be my husband.” Y/N tells her, “and worst of all, everyone insists that it’s true. Am I truly married?”

“Yes.”

“To Aegon.”

“Yes.”

“And I am happy about it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Rhaenyra smiles. “You are quite taken with him.”

“To what degree is he hung?” Y/N scoffs. He must be-

Rhaenyra throws her head back with laughter, “I would not know, sweet girl.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “he speaks true then?”

Rhaenyra nods.

“And we are in…” Y/N forces out the word, “love?”

“Very much so.”

Without warning, the princess faints in her mother’s arms.

————————————————————————

“And though all the realm wished for the princess to deliver a son, she blessed the prince with two daughters.”

Y/N comes to, blinking up at the ceiling. Pleased to find that she is in her own bed this time. She nearly finds herself comforted by the voice beside her, before looking over to realize it is Aegon. Seated in the arm chair with a brown leather book in his lap. She sits up, staring him down.

“Don’t,” he slowly closes the book, holding up both hands, “don’t scream.”

“What do you want?” Y/N groans. “I’ve already told you I don’t remember.”

“I’d like to court you.” His lips twitch, nervously.

“Really?” She huffs a laugh. “You, Aegon Targaryen, would rather court me than go find another well suited lady, of high status, to marry you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me?”

“Very much so.”

“More than anyone else?”

Aegon twists his wedding band around his finger. “Yes, more than anyone.”

“Well…what would we do together?” She crosses both arms over her chest, “I can’t imagine we have much in common.”

“Talk, stroll the gardens, fly together on dragon back, whatever you’d like.”

“You told me this morning, I am to remain abed for several days.”

“That’s why I’ve brought this,” he waves the book at her, “thought it might keep you occupied. That or I could dance for you.”

“How well do you dance?”

“Not very,” Aegon admits, “that’s what makes it entertaining.”

Y/N leans up, trying to catch a glimpse of the book’s title. “What book is that?”

“A tale of two dragons.” Aegon pulls it away, “do you want to hear the story or not?”

“I suppose,” Y/N sighs, sinking back into the pillows. “I’ve nothing better to do.”

————————————————————————

For four days he reads to her from that silly book. With each day that passes Y/N finds herself more invested.

“But if a son is expected of the prince, why does he not want for a son?”

Aegon smiles as he closes the book. “That’s all for today, you must rest.”

“I am not tired,” Y/N argues.

“Your eyes tell a different story.”

“Truly, I’m not tired.” She tells him, toying with her marriage ring. “My head hurts is all.”

“Might I try something?”

Y/N scowls, reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His hands cup her face, moving up to her throbbing skull, running his fingertips over her scalp.

It feels nice, though Y/N will never admit it.

“It will help if you stop making such sour faces, Y/N.” Aegon remarks, smoothing his thumb over the furrow between her brows. “My head aches just watching you.”

“You might wear a similar expression after being dealt my hand.” It is odd, her name on his lips. As though he rarely speaks it, save for when he’s angry with her.

“Yes, how devastating it must be; doted on by the man who loves you.” Aegon muses.

“You used to call me a bastard at family gatherings.” Y/N remembers that clearly.

“I used to do a great many things I am not proud of.” Aegon admits. “But the man I am now, the man I am with you…I take great pride in.”

“It will take time, if I’m to trust you again.”

“I have time.” Aegon assures her, “though at present, there is somewhere else I need be.” He presses his lips to her forehead in parting. “Good night.”

Y/N cups his wrist, at the side of her face, for just a moment. “Good night.”

————————————————————————

On the fifth day, the grand maester allows Y/N to leave her apartments, and by the tenth day, she is cleared to fly. Being amongst the clouds always helps clear her mind, mayhaps she will recall something.

“Good morrow, your grace.” Marcello, the dragon keeper greets her.

“Good morrow,” Y/N smiles. “Might you saddle Stormborn for me?”

“At once, Princess. I’m glad you are well.”

Marcello returns a few moments later with the lilac dragon, whining as she nuzzles into Y/N’s hands.

“Issi ao daor biare naejot ūndegon issa, uēpa raqiros?” Are you not happy to see me, old friend? Has something happened between them that she’s forgotten?

Stormborn hums, nudging at Y/N with her head.

“What is the matter with her?” Y/N turns to Marcello.

The dragon keeper lowers his eyes, “she wants for Sunfyre, your grace.”

“She wants-” Y/N breaks off, clunking a fist to her head, “she wants Aegon’s dragon?”

“They are quite close these days.” The man in question says, stalking up behind her. “I heard you were flying out. I thought I might join you.” Aegon explains his presence.

“This is preposterous.” Y/N scoffs, “you mean to tell me we have become so deeply entwined that even our dragons cannot be parted?”

Aegon’s lips turn downward as his brows rise, “yes.”

“What can be done about it?”

“You loved me once, my hope is, you will love me again.” Aegon brushes past her, resting a hand on her dragon’s snout. “There’s naught to be done about it.”

To add further insult, Stormborn leans into his touch, cooing happily.

“I suppose I should pet your dragon.” It’s meant to be a threat, a means to get even.

“Go on,” Aegon encourages, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sunfyre?”

The golden boy begins to serenade her with a low melody. Y/N rests her temple against his head, glaring at Aegon. It is not the dragon’s fault.

“Your dragon understands English?”

“As does yours.” Aegon informs her, “they are highly intelligent creatures.”

“Pōnta issi mēre rūsīr īlva.” They are one with us.

Aegon smiles, “indeed.”

“Do you not speak-”

“Nyke kostagon emagon naejot…vestragon mirrī.” I can have to…say a little.

Y/N bites back a grin, “I could teach you.”

He starts to say something else, but she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Later,” she leans in, pressing a kiss to the back of her own hand. Had it not been there…it would’ve been his lips. Which means nothing, muscle memory, surely. “I’m sorry.”

He catches her wrist, bringing her hand away.“Don’t be.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N enjoys evening strolls with Aegon in the garden, but on occasion she walks alone, outside the walls, wandering near the woods.

“Wait!”

Y/N whips her head around to see Aegon charging at her, knocking her backwards before the steel trap snaps closed near their feet. Two rows of long, jagged teeth, meant to catch animals. She stares at him, in disbelief.

“They doubled the number of traps round the castle in these past years. I did not know if you’d recall.” Aegon explains, still holding her in the safety of his arms.

“You…imbecile!” Y/N returns the awkward embrace.

“Please, call me husband.” Aegon smirks.

“You could’ve been maimed.”

“Better me than you.”

Y/N groans in frustration, “quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Charming me.” She pulls away enough to see him.

No, not the sad eyes.

“I should like to know you better first.” Imbecile, she curses herself.

“What do you say we go back to your rooms and I will read to you?” Aegon suggests, “I’ll even bring cake.”

There it is, that tugging in her chest. “I do love cake.”

“When you were-” Aegon trails off, “there was a time all you would eat was cake.”

Y/N presses a hand to her head, “when I was what?”

“In due time, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles, sadly. “The grand maester says we mustn’t push, you’ve made great progress already.”

————————————————————————

She recalls a great many things over the next weeks. Trying and failing to teach Aegon High Valryian, eating cake with him and laughing until their sides ache. But there are a number of things she cannot recall.

“Where is it you go?” She wonders, “when you are not with me? You said,” Y/N closes her eyes until the words come to her, “you said you want always to be with me.”

Aegon’s eyes widen, “yes, I did say that. You remember?”

“Not nearly enough, just silly things.” Y/N admits, “sometimes…I think I might’ve been with child.”

Oh.

“That’s it, isn’t it? We’ve a child.”

“Two actually, daughters.”

“One after another like clockwork, then?” She arches a brow, resting a hand over her empty womb, “you’re late.”

Aegon grins, “both at once.”

“Efficient.”

“Well, we are nothing if not thorough.”

“With the way you look at me, I’m surprised there are only two children.”

“The birthing bed was not kind to you. I would love any child of ours, but I would not inflict such suffering upon you again.”

Y/N sighs, “you are so in love. I wish desperately to remember.”

“You could love me again.”

“What if it is different than what we shared? What if it does not please you as much?”

Aegon shakes his head, “then it will be different and I will be glad for it all the same.”

“Might I come with you to see them?” Y/N asks, wringing her hands.

“They should like that very much, they’ve been asking for you.”

“What are their names?”

“Dahlia and Visera.” Aegon tells her, “it might be difficult for you to tell them apart at first.”

“Dahlia is a Strong name.” Y/N whispers.

“And Visera was named for Viserys. If we would’ve had a son, we might’ve named him-”

“Laenor.” She breathes, recalling the smile on Aegon’s face as they’d discussed it, over the prominent swell of her belly. Subsequently leading his kisses to trail lower…her cheeks heats up.

“Yes,” Aegon swallows. Mayhaps he is recalling the same conversation.

The twins are playing happily on the floor, with their maids when Y/N enters the room behind Aegon.

“Papa!” They race to him, waiting to be taken into his arms.

“Hello, my darlings.” He holds one in each arm, kissing their little silver heads.

The child on the left sees Y/N first, blinking at her twice, to be sure. “Mama.”

The little girl on the right follows her gaze. “Mama!”

Y/N reaches for them out of instinct, hugging them to her as they are transferred into her arms from Aegon’s. “My girls.”

————————————————————————

Time passes, Aegon and Y/N have long since accepted she will never remember everything. What they share now is different, but wonderful, nonetheless.

Aegon and their children fill Y/N’s days with joy, though she still feels a bit guilty for the life she forgot.

She and her husband sneak out of their daughters’ rooms once they’ve found sleep. Walking back towards Y/N’s apartments with their arms linked.

Aegon bids her good night at the door, with a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Stay,” Y/N insists, turning her face enough to catch his lips.

“What are you-” Aegon smiles against her mouth.

“It hurts to look at you and not touch you.” Y/N murmurs, reeling him back in and burying her hands in his hair. “If you mean what you say, and you will be happy with me even if I am different, I want to be happy with you.”

“It pleases me to hear you say this, my darling. But are you certain?”

“I want you in my bed, always,” Y/N whispers. “Or to lie with you in yours. To wake with you each morning and spend each night at your side. Though right now there is nothing I want more than your cock in me. Is that certain enough for you?”

Aegon chuckles into her mouth, “that’ll do it.” He pushes open the door, leading her deep into her rooms, until they reach her bed chamber. He unlaces her gown with practiced hands. “Gevie.”Beautiful.

She works him out of his robes, kissing the underside of his jaw. “Gevie.”

He smirks, moving her to the bed. Positioning her sweet head against the pillows, stroking wayward hair from her face. Taking a long moment to look upon her, their gazes locked. Aegon kisses the tip of her nose. “Let us see if you remember this, shall we?”

His lips trail down her neck, across her collarbones to her breasts. Licking and suckling at the entirety of them before bringing a sensitive peak into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Y/N holds him to her.

“Mmm,” he hums, in approval as her hips buck up against his. “Anything coming to mind?”

“I’m afraid not, husband.” Y/N whines as he pulls away, “you’ll need to keep going.”

“Of course,” Aegon latches happily to the opposite nipple, flicking the first between his fingers. Lower and lower his mouth goes, swirling her navel, skating over the skin of her sex.

Y/N nearly faints as he parts her with his thumbs, exposing her pearl to his starved tongue. “Oh!” Her memory of this particular act, does it no justice.

He sighs against her, as though he’s waited the whole of his life to be in this moment with her.

She does not know how to be loved that way, or to give such love in return. But she wants to learn.

Aegon coaxes her through one peak to the next, relishing her breathless giggles as she shoves at his head.

“Enough,” she covers her face with both hands, “enough.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing a feather light kiss to her cunt before retreating, back up to her face. Caging her head between his elbows, hovering over her. “Still nothing?”

“Not a thing, perhaps if you continue.” Y/N reaches between them, taking his cock in hand and stroking, lightly.

Aegon shakes his head, “of course.”

She positions him at her entrance, feeling him slide into her with ease. As though he belongs there. Her hands find his face, stroking his cheeks, reeling him in for sweet kisses or to pant against his mouth. Committing him to memory.

“I love you,” he says, pressing kisses to her fingers, “we’re going to make new memories together, you and I.”

“I love you.” The words fall from her lips, without hesitation. “I love you.”

“I have gone too long without your touch, I will not last.” He warns.

“That’s alright.” Y/N assures him, “I’m nearly there.” Still sensitive from his tongue.

It’s all he can do to hold off until he feels her walls pulse around him, “good girl.” He groans, emptying his spend.

Y/N nuzzles her nose against his. “Aegon?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

His eyes open wide, meeting her gaze. “You remember?

Y/N nods, feeling tears prickle at the back of her eyes. “I am so sorry, I’ve no idea how I could forget you…us, our daughters, this life together is the world to me.”

“It was not by choice.” He rests his forehead against hers. “If I ever sustain a head injury, I’ll expect you to court me in return.”

“Mayhaps I will court you now, just because.” Y/N wants nothing more than to shower him with affection. “That story you read to me was ours, how did you get it?”

“I wrote it.” Aegon tells her, “to share one day with our children and their children’s children, their children’s children after that.”

Taglist: @21-princess @ladyriverasafepace @oh-you-mean-me @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @donalesaa @cookiesnfeesh @barnes70stark

[nalyniavadelletargaryen]

[ HOTD - Greif-striken Aegon ]

Summary: At the Queen Dowager's request, you take on the role of Jaehaera’s primary caregiver but bear the burden of catching the King’s eye.

Warnings: canon Aegon + dubcon / noncon + mentions of death + slight angst + hurt/comfort + smut

Grief-stricken Aegon is surprised to see you playing with his daughter in the garden, temporarily distracted from his anger by a curiosity about you. Jaehaera sits on your lap as you play with her, keeping her happy and your focus solely on her. Although the King doesn’t recognize you, he hesitates before approaching you, his anger turning into interest when you smile at him. You had been warned by his mother to be cautious of him, given the grief in the castle after the loss of the young prince. Despite your reservations, you decide to be kind and give Aegon the benefit of the doubt as you respectfully acknowledge him and then return your attention to Jaehera.

Grief-stricken Aegon leaves you with his daughter, slipping back into a quiet rage as the sight of her reminds him of Jaehaerys. You cradle the young girl close as her father stalks down the stone halls. Sighing in relief, you watch his silver locks disappear around a corner, completely relaxing when Jaehrra smiles. In a month, she had grown attached to you, mistakenly calling you 'mama' once or twice, but you always managed to correct her. Although your heart fluttered at her recognition, you knew very well that her birth mother, Queen Helena, needed no more strife and that prying ears would quickly spread the rumor of her quick attachment to you. When it happened a third time, you corrected Jaehaera as always, cheeks warm with gratitude. However, your decision remained firm. Unfortunately, you were not quick enough to hush her with a gentle reprimand, and Sir Larys overheard the young princess's adoration for you as he passed by the library where you read to her before supper. He wasted little time using the new revelation to his advantage. He tells the King of Jaehera's love for you, explaining it as a harmless but vaguely dangerous trust shift. Aegon feeds into his observation with contained interest.

Grief-stricken Aegon, overcome with sorrow, sends for you the following evening, calling you to the council room after a long day of war planning. You come at his command after putting Jahera to bed and bidding the Queen goodnight. You take your time to reach him, rightfully afraid of the man you've heard raging about the castle in a constant state of vengeance. You're particularly fearful of your growing desire to feel his pain somehow. Jaehaera is the sweet and well-mannered maiden child, much like her mother, and you can only begin to imagine how lovely her brother had been. You know well that pitying their father shouldn't be your prominent state of mind, but having a tender heart makes it devastatingly hard not to. So, you heed his call, entering the council room and standing at the doors with your head held preemptively low. You greet him quietly, withholding the tremor in your tone as you try to steel yourself against his scrutinizing stare.

Grief-stricken Aegon was far from displeased by the sight of you. Since he briefly saw you in the Keep's courtyard, hed been considering many details and assets you possessed. You appeared pious, gentle, and careful in how you presented yourself. You held the traits he knew his mother had explicitly sought: modesty and fairness. Aegon assumed you were a young lady, yet how you carried yourself made him believe you had surpassed his sister's maturity. He took note of the seven-pointed star necklace you kept clasped around your neck; the gold jewelry glinted on your bare skin, bringing out the light colors of the dresses you wore. You never bared green, a minuscule detail that pleased him. The influence of his family hadn’t reached you, and it was an odd relief. You had no allegiance to an agenda, were content with your role, and were not invested in the schemes around him. In his eyes, you were perfect, pure, and identical to the maiden herself.

Greif-stricken Aegon doesn’t confess his sins to you, though. You were never bringing to light the thoughts he’s had about you. The very sound of your voice started his descent into obsession. Hearing you sing soothing lullabies to Jaehaera, seeing you cradle her close, watching you praise her most minor achievements drove his mind to places it’d refrained from going after the death of his son. Motherly. You are sound of mind and careful with the last of his children. You embodied what his dear sister's wife couldn’t: motherhood. It drove Aegon mad in the dead night, his chambers filled with the sound of his moans as he fisted his cock to the very thought of you.

Greif-stricken Aegon refrains from forcing himself on you the first night you visit him, choosing to pry into your life with direct questions and bittersweet compliments for most of the exchange. You’re relieved to experience his generally pleasant side, amused by the scathing jokes he tells between conversations, and pleased to make him smile with your witty remarks. Your walls of caution break down little by little as he invites your company, letting you recount stories of impractical adventures with his daughter and surprisingly invested in hearing them. You ramble a bit, unsure how to feel about his direct attention and nervous to speak so casually to the King himself. Aegon reassures you that your talkative nature is anything but frustrating, reaching out to lift your chin and graze the warm skin of your cheeks with his fingertips. Your dormant blush brightens when he smiles at you, leaning in to kiss your parted lips tenderly before you can stop him. You had no intention of kissing him back, utterly shocked he'd even be so bold with you, to begin with, but he refused to let you shy away from him. One kiss spiraled into several, every one messier than the last, and your head spinning as the lingering bitterness of wine on his tongue soaked into yours. Aegon pressed for more when you pulled away to breathe. It was all too much, and you rushed to excuse yourself and leave him for the night. He didn't stop you, loving the sight of fear and excitement consuming your tender exterior at his will.

Greif-stricken Aegon calls on you often after that evening. He is no longer satisfied with pleasing himself alone. Aegon is reckless with his dependence on you, not caring that you put up a fight every time, trying to reason with him as he buries his cock in your fluttering walls. You scratch, cry, and beg. Doing and saying anything for the slightest chance of mercy, but Aegon spares you none. He forces pleasure into your veins, slaving away in your cunt night after night and committed to coating your untouched womb with his seed. You feel trapped in the cycle he starts, fulfilling your duties by day and spreading your legs for him at night. It tore you to pieces that your body ached for him constantly, the very shape of cock engraved into you, the space between your thighs undeniably drenched hours before he had you entrapped in his embrace. It’s distracting. He is distracting, and it's no help that he begins to spend more time with his daughter to spend even more with you. Aegon’s hands constantly wander where they shouldn’t, tracing your curves over the binds of your dress as you tend to Jaehaera, and it takes all of your will not to run from him. He feeds on your unease, your breaths slower, eyes fixed in the distance, and the apple of your cheeks turning red. He tells you to settle down, focus on your duties, and disregard his lingering presence, and by the gods grace, you can do just that. It’s a relief that his mother, grandsire, or anyone of consequence steals him away. You say nothing to keep him at your side, missing the feeling of his hands, the sound of his voice, and the air of control he envelopes you in, but joyous to be free of him. You can focus. You can calm the heat in your core.

Greif-striken Aegon takes no issue with keeping you in his bed for hours on end, marveling at the sight of you falling apart on his cock, begging for more of it as your legs shake from another high. You’ve given up on running, on reasoning, on being moderately intelligent, enduring the deep thrusts and mind-numbing pace he sets in thinly veiled excitement. There’s no point of hiding uit any longer, no viable way of convincing him you don’t want him to take you. Its your obligation to please him, to be that perfect little mistress, to give his lonely daughter a new playmate is it not? So, you resort to embracing his attention - as unforgiving and possessive as it may be.

Grief-stricken Aegon doesn’t ask your permission to release inside of you, forcing his seed as deep as possible, holding you down in a vice grip anytime you attempt to writhe away. It’s warm, thick, and filling. You’ve only tried to bathe once after hours of him bedding you, and he was furious. From then on, Aegon denied you the choice of washing the evidence of his claim on you away and commanding you to let his seed leak from between your thighs for a minimum of a fortnight. Appalled and rightfully defiant to the idea, you first threatened to confess to his mother about your shared deeds, but Aegon taunted you. He knew you’d rather suffer his stipulation than endure the wrath of Queen Alicent’s modesty. “Tell her and see what becomes of you..” he seethes into your ear, hand tangled in your fallen hair to keep you bent over the edge of his bed, snapping his hips harder against you when a half-hearted cry falls from your lips. You won't tell her. You can't even begin to think of unburdening yourself without acknowledging the joy you took in being used for his pleasure. Even now, as your essence dripped down your inner thighs, coating his cock with every unforgiving movement he made, you simply gave in to sin. His sin.

Grief-stricken Aegon is unsurprised when he notices signs that you are carrying his child. You become emotionally and physically sensitive. You continue caring for Jaehera while trying to hide your changing demeanor, keeping it a secret. However, Aegon cannot help but stay close to you and treats you as if you're made from glass with little regard for those who notice him showing you favor, which draws the interest of his council members—especially his ever-vigilant mother. Days pass before the maester leaves tea for you. On the night Queen Alicent visits your chambers, she expresses disappointment and scolds you for being careless. You hesitate to follow the Dowager Queen's advice, refusing to drink the remedy left for you and crying the entire night after she takes her leave.

Greif-stricken Aegon hears of your pregnancy the day after, ever so gleeful to endure his mother's berating and nowhere near ashamed of what he's done to you. He tells you it won't be the last time you carry his child, sitting you on his lap in the privacy of his chambers as the day comes to an end, and you haven't the emotional strength to keep fighting him. What's done is done, and you have no heart for ridding yourself of his so-called ‘gift.’ It's sick and twisted, but you've fallen into the headspace he's wanted for so long. A willing servant, one dedicated to her role in his domain of power, and one who will bear as many children as he desires.

What more could a lovely, loyal girl like you ask for?

A/N: Why is it so hard to write smut for this man?! It's usually so easy, but now I'm struggling. It's unfair because I have a lot of great ideas…

{ BONUS CONTENT + }

Credits to the creator 💚 He owns 85% of the space in my gallery app. I'm obsessed, and it shows…

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: arranged to be wed to prince aegon ii by oppressive parentage, you are bewildered to learn that he seems just as nervous as you, and that this union isn’t as hopeless as it seems.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.5K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), aegon isn’t a good person but he’s also tormented, canon-typical misogyny, arranged marriage, loss of virginity (reader), pathetic aegon, switch!aegon (mild sub!aegon) begging, dry humping/grinding, making out, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, unprotected p in v sex, descriptions of cum, multiple positions (lotus, cowgirl), sweeter ending + aftercare.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: writing for aegon is such a challenge for me because I’m scared of getting him right, so I hope this is good! I also apologize for the fic length, I wasn’t expecting it to be this long! thank you all so much for any support this gets! ❤️ much love!

IT WAS OFTEN THE REASON FOR EXISTING, A YOUNG LADY OF A NOBLE HOUSE — MADE TO WED A FOREIGN LORD, SHIPPED AWAY TO UNFAMILIAR LANDS AND PROVIDE HEIRS. IT WAS YOUR SUPPOSED PURPOSE, IMPRESSED UPON YOU FROM YOUR FLOWERING ADOLESCENCE TO ADULTHOOD.

Only, you were to become a queen, with time.

House Tyrell was the presiding power of The Reach, a font of wealth and lavishness for the Seven Kingdoms, with Highgarden as its primary seat — a castle that bested Casterly Rock in stature and beauty.

Forging alliances often came through lucrative marriage proposals, and you were bound to one, inevitably made to wed Aegon II Targaryen, the supposed heir to the Iron Throne.

Whispers of men who had seen too many winters spoke of Aegon’s ascension over that of Princess Rhaenyra, men who never saw a woman as anything more than a prize to be won. It filled you with such dread, wondering if Aegon would view you in the same light — a conquest.

King’s Landing was a pungent place, with a populace crammed into walls that cared little for them. It made you yearn for Highgarden, for the loamy trees bristling with ivory blossoms, for the air that carried the scent of a perfumed dowager.

Stench of city sewage filled your nostrils as your noble carriage buckled across uneven streets, the cobblestone shoddy compared to that of Oldtown. Your parents accompanied you, with little comfort to offer other than threadbare reassurances.

Rumors reached your ears of Prince Aegon’s lecherous nature — a spoiled man who preferred drowning in his cups and whoremongering through the Streets of Silk. You feared what new existence this wedding might yield for you, what fate awaited you after tomorrow.

Yet, they were rumors — you continued to offer yourself some words of encouragement, in hopes that your expectations of the Targaryen Prince would not be shattered upon first meeting.

The Red Keep glowered above you, its shadow oppressive and not at all welcoming as you hoped it would be. Instead, its pointed pillars and garish walls served as a reminder that this would be your home — no more ivory stones of Highgarden.

A wave of nausea overcame you, rocking through your stomach like the turbulence of crashing tides, settling uneasily within your bones. The corset you wore made it difficult to fully catch your breath, constricting you like a vice.

If House Tyrell were known for anything, it was their beauty, their lavishness — and you were no exception; the pretty rose, unwilted and comely. Your appearance was akin to a whimsical fable, known by all who had taken an interest in your family.

As your host circled into the courtyard of the Red Keep, you glimpsed a row of Targaryen bannermen intermingled with that of House Hightower. An older man stood at the top of the steps, accompanied by one of the Kingsguard.

“Do not slouch, or pout,” Your mother warned, leaning over to fix a facet of your gown, brows furrowed together. “It is unbecoming of a princess to-be.” Her utterance could cut as sharp as any blade.

“Of course, Mother.” With a courteous reply, you nearly cringed when the carriage came to a sluggish halt, as your parents made their exit first, with you soon to follow.

It was a relief to find a sliver of fresh air, no longer suffocating to an early grave within your carriage. You stood up straight, unnaturally so, rigid in your stance as you accompanied your host to meet the stalwart figure of Otto Hightower.

“King Viserys extends his welcome,” Otto uttered, countenance a calculating one. His gray eyes drifted to you, and you seemed to shrink, withering away beneath his glower. “As does House Hightower.”

“I assume the final preparations are underway?” Your father quipped, desperate to get this over with. The peacocking and ceremony of a royal wedding was often a headache, and the expenses were vast and never-ending.

“They are,” Lord Hightower gestured for you all to follow, the gates creaking open to herald your host into the Red Keep. “They will be wed on the morrow. Your chambers are prepared for your stay.”

“Excellent. I detest these lengthy walks,” Your mother groaned, and still, you said nothing. “I desire an audience with the Queen, should she make herself available.”

It all became rather dull — a background buzz that promptly simmered into nothingness for you. Talk of weddings, political affairs, the frivolity of it all — you wanted this to be done. Fear and anxiousness drove you now, fretting over whether or not the Prince would like you.

Once, you had dreamed of your wedding, of finding one you loved and basking in the warmth of it all. Here, you felt cold and stiff, yielding to the desires and machinations of others, prepared to be sold off like some prized broodmare.

Instead, you silently admired the architectural wonder of the Red Keep, the scaling walls and massive, winding staircases. It became easier to avert your attention elsewhere, to keep your mind preoccupied.

Ascending the staircase, you gathered your skirts in fistfuls, taking careful steps up behind your parents. The conversation at-hand held nothing of merit for you, and there was not a single murmur in regards to Prince Aegon.

Perhaps he feared this just as much as you did, forced into a union with a stranger to appease the powers that reigned. You wanted to meet him, assure that, with time, you could grow to love one another and achieve happiness.

Perhaps, he cared very little for it.

Aegon was crushed beneath the weight of being made to obey the whims of family for some time — his mother, his grandsire. His own father did not falter from naming Rhaenyra as heir to the Iron Throne, a choice that embittered some.

In the eyes of his father, he would never measure to the beacon of light that was his half-sister. Aegon the failure, Aegon the foolish. Any desire for the Iron Throne died long ago in his youth, along with any aspirations for going above his station.

Upon being told that he would wed the young lady of House Tyrell, he did not rage and bark at those who had a hand in it. It was easier to quietly accept his fate, to play the part of a dutiful son — perhaps then, he would finally be viewed as favorable in the eyes of those that pulled him apart.

His whoremongering and rampant salaciousness were immediately put to the executioner’s block, with Otto berating him for his blatant recklessness. Aegon had learned to take whatever verbal punishment was hurled at him — stand and take it, wet tears glistening within his lilac hues.

That and his drinking were no longer permitted, and so Aegon took to reluctant isolation. He could only imagine what vile things you’d been told about him — the lecherous, drunkard Targaryen with nothing but a title to his name.

Yet, when he saw you in the courtyard of the Red Keep from the ramparts, riding the coattails of your oppressive parents, a sliver of him could empathize. He did not want to like you, of course, but he did have a beating heart, even still.

Your posture bore a semblance of desperation, clawing your way toward the approval of your forebears, desiring nothing more than to appease. Aegon knew what that was like — he’d been trying to do it all his life.

“Be satisfied that she is a beautiful creature, brother,” Aemond uttered, arms folded behind his back as he stood beside Aegon, one eye glowering down upon you from afar. “This could be much worse.”

Aegon scoffed, his smile mirthless and anguished as he stood upright, a wisp of a breeze stirring his pale tresses. “As everyone ceaselessly continues to remind me.” He retorted, one hand clenching into a fist.

Aemond hummed, clicking his tongue as he turned toward Aegon, pale brows furrowing together. “This was inevitable, as is your duty to our house,” He uttered, reminding his brother of his purpose. “I suggest making the most of it, instead of resorting to self-pity.”

There was always a lack of propriety with Aegon — a lack of determination, no drive to become anything more than a gluttonous Prince. Aemond studied the sword, the histories, language, politics — and yet he was never yielded an opportunity such as this.

Aegon’s countenance was one of clear disdain, finding little joy in his brother’s aloof scolding. “You sound like Mother,” With an embittered tone, he ran a palm across his face, looking down at you again. “House fucking Tyrell.”

Clearly, this was all his grandsire’s work — there could be no other mastermind behind such an advantageous alliance. His mother would always go along with such ideas, forever beneath his thumb — trapped in her cage, much like he was.

Yet, Aemond did have something of a point.

At the very least, Aegon could learn to tolerate your presence — and you were incredibly beautiful, even from afar. Whispers of your splendor had reached him at the initiation of your betrothal. Attractive company would not be the end of the world, but he wondered if you were airheaded and self-centered.

It was something he would have to discover for himself, much to his own misfortune.

You terrified him.

Aegon spent much of his evening gathering gossip and information about you — your supposed mannerisms, the topics you conversed about, your demeanor. All servants seemed to come to the same crossroads — you were truly pious, and kindhearted.

The sudden desire to appear likable and gallant was thrust to the forefront of his mind, the need for validation born from deeply-rooted insecurities. For so much of his life, he had toiled over wanting everyone to gravitate towards him, to find him captivating as they had Rhaenyra.

He detested having to put up some performance in the name of appealing to you, but he could not stop himself, now. Aegon knew that seeking you out before your wedding was untoward and improper, but he needed to speak to you himself.

It pained him to realize that he cared for the perspective of a stranger — for the opinions of a woman whom he hadn’t yet uttered a word to.

There was a rotten weight upon his shoulders, the weight of satisfying his family, to no longer be looked upon with disdain. The notion that he was the disappointment had always danced around him, and now, it was staring him down.

On the morrow, he would be wed — a husband, perhaps a father, if you even permitted him to touch you. Seven Hells, he was going to wretch.

A bottle of Dornish Red had been carefully stashed away beneath a loose cobblestone in his chambers, and he intended on drowning in it somewhere in the gardens. The hour was becoming late — now the hour of the bat, a listless dusk shrouded by gray wisps of cloud.

Aegon’s mind was plagued by thoughts of you, of disappointing you, knowing that you were just as shackled to this union of convenience as he was. Had he not drawn attention to himself through debauchery, this might’ve never happened.

Truthfully, he had no one to blame but himself.

Beneath the floral canopies of the royal gardens, Aegon snuck away from his chambers, preferring to drink in solace whilst the opportunity presented itself. Stars glistened above, thousands of twinkling lights that accompanied the silver glower of the moon.

Clad in a loose, sage tunic and linen breeches, he wandered through the gardens, bottle in-hand, countenance one of despondency. There was a small terrace where he often went to drown in the depths of a bottle, rage to the skies.

A loose shape remained seated along the bannister, head hung in a state of despair — the image of such grace, the maiden herself.

Aegon hadn’t expected to find you here, dwelling within his typical nook, brows drawn together as you picked at the skin of your cuticles. His clumsy footfalls alerted you, bewildered hues meeting those of lilac, just as confused as you were.

“My Prince,” A strangled gasp erupted from your throat as you hastily stood, curtsying as if your head would fall from your shoulders from sluggishness. “I — I was not expecting you. I will relocate.”

The envy of a thousand stars, Aegon thought; beauty incarnate stood before him with such humility that it very nearly subdued him. He was not often reduced to such boyish nerves in the presence of women, but you seemed to do just that.

Acclaimed was your charm, a comeliness so enchanting that many were ensnared, and he was no exception to this. Aegon felt a cold perspiration slither along his palms, grip becoming tighter around the bottle’s throat.

“You cannot find rest either,” Aegon’s jaw tensed as he pointed out the obvious, pale tresses tousled, turned white from the moon. “I was just …” A begrudging sigh escaped him as he held the bottle of wine aloft.

“May I join you?” Your inquiry was sudden and unexpected — Aegon nearly turned you away until he saw the anxious state you were in, much like himself.

Aegon gaped, lips parting as he gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders. He stepped forward, sinking down atop one of the stone benches lining the bannister walls. Wordlessly, you approached him, taking a seat at his side, ensuring a comfortable distance.

Upon closer inspection, you were pleased to find that Aegon was handsome — ethereal, in fact. Many Targaryens were renowned for their physical beauty, from pale tresses to violet hues, and he was no exception to this.

“Do you drink because of me?”

The question was born of fear, of a gnawing nervousness that ate away at your very bones. You worried that Aegon was already resentful without knowing you fully, but even he seemed perplexed by your inquiry.

“Not because of you,” Aegon uttered, removing the cork from the bottle before taking a swig, sweet red trickling down his throat. “I suppose this is not an ideal position to be in — for either of us.”

Your hands stilled within your lap as you considered his words, and you did agree. It was not ideal, nor was it something either of you desired. “It is not, but that does not mean that it must be miserable. I have no ill will towards you.”

Aegon scoffed, his mirthless smile striking you as the inner turmoil of a young man coming to terms with his new reality. You did not begrudge him so — it was easy to empathize, given that you were in the same situation.

“You may change your mind,” He uttered, taking another hearty gulp of Dornish Red, allowing it to ease some of his own nerves. “I would not fault you for it.” Aegon stated, twisting one of his rings around upon his finger.

Being a poor husband was something he’d witnessed between his own family — his Mother, far too young to be wed to an old man, and his father, now withered and decrepit. Maybe there was love, but he seldom saw it.

Brazenly, you reached for the bottle of wine, and he relinquished it, watching with surprise as you took a rather daring swig. It was sweet yet strong, causing you to sputter before you gave it back.

“And if I do not change my mind? Are you insinuating that you will change it for me?” Your questioning was growing sharp, tinged with frustration. You did not want to dislike him — you wanted him to give you no reason to feel that way.

Lilac hues shifted toward you, ivory brows knitting together as he drank again. He wondered what all you knew of him — the rumors, the whispers of his frequent whoring. “Is your mind not already set firm on such thoughts?”

With a look of concern, you shook your head, fingers idly plucking at your sleeves. “It is not,” You murmured, head canting to one side. “I cannot judge you without a foundation — I do not know you, my Prince.”

Aegon was rather bewildered at your confession, but part of him did not believe you. It was commonplace to be plagued by rumors of one’s betrothed — perhaps you neglected to tell the truth to spare his feelings.

“There is little to know.” Aegon sold himself short, greedily consuming yet another barrage of sips from the wine. He knew he needed to slow down — it was dulling his senses.

“Must you discredit yourself so quickly? I would disagree — there is plenty to know, and I wish to discover it all for myself.” With a firm retort, you sat up a little straighter, remembering the quipped words of your mother.

He despised how likable you truly were — if he loathed you, it would make it easier on himself, in this union. Aegon did not wish to spend each waking moment clawing for your affections, knowing it would only end in disappointment.

Silence drifted between the two of you, until the only sound was that of the wind, the rustling of vines and flora along the lattice canopies. Aegon drank another few swigs — it was not in his best interest.

His insecurities were palpable upon your tongue, you realized — there were more layers to Aegon than he was willing to let on. You noticed the wet sheen within his violet hues, a forlornly sense of anguish that washed over him.

You wanted him to try to be happy.

If he were so determined in making himself miserable, you knew that it would inevitably take you with him. A soft sigh escaped your parted lips as you pressed your palm against his bicep.

“I am not asking for you to be delighted and joyous, but I do … I want you to be somewhat happy. I wish for us to try and make one another happy,” Your suggestion was something Aegon was willing to consider. “Will you consider it?”

Aegon hesitated, feeling the first inklings of frustration paint his features, eyes wet with the onslaught of tears. He always thought himself unlovable — his family detested him, thought him to be insignificant.

There was nothing stopping you from following in their sentiments — and if you did, he would not blame you for it. Gods, he loathed himself — wallowing in misery, begging for a reprieve.

If anyone could grow to love him, it would be you — you, this beautiful, tenderhearted stranger who captivated him so. Aegon did not want to squander such an opportunity to find a potential solace in the one person who wished the same from him.

Instead, he nodded, placing the bottle of Dornish Red off to the side, knowing that if he indulged himself further, it would be disastrous. “I will try.” Aegon uttered, head hung as he rested his elbows against his thighs.

“Thank you, my Prince.” Without hesitation, you leaned over, pressing a chaste kiss against the side of his head. Aegon felt his breath hitch within his throat, preening at such a small gesture of affection — he could feel it in his marrow.

A surging buzz bristled throughout his body, the heady sting of intoxicants finding residence within his bones. His mind became somewhat clouded, plagued by both drink and a whirlwind of endless thoughts.

Gathering your gown in delicate fistfuls, you politely stood from the bench, exhaustion seeping into your being. “I should be returning to my chambers, before I am discovered,” You cleared your throat. “Unless there is anything else, your Grace.”

“Aegon,” His insistence bled through, a clammy perspiration breaking out along his palms. Turning his chin upward to face you, Aegon felt his heart seize within his chest, an unfamiliar fire blooming throughout. “We can abandon the formalities.”

Lilac hues set within pale flesh seemed to be glistening with tears; tears that you could not fully comprehend. Grayish circles encapsulated his eyes, making him appear a touch gaunt.

Aegon leaned back against the bannister, sage tunic taut against his musculature, which happened to lack sinewy definition. He was not nearly as whiplike as Aemond, revealing his streak of overindulgence with wine.

With all of his flaws bubbling to the surface, he observed you in rapt silence, noticing the semblance of appreciation that crossed your features. Your quiet admiration lacked subtlety, and Aegon nearly blushed beneath your warm gaze.

“Aegon,” His name rolled from your pretty tongue, such a saccharine utterance — you spoke his name with such a beguiling tone. “The name suits you.” The weight of your compliment was one that he clung to; desperately.

Histories often regaled the name Aegon — Aegon the Conqueror, whose reign began that of the Targaryen dynasty in Westeros. To have a name with such bearing, one would be destined for greatness.

Aegon did not think so — given the Conqueror’s name, his blade, his coat of arms — but nothing more. His father detested him so, and no matter what he did, there was no outpouring of love or appreciation.

He disliked how easy it was to let his barriers dissolve beneath your comforting gaze — vulnerability laid bare, allowing you to trace his heart with your fingers. “You jest.” Aegon uttered, earning a look of confusion from you.

Aemond was the stoic one, unyielding and stalwart with a piercing eye and indifferent scowl, and Aegon occasionally wore his soul upon his sleeve. It was involuntary, done in moments of weakness, and he wished that he could be as unchanging as his brother.

“What is there to jest about?” Perplexed, you idly gathered a fistful of your skirts, relinquishing some of your nervousness. “If we are to become husband and wife, I would like for us to know one another — to compliment, to appreciate.”

Saintly — Gods, you were vexing, to say the least.

With a sardonic huff, Aegon settled, abandoning the brief aura of indifference for something more sincere. You were genuine, he knew this — did he not owe you the same sentiment?

He stayed silent, swallowing the sudden lump within his throat before appraising you, Dornish Red beginning to muddy his senses. Aegon did not stop what lascivious thoughts escaped his mouth, then and there.

“You are every bit as beautiful as they say,” Aegon uttered, pale brows furrowing together. “I suppose if I am to wed a stranger, let it be an enchanting one.” His lips quirked into the ghost of a smile as he took yet another swig — the bottle was nearly empty.

Warmth danced along your spine, like a crackle of heat that blossomed across your body in fiery tendrils. Fidgeting, you happened to peer toward the bottle of wine. “You flatter me, Aegon,” You cleared your throat. “Is that wise?”

His derisive snort was a bemused one as he held the bottle aloft, dismissing your concern. “I promised myself that this would be my last night of overindulgence,” Aegon sighed. “No matter the consequences.”

If his Mother or grandsire knew of his drinking, particularly in front of his betrothed, he would likely be scolded for such foolish behavior. Perhaps he would regret it later, but you did not seem to admonish him for it.

“Are you certain that you will be well enough to return to your quarters?” Concern permeated your soft tone as you stood near the archway of the terrace, head canting to one side.

“Do not trouble yourself, betrothed. I have spent many nights in this garden, alone.” Aegon sounded sullen, as if it weren’t his design. Sometimes, drinking and isolating were the only things that numbed whatever else he felt.

Tears swam within his eyes — his anguish and turmoil often reared its ugly head when he had too much to drink. It was easier to commiserate over his life, his obstacles in solitude.

He loathed sobbing — it made him feel weak and insignificant, as if he could not keep himself pieced together. Aegon watched you closely, realizing that your countenance held nothing but a tender concern and twinge of affection.

No pity, no rage, no spite.

“Of course,” You exhaled, assuming that you should leave him to his own devices. “I should be returning. I … I do look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Aegon. I pray to the Seven that our union will be a fruitful one.”

Before you could step away, Aegon called out to you, beseeching you to wait as he stumbled to his feet, gripping the bottle like a vice. He didn’t know what to say — his mind swam, shrouded in a thick haze of bottled emotion and intoxication.

“Do you think that you could grow to love me, with time?”

Aegon’s fragmented inquiry brought a sharp and sudden sting to your heart, as if he believed himself incapable of being loved. His lilac hues reflected an untold battlefield of turbulent feelings that had been buried and smothered for such a long time.

If you were being truthful with yourself, you could see love forming with time — it would be long and arduous, but it was in your mind’s eye. Had you not experienced this chance encounter, you might’ve felt otherwise.

“I do,” A smile like rays of sunshine, parting the lingering dark that had shadowed his heart. Your answer came to him like the hum of springtime, softly-spoken. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

He let himself sob to the stars, to any Gods that would listen once you were out of sight.

When you saw Aegon again, it was beneath glistening pools of colored glass, perched atop a rather unimpressive terrace in the Grand Sept. He appeared every bit as gallant as you imagined him to be, cloaked in a cowl of velvety-emerald, embossed in threads of burnished gold.

He had such a disheveled, uncouth look about him in the Gardens — now, he seemed renewed. His pale tresses shimmering with a silvery sheen, cleansed and steeped in oils, countenance less haggard, lilac hues seeking yours.

The audience that had gathered to witness your union was much larger than you expected, many of them lesser nobility of King’s Landing flocking to see the new bride of Prince Aegon II.

You were the very image of perfection last evening, in the Gardens — shrouded in hues of cerulean and gold, bearing rose-patterned embellishments upon your gown. Now, you appeared as a goddess, wedding gown the color of liquid gold, touched by rays of a waning sun.

Aegon had taken your words into consideration — he did not want to make this miserable for you, or for himself.

A threadbare smile crossed his countenance, thin yet genuine as he gazed upon you, rapturously drinking in your appearance. Beauty might’ve been your true identity, a most gorgeous creature, sculpted by merciful gods.

As you assumed your place by his side, Aegon noticed the anxious smile that had graced your features. You seemed a touch nervous, but did not allow the sentiment to overshadow this moment.

His hand found yours, giving it a brief squeeze as the Septon prepared the vows of marriage. A union between House Tyrell and House Targaryen spelled great things, in the eyes of powerful men who operated from the shadows.

House Tyrell had sworn bountiful supplies of food and some of the finest armor in Westeros, whilst House Targaryen offered builders, riches — a chance for you to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Emerald velvet enveloped you, bearing the draconic sigil of House Targaryen. Aegon was disarmingly gentle, fastening the gilded clasps around you. As much as he wanted to stave off his own nerves, it was incredibly difficult for him to do so.

The ceremony, in the sight of Gods and Men, floated by swifter than you expected it to. Once you and Aegon had exchanged vows, hands bound together in crimson ribbon, it was his turn to end the formalities.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

Aegon felt heat ripple throughout his chest at such words, heart hammering against his ribcage as he searched your eyes for any ounce of uncertainty. When he found none at all, his palm moved to cradle your cheek, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

The taste of your mouth was honeyed, ambrosial as it made his head turn. He was bewildered to find your gentle reciprocation, the kiss being returned, even if it were fleeting. Aegon did not register the applause that came afterwards, drowning within your presence.

As you withdrew, Aegon appeared akin to a doe caught within the hunter’s snare, wide-eyed and clawing for composure. You seemed genuinely pleased, offering him a fleeting smile that made his heart leap out of his chest.

The transition into the wedding feast was seamless, and fortunately, it was easier to become lost within the general splendor of it all. Much of it was spent gorging yourself on such a lavish meal, and some of it spent speaking to your new husband.

You sat beside Aegon, King Viserys and Queen Alicent to his side, and your own parents on yours. The ailing King did not seem at all well enough to be in attendance, yet he endured it anyway, hunched over within his chair.

Admittedly, Aegon was somewhat nervous — and that wasn’t commonplace.

He feared inadequacy when it came to intimacy and consummating your union, an inability to satisfy you. Most of his exploits were spent in brothels, and of those trysts, he consumed too much wine to be considered useful to anyone.

It was all so self-centered when he lay with whores in the brothel, and even then, he could not remember most encounters. Expected to perform in a marriage and to a woman as lovely as you filled him with an unexpected dread.

Without consuming a drop this evening, he wondered how he would fare with a sound mind and body — poorly, he imagined. He knew of pleasure, of what it all entailed, but then came pleasing you. What if you hated it? Hated him?

The more he contemplated, the more frustrated he became, and in-turn, made him itch for something to calm his nerves. It was then that he felt your hand against his forearm, gentle and comforting, a smile upon your face.

“Would you like to dance?” A talented dancer you were, but without a partner, your skills seemed all for naught. Aegon’s pause made you wonder if your question was misplaced, but he steeled himself and nodded.

“I fear you’ve chosen a poor partner,” Aegon murmured, hovering beside you as the both of you took to the floor. Waves of people parted like the sea to usher in the newlyweds, and the new princess. “I am not fleet of foot.”

“You do not have to be.” You assured, the melody transforming into a slow ballad, allowing for a more intimate dance. With bound hands and his arm around your waist, he began to move, albeit with uncertainty.

As he twirled you around across the floor, the idle hum of the festivities swirled around you. You paid little mind to it, searching Aegon’s countenance for any sign of disdain. Instead, you found a hint of anxiousness in his lilac hues.

There was something that gnawed away at his heart — you could tell through gaze alone. As you danced, Aegon kept his stare locked on you, something to focus on. “You look beautiful.” That much was true.

Fortunate to have a bride as resplendent as yourself, Aegon marveled at the sight of you, the very image of beauty. Your comely visage seemed so perfect when compared to your wedding gown, his cloak still tied around your shoulders.

Touched by his softspoken praise, you bowed your head, nimbly weaving closer to him as a dancing couple passed by. Aegon was noticeably stiff in his movements, swallowing his nervousness, attempting to appear unphased.

“You seem tense,” Your voice was little more than a whisper, ensnaring his attention. His gaze flickered between the hum of the audience in-attendance and you, mustering up a threadbare smile. “Are you well?”

The genuineness of your inquiry could not be mistaken, and Aegon seemed bewildered that anyone would truly ask about his wellbeing. “I am,” He reassured, chest-to-chest with you. “This all seems rather frivolous.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t the root of the matter, but he wanted to placate you. Aegon bit his tongue from confessing the truth, a truth that he did not want to utter here, with wandering ears.

“The festivities? I would agree,” You replied, knowing that the expenses of such an event were rather much. “I am only here for you.” Aegon happened to smile at that, one far more genuine than the last.

Before he could speak, he noticed his Mother escorting the King towards the floor, whose gait was strained and incredibly sluggish. He leaned upon his cane, wheezing with every step, coming to a halt in front of the both of you.

“King Viserys wishes to extend his blessing to the both of you, and hopes for a happy union.” Alicent seemed a world away, treating you to a smile that was devoid of joy, merely a courtesy. “We must take our leave.”

“Thank you, your Grace. I hope to be a good wife to Prince Aegon.” You would never forget your manners, curtsying before the both of them. Alicent made no comment, simply bowing her head before guiding Viserys away.

Aegon appeared somewhat downtrodden with the leaving of his parents, and not entirely surprised. He seemed to quietly accept their leave, thanking his parents before they made their way through the now-parted crowds. Criston Cole nipped at their heels, following closely behind the King and Queen.

It was as if the buzz of excitement began to dissipate with the absence of the King, but you did not seem to be bothered by it. You wanted to make the most of it with Aegon.

With the absence of the King and Queen, the celebration seemed to dim — not that Aegon cared. He was more inclined to retire and get the consummation over with, as to not make a complete fool of himself.

Nervousness gnawed at his gut, and that irritated him. He shouldn’t have been so high strung about something so trivial. The physical aspect of marriage was often to perform a duty, and not anything more enjoyable than that.

Yet, Aegon found himself wanting to ascend duty.

Seven Hells, he was in for a long evening. His constant agonizing over how to approach this with you was going to eat him alive. It continued to fester within his bones throughout the duration of the night, up until you made it to your marital chambers.

Your shared quarters were beautiful — gilded in gold, draped in tapestries of emerald. They were far more grandeur and spacious than your own room back in Highgarden.

“If there is something not to your liking, I shall have the servants alter it.” Aegon murmured, attempting to quell his nerves. He could not recall the last time he had been so frayed, so fraught with anxiousness.

There was no wine to dull his senses, and so he was left with the rawness of his own sentiments, opting to sit beside the hearth.

The scenery was not nearly as perplexing as your new husband, who seemed more focused on gazing into the fire instead of consummating your union. You were told that it was duty — for a man to put a babe in you and be finished.

“Aegon,” Concerned, you rounded the chaise lounge, moving to sit beside him. Admittedly, this whole scenario seemed to confuse you more than anything else. “Is something the matter?”

Gods help him — Aegon did not know where to begin. It was best to tell you of his past experiences, inform you that his virtue was tarnished, that he was deplorable, and admit that lying with you would wrack him with immense guilt.

Perhaps, it was best to confess that he was nervous, more than you, and elect not to consummate at all. If his Mother or Grandsire found out about his lack of performance, he would be forced into putting a babe in you.

A bitter laugh escaped him as he attempted to control his sudden bout of frustration. “I cannot do this,” He murmured, shaking his head back and forth. “You don’t deserve this.”

With furrowed brows, you sought elaboration, hands twisting themselves together to relinquish your anxiousness. “Don’t deserve what? I do not understand.” You uttered, fearing that it was you who had slighted him.

“I have committed countless sins — it isn’t fair to you, to consummate when I have already tarnished myself so deeply,” Aegon sighed, pressing a hand to his face. “Yet duty demands that I must.”

There was a palpable nervousness within his voice, and it seemed to mirror your own. You feared disappointing him, but his sentiments were shared, much to your bewilderment. “I do not care what you did before this,” You replied. “We are married now. What matters is the path we take from now on.”

Damn you — so virtuous, so saintly that it made him look like some uncouth fiend compared to you. Of course you would be understanding, as you had been all along. Aegon hoped that you would be angry; it would make this so much easier.

It was a valiant attempt to mask his own nerves, which became glaringly obvious as moments ticked by. “I am nervous, admittedly, but … I know that I simply lay down and let you finish.”

Aegon’s brows creased together, and he realized that you did not expect much from him at all. You didn’t know what it all could entail, the art of pleasure. He never bothered to fully explore it himself, with his whoremongering and blatant self-interest.

Swallowing the growing lump within his throat, he attempted to set his worries aside, hands fisting at his trousers to relieve his nerves. “That is not what it has to be,” He murmured, glancing at you with wide, lilac hues. “Unless you want it that way.”

Intrigued, you seemed desperate to know what all the physical side of a marriage entailed. Aegon seemed anxious, but he wanted to try and treat you well, explore a new realm of pleasure together.

Silently, you reached for his hand, prompting him to shiver at the contact of your soft flesh and warm digits. “I do not.” Your gentle utterance set his heart ablaze, stomach swirling with a foreign giddiness as he regained his composure.

Aegon exhaled, mauve hues wandering towards the delicate curve of your mouth, the slender plane of your throat. He let himself become lascivious with his thoughts — Gods, you were so beautiful that it nearly pained him to look at you.

“You are too good for me,” Aegon mumbled, his self-deprecation laid bare for you to witness. He seemed so solemn in his words — and you did not believe him. “I do not deserve you.” Before he could speak again, you silenced him.

With your fingers pressed firmly to his mouth, brows furrowed together, you ensured that he listened to you without interruption. “Stop,” You urged, shaking your head. “Whatever occurred before our union, during it, it is in the past. This is the present — you deserve me.”

He wished that he could believe you — it was difficult for those words to fully sink in, for him to take it all to-heart. Those lilac hues swam with melancholy, yet he attempted to wipe it all away for your sake.

Instead, you moved to bring him into your embrace, hugging him close to relieve whatever anguish he felt. To your surprise, he held onto you, burying his face against your collarbone, arms settling against your hips.

Admittedly, he felt pathetic — all of this agony and frustration pouring out on his wedding night, and you were comforting him. It mattered a great deal to him, your simple act of listening and ensuring his wellbeing.

A gust of your scent hit his nostrils, a floral concoction that balanced upon the edge of sweetness and something alluring. Aegon steeled himself and decided to cease his bout of guilt and try to be a proper husband and lover to you.

“Seven Hells.” Aegon hissed, brows screwing together in a look of inner disdain. He was often several flagons deep whenever this ordeal took place — there was nothing to ease his nerves.

“Aegon …” Before you could ask what troubled him so, he silenced you with a singular glance, lilac hues swimming with unshed tears. Frustration seeped into his gestures, a coiled repression of a rooted inner loathing that threatened to consume him.

“I have not — Fuck,” With a mumble of annoyance, he steeled himself, knowing that the truth of the matter might make you disgusted by him. “I have not had a clear mind, laying with a woman.” Admitting to his nervousness made his stomach turn with dread.

Overindulgence was his cardinal sin, and yet he hadn’t had a drop of wine at all this evening. His confession gave you pause, enough to contemplate, consider the weight of the truth. “Would this be the first time?” Your tender utterance lacked any initial shrewdness.

Aegon simply nodded, palms still clutching onto you, able to feel the pliant curvature of your body beneath your wedding gown. His closeness made your breath hitch, lilac hues boring into your own, drinking you in. “You are divine.” He murmured.

To see you without the haze of intoxication — there was nothing more perfect. Swallowing the growing lump within his throat, Aegon felt your hand drift across his shoulder, through velvet and silk, until you reached his jaw.

It was disarmingly gentle, the unexpected grace of your fingertips as they stroked across his cheek. His lips parted slightly, enough for a brief huff of surprise to escape him. Absentmindedly, he found himself careening into your embrace, seeking the warmth of your palm.

Lilac hues ogled your mouth, until he could bear it no longer. Aegon planted a gentle kiss against your lips, feeling your body tense beneath his hands, the gesture fleeting. A wisp of a whine bubbled within your throat, falling from your mouth.

Abandoning such rigidity, your body sluggishly relaxed into his hold, tension unfurling from your shoulders. A wave of repression seemed coiled within your kiss, as if you were holding the dam aloft, refusing to let it shatter.

Yet, such desperation oozing from you mirrored his own, one that he thought he’d buried. Roused from dormancy, Aegon’s flame of desire began to smolder as he coaxed you closer, tormented by the sweetness of your kiss.

Eager digits flexed against your hips, index finger circling over the divot there, aching to see you bare, unobstructed. He savored your taste, like that of piety, something saccharine, now transformed into a ceaseless craving.

He could not recall the last time he had wanted; this incessant ache had now warped into some amalgamation of desire and despair, yearning to touch you, worship you. Aegon had never felt the urge to covet something — not until his gaze had found you.

With another barrage of fervent kisses, the pale-headed prince retreated, the distance slim as he looked upon your doe-eyed countenance. “I wish to see you,” His utterance had adopted a lascivious edge, lilac hues burning with need. “Please.”

Joined hands fluttered to the many ties of your gown, seeking to free you from your cage of immeasurable fabric. It was you who had subtly allowed one palm to fly toward his own doublet, evening the score.

Aegon did not protest, even if he wanted to. As you shed your wedding gown, letting it peel away from you, draped over the lounge, he felt his heart hammer within his chest. He felt like some deplorable lecher, entirely undeserving of you, but he did not want to ruin this with his insecurities.

Through your tantalizingly-thin shift, the Targaryen Prince allowed his gaze to rake over you, covetous and aching. “Fuck.” Aegon mumbled, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, unable to tear his hands from you. They squeezed at your hips, lingering over your backside.

Adjusting his position, he moved to coax you into his lap, noticing your sheepish disposition. This was all unfamiliar territory for you, one that he desired to handle with care, as if rectifying his past blunders. It would never be enough, never repairing what damage he’d done, but it was a start.

Neediness had driven you closer, slotting yourself into his lap as he greedily cupped your backside, kneading into the pliant flesh. Aegon kissed you once more, a low groan tearing past his throat, echoing within your maw.

Kisses devolved from shy and exploratory to innately wanton, your own need bleeding through as you tilted your head slightly, deepening your entanglement. The pad of his thumb traced circles into your thigh, savoring the soft flesh beneath.

A prodding of his tongue to your kiss-swollen lips sent a shiver of delight through you, mouth parting to make way for his greedy maw. Lips clashed, collided, and meshed again — arousal surged within you, thick between your thighs.

The fabric that clung to your form even still left little to the imagination, hips writhing into his own, creating a delicious friction between you both. Proof of his desire was laid bare, straining against the front of his trousers as you pressed closer.

Beneath the rich, emerald velvet of his doublet, Aegon’s tunic sagged against his poorly-defined musculature, the hue of sage. It was your insistence and clamoring hands that had spurred him to shed it all, fabric pooling alongside your gown.

“Aegon,” A rapturous sigh tumbled from your parted lips, mouth stilling against his own as you sought to touch him, hands trailing through his pale tresses. Oozing warmth coalesced between your thighs as Aegon planted a kiss to your throat. “Please.”

As one palm continued to grope at the swell of your backside, the other coursed over your collarbone, downward still until he cupped your breast. Mouths continued to connect in heated kisses, a low groan erupting from his throat.

Fire’s crackling glow blanketed him in pooling orange, illuminating his ethereal features. Each touch evoked a deep-seated repression from you, desiring as much as he was willing to give you.

Another satisfied hum escaped him as you carded your fingers through his hair, hips lurching forward. Absentmindedly, your hips continued to urge against his, eliciting a breathy sigh from Aegon. He sounded so pleased, continuing to palm at your breast.

One of your hands clamored to relocate, smoothing across his chest, and then towards his abdomen. Gooseflesh followed in the wake of your incendiary touch, like that of a blazing fire, turning him to ash. Fingertips then found the ties of his trousers, earning you a look of surprise.

He feared that if you touched him, he would’ve combusted then and there — and that was no way to end one’s wedding night. Instead, he redirected you, savoring the sensation of your silky hand snug against his chest. His kiss made your head spin.

Bodies continue to glide together, friction crackling where space becomes increasingly nonexistent. Flesh meets flesh, a seamless mold that prompts you to shiver, mouth a roaring flame as you continue your barrage of kisses.

The cool metal of his ring felt like some pleasant brand against your flesh as he kneaded your breast, thumb circling around your peaked nipple. A delighted noise leaves you then, akin to the sweet lull of a siren’s song, drawing him in.

As your hips rocked against his own, Aegon fought against his own baser instincts, the swell of his cock brushing languidly against your core. A sharp inhale ripped through his lungs, hands groping you, kneading into your flesh, caressing wherever he could as he held you close.

His mouth had dropped to your neck, showering your velvety flesh in strings of passionate kisses. There was no intoxication finer than you, whose heady, saccharine scent beguiled him without a care, more tempting than ever.

Aegon continued to greedily toy with your breasts, savoring their weight, the way they melded into his palms. Eager digits lightly pinched at your nipple; each moan that left you was akin to a lullaby, dizzying his senses.

“Gods, stop squirming.” Aegon huffed, lilt lacking any bite to it. It emerged as a partial groan, attempting to spare himself from embarrassment on his wedding night. He deposited you onto the plush cushions of the settee, gentle as ever.

Warm and clouded with a desirous haze, you watched in wordless rapture as your husband clamored down, moving to kneel in between your legs. Amethyst hues glittered with adoration, peering up at you as he smoothed his palms along your thighs.

“I am sorry,” Fearing you’d done something wrong, he soothed you with a string of kisses to your leg, pressed upon the inside of your knee. Pale tresses swept across your velvety skin, and he marveled at the sight of you, beauteous beyond comprehension. “Aegon, I ...”

“Do not apologize.” A brief shiver rolled down his spine as your palms cupped his face, cradling his visage within your hands as you stooped down for a searing kiss. He felt like some starving animal, moving upwards to reciprocate your kiss, desperate for any scrap of affection.

Unblemished hands began to push at the fabric that clung to you still, allowing it to unceremoniously pool around your hips. A moan rippled through you, slick nethers exposed to your new husband, embarrassment beginning to settle into your bones.

Before you could make some valiant attempt to shield yourself from him, Aegon refuted you with a light push of his shoulders. His countenance sparkled with a growing ardor, mauve hues boring into you as he shook his head.

“Please, do not deny me this,” It was a strained plea, the Prince begging for you to oblige him, slotted between your legs as if he belonged there. “I wish to taste you.” His confession felt hot, uttered from greedy lips.

Completely and utterly besotted with you, and you with him, you sluggishly began to allow your legs to part, kissing him once more. As your slender digits twined against his crown, he nearly groaned, savoring the pliant pillars of your mouth as he reluctantly withdrew.

His countenance seemed so docile, subservient — amethyst hues glittered with a budding attachment, lips parted as he rested his head against your thigh. Inhaling a gust of your scent, he began to press kisses to your leg, hands kneading against your haunches, reveling in all of you.

Pleasure was not a foreign concept to you, but the act itself was. Exhilaration stung your flesh, prickling away within the pit of your belly as he kissed along your thigh, each ministration wrought with rapture.

Aegon had come to spill his sins, let them vanish between your legs. “Beautiful.” He exhaled, kissing his way toward the rousing heat nestled against the apex of your legs. It was as if he were drunk upon you, intoxicated by your very essence.

The constant preening of your fingertips throughout his tresses set him ablaze, a soothing sensation that nearly subdued him. As he kissed his way to your nethers, he was delighted to find you warm already, slick glistening upon your petals. It gave him some twinge of confidence — he did not disgust you, at least.

“Aegon,” A shrewd whimper bubbled from your throat, hand sinking to cradle the base of his skull. It was as if your body already knew, hips attempting to lurch forward. Hot breath fanned over your core, prompting you to writhe beneath him. “Gods, please.” A sigh of passion left you.

“What a pleasant surprise.” Aegon crooned, stoking the fervent flame that churned within your belly. Ringed palms gleefully cupped your thighs, chilled metal of his signets pressing into your flesh as he kept your legs parted.

Dragging one finger through your petals, he watched in awe as you shivered. Gods, you were wet — admittedly, he hadn’t wholly expected for you to be this way. As you urged him closer, diaphragm erupting with sputtered whines and wrought with desperation, he indulged you.

A greedy tongue raked hot embers over your slit, groaning at the ambrosial taste that clung to you, a finer stout than many. Straining against the front of his trousers, his cock throbbed with an incessant ache, longing to be inside of you.

Aegon lacked tact, lapping at your cunt with messy, eager strokes that had made your back arch. One could not mistake it for anything other than enthusiasm intermingled with covetousness, digits smoothing themselves over your inner thighs.

A shrewd whine erupted from your throat, a noise that had sounded so foreign from your tongue. The Prince’s pale crown had become your anchor, fingers idly perusing throughout oil-mussed strands, tugging and pulling as you pleased.

“A—Aegon!” A squeak of surprise tore past your lips, the foreign sensation of pleasure spreading through you like wildfire. Gods, he reveled in your noises — he wished to hear them again and again, if he could.

Ring-adorned digits clamped down into your thigh, the other snaking toward your hips, caressing circles into your supple flesh. His mouth was like that of fire, kissing his way along your nethers, tongue teasingly prodding against your entrance. It was more than enough to make you squirm.

The coil of taut heat within your stomach seems to tighten as Aegon greedily lapped at your cunt, like that of a man starved. A sharp groan blossoms throughout his sternum as you incessantly tug upon his pale locks, urging him closer.

Aegon’s ministrations lack practice and grace, an amalgamation of want intermingled with greed, his desire to have you. Nevertheless, his sloppiness is welcomed, thighs involuntarily squeezing around his head, and he moves closer still.

It is then that he seeks the pearl of your cunt, pressing a string of wanton kisses to the sensitive clutch of nerves. A shiver of delight grips your spine, throat erupting with a moan as your back begins to arch.

With a devious lash of his tongue, he openly laps at your pearl, drunk upon the taste of you, far more intoxicating than that of any wine. Aegon’s fingers tense against your thighs, quietly marveling at your softness, plush and pliant within his hold.

Hips surge forward, jolting into the greedy heat of his mouth, and he merely treats you to incessant barrages of his tongue. Admittedly, your enthusiasm in the matter only spurred on his confidence in pleasing you — he did not do this very often.

His name rolls from your mouth like some incantation, tapering off into a string of whines and stifled moans. Molten heat churned violently within the pit of your stomach, volatile and oozing, coalescing between your thighs.

“Aegon!” A breathy plea tumbles from your lips, body begging for more, for whatever he is willing to give you. His ministrations change from gently suckling upon your pearl to broad, tactless laps of his tongue, with little variation.

Aegon’s lips glistened with a sticky sheen of your nectar, of a finer stout than many, more delectable than any wine that had befallen his mouth. You were quickly ascending towards your release, body pulled taut, preparing to snap in the wake of such devastating pleasure.

His cock throbbed with an incessant, desperate ache, precum slick around the head as it strained against his trousers. Your own satisfaction spurred him on, and your delightful noises only sent him spiraling into the depths of further depravity.

It doesn’t take much more for you to unravel, bursting at the seams as your new husband brings about your first release. It is blinding, the white-hot throes of ecstasy that sends you crashing into a blissful afterglow.

You do not recall how many times you cry for him, sob his name, but Aegon commits it all to memory. The Prince’s stomach surges with a volatile heat, nearly groaning in response to your pinnacle.

A heaving sigh jostles him, inhaling gusts of your saccharine scent, catching his own breath as he presses continuous kisses over your thigh. His cheek happens to rest against your leg, and as you begin to come down, the sight of him is enough to reignite the flame once more.

Amethyst hues seem to sparkle with triumph and elation, flickering towards you, glittering lips twitching into a lopsided smile. Aegon felt happy — he could not recall the last time he’d felt true joy, uninhibited by wine.

“That was …” Truthfully, you do not know how to describe it, but your reaction is more than enough to please the Targaryen prince. Your fingers continue to rake through his pale tresses, dancing over his crown before cupping his face. “Wonderful.”

“I am not finished yet,” Aegon uttered, slithering from between your legs to capture your mouth with his, able to taste yourself. A whine of delight escapes your lips and he revels in it, mouths entangling in a heated kiss. “I need you.”

It isn’t an easy thing to admit to, needing someone — and yet he does, and it feels unusually effortless. The weight of his words takes root within you, head bobbing up and down in a consensual nod as he seizes you from the settee.

As you clamor for your shared marital bed, he stops at the mattress’s edge, hands tangling against the hem of your shift. Your arms adjust, allowing him to free you from the fabric, which happens to feel too restrictive, too claustrophobic.

Aegon’s visage is buried beside your collarbone, marveling at the sight of you — Gods, he was exceedingly fortunate. Even then, a despondent voice screamed at him, how he did not deserve you in the slightest, and he refused to listen to it.

His mouth became dry, desire swelling within him like the urgent crash of a tidal wave. Aegon’s violet gaze remained transfixed, unable to tear themselves away from you and the perfection of you; all of you.

“A—Are you going to be gentle?” The nervousness of your inquiry is unmistakable, and he is swift to quell such fears, pressing a kiss against your brow. You’ve always been told that consummating was physically painful, such horror instilled within you once you reached womanhood.

“Of course,” Aegon was not a good man — rotten, really. However, he had no desire to treat you with callousness, no desire to manhandle you into subservience. “I would not harm you.” His reassurance seemed a mutual thing, a promise to both himself and you.

With a nod, a tender smile spreads across your face, beguiled by him as you reach for the laces of his trousers. A flicker of surprise settles into his lilac hues, but he doesn’t protest, swallowing the growing lump within his throat.

Hungry and rapturous, Aegon allowed his gaze to roam over you freely, committing every detail of your form to memory — beauty incarnate. He permits you to untie his breeches, the strings loosening altogether.

As leather gives way and he stands bare before you, your features warm at the sight of him, ethereal; incandescent, really. He is more godly than you imagined him to be, vexed by him, by body and by heart.

That is when you feel it, the proof of his arousal pressing into your lower belly, oozing with precum as he slowly ruts his hips into you. A sharp moan blossoms throughout your diaphragm, palms gathering at the nape of his neck as you coax him down for a searing kiss.

A groan rippled through his throat, escaping into twined mouths as you moved against his erection, enough to nearly make him sputter. Aegon’s desperation bleeds into you with a blinding intensity, so poignant and so palpable that it makes your knees buckle.

Before you can protest his recoil, Aegon moves with you onto the sheets, a clamor of eager limbs, and your belly surges with butterflies. You know not to be fearful, but you cannot help it, expecting him to crawl atop you and make it easy.

Bewilderment settles into your features when he does the opposite, coaxing you into his lap with such enthusiasm, such neediness. Mauve hues were blown-out with lust and exaltation, enthralled by you as he felt you settle down against him, thighs firmly caging him in on either side.

The game of waiting was an agonizing one, as he longed to be inside of you, let you feel him with renewed vigor, drown himself within your growing affections. Aegon groaned when your lips met his, connecting with a thinly-veiled ardor, passionate yet tender.

Wandering hands smooth themselves over the swell of your hips, clutching at the pliant flesh, his erection pressing against your thigh. A sharp inhale passes through him as you gently adjust yourself, comfortable atop him — you rather enjoy this, you think.

Desire made him dizzy, head beginning to spin in a delirium, induced by the growing haze of ardor. He couldn’t recall the last time he laid with a woman and truly enjoyed it — yet, he enjoyed this, reveled in it all, craved you as one would gusts of fresh air.

“I need you,” The felicity dancing within your wanton plea makes him want to sob, and he knows that he needs you just as terribly. His cock twitched, the flushed head proclaiming his own want without the use of words. “I beg of you, Aegon.”

“Fuck,” Aegon groans; your nethers clench pathetically around nothing at all. Eagerness seeps into each caress of his hands, every touch, every sigh of passion. “Sit, I — I need you terribly.” His pleas made your bones ache, stomach churning with a flame that demanded to be extinguished.

At your mercy, he slumped back against the golden pillows, countenance echoing such unrestrained yearning, guiding his aching cock to your glistening cunt. He steeled himself, watching in a tremulous rapture as you adjusted yourself, slowly sinking yourself onto his length.

A cacophony of whines escaped you, the sudden intrusion somewhat painful, but nothing agonizing — not how it was made to appear. His grasp steadied upon your hips, digits kneading into your flesh as you continued to rock downwards.

It was a sluggish start, agonizingly so, bodies finding moments to adjust to one another, grow accustomed. The way in which you milked him, moved agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel your cunt tighten around him — it was nearly overwhelming.

“Ae—Aegon,” With a blubbering moan, your palms fell atop his chest, splayed over pale flesh as you awkwardly began to ease yourself up into an erratic rhythm. You did not know how to move, but he seemed to revel in it, mouth erupting with groans aplenty. “Gods.”

Such sensations seemed to overwhelm you, a blissful ecstasy seeping into your bones, belly sloshing with excitement. You did not go quickly at all, each movement slow and punctuated, thighs stinging from the first inklings of exertion.

Beneath you, Aegon gazed at you as if you were some goddess, amethyst hues shimmering with a thinly-veiled ardor. His heart hammered within his chest, breath catching as one hand slithered downward, groping at your derrière.

Neither of you would last long in this state — him, in particular. He was dizzy, rendered stupefied by such wanton desire, his cock throbbing inside of you with an incessant need. Precum continued to ooze forth, spilling inside of you.

Aegon watched you carefully, completely and utterly mesmerized, beguiled as he began to guide your movements. It all instilled a fire within you, raging as it seared your nerves, set all of you ablaze as his cock kissed your walls with a gentle fervor.

The full, lovely swell of your breasts bounced gently atop your chest as you continued your ministrations, repeating the monotonous motion of rocking along his cock. Your stomach sloshed with molten heat, and it quickly spread to your loins like wildfire.

A breathy groan of ‘fuck’ emerged from Aegon’s mouth, countenance contorted into a look of complete and utter ecstasy. “Gods, do not stop, I beg you,” Aegon commanded through wanton groans, hips desperately rutting up inside of you. “Please.” He pleaded.

Ceaseless, you carried on, thighs burning as you rode him as you would a broken gelding, palm sliding toward his face. Wordlessly, you coaxed him in for a blistering kiss, prompting him to sit up from his partial slouch, mouths connecting in a frenzied flurry of bliss.

Aegon’s hips continued to jolt forward, cock burying itself deep within you, a sword sheathed within its scabbard. Moans emerged from you in myriads, hands suddenly clamoring for the nape of his neck, fingers twisting themselves into his silvery tresses.

Between kisses of tactless passion, his mouth withdrew, only to sloppily pepper themselves along your jaw before settling against your throat. The very image of grace, tarnished with lust; a maiden worth worshiping.

The coil of heat that had remained furled within Aegon began to rapidly pull apart, his pleasure one of such dizzying ecstasy. Hips clashed together, the friction a delicious sensation as a shiver iced your spine, and then his.

“Aegon!” A fever that you couldn’t sweat out, you rode him ceaselessly, ministrations a touch erratic, yet you maintained a steady pace. A whimper of ardor bubbled from your lips as you became invigorated, rocking yourself up and down along his cock, aided by his grasp upon your hips.

Drowning within ecstasy, Aegon knew that he could not cling to restraint any longer, cock throbbing with a persistent ache. His digits gripped you tightly, a choked groan emerging into the hollow between your throat and shoulder.

The lewd, crass union of flesh against flesh joined the ambiance, his hips continuing to buck up into you intermittently. You clung to him as if you were drowning, his lips ravishing your flesh whenever he had a moment to breathe, cock nearly kissing your cervix.

It only took one more roll of your hips for him to fall apart completely, in shambles beneath you, hot ropes of virile seed filling your womb with a wild desperation. The rush of warmth soon flooded your insides, his spend sticky against your nethers.

Aegon saw stars from the intensity of his release, nearly collapsing in the aftermath of it all. Perspiration glistened along his spine, bones nearly turning to molten liquid as you continued to ride him for a few moments more.

Foreheads pressed together, lips soon finding one another, disarmingly gentle as he allowed one palm to cup your cheek. His thumb danced over your jaw, the gesture unusually sweet as your hips began to slow to a mere crawl.

Sheepish, you began to withdraw, a soft moan leaving you as you maneuvered yourself from his lap, a rush of sticky warmth coating your inner thighs. You crawled from bed, dancing over discarded clothing as you sought out something to wear.

Aegon lazily rolled to lay down, amethyst hues trained upon the gilded canopy above, running a hand over his face. He hadn’t expected to come undone as he had, but it was perfect — he hadn’t felt like that in some time.

His gaze soon found you, softening at the sight of you bundled up within his sage tunic, the silk brushing against the top of your thighs. Lust gnawed at his bones, seeing you like that — it only made him covet you in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

“Seven Hells,” Aegon mumbled, tongue darting to wet his lower lip as you slunk forward, his stare half-lidded as he shamelessly admired you. “Must I take you again, looking like that?” He murmured, noticing the way you became smitten so very quickly.

“Should I remove it?” Afraid that you had misstepped, you nearly reached for your shift until he shook his head, waving you over. Your features burned, pleasantly warm as you crawled back into bed with him, curling into his side.

“I would often say yes,” His voice was remarkably smooth, lacking the initial torment and despair from before, instilled with a subdued joy. “Not this time. Come here.” Inviting you to lay with him, you turned, chin perched against his shoulder.

His hand circled around you, fingers trailing along your spine as he drew the sheets around you both, reveling in the feeling of your form pressed to his. In the blissful afterglow, you remained quiet for a moment, palm placed atop his chest.

A lump formed within his throat as he contemplated this, being with you — he had not felt so at-ease in what seemed like forever. You had made him feel so comfortable, vulnerable in a way that he both craved and detested, but perhaps it was for the best.

Perhaps, you would draw out the best in him, allow him to atone for past mistakes, even if he felt like it was all too late. Firelight danced throughout your chambers, beginning to wane as embers replaced roaring flames, the room ambient with even breaths and steady hearts.

“Aegon?”

As your sweet cadence cut through his lament, he looked to you, head cocking to one side. “Hm?” Admittedly, he could fall asleep now if it weren’t for your presence, mauve hues absorbing the beauty of your smiling countenance.

People rarely afforded him a smile, let alone the doting look you gave him — and he melted, collapsed within the tenderness of it all. Again, he swallowed, attempting to force the swell of emotion down his throat.

“I think we will be happy together, you and I.” He knew you meant it — knew your sincerity, genuineness spilling from each syllable. You weren’t expecting him to answer, allowing your head to rest neatly against his chest, and he held you closer.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, true happiness had tugged at his heart.

[fantasydreamland]

Fun Wife

aegon targaryen x fem lannister reader

Summary: (For the sake of the story Aegon never married Helena) You’re betrothed to the new king who is not too pleased about it. He assumes you’ll turn your nose up at the way he behaves and having a wife will just be a nuisance. He quickly discovers how beautiful and fun his new wife is.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smuttt, loss of virginity, p in v, public x, getting caught, fingering, oral (f&m), masturbation (m), some fluff, spoilers maybe.

Word count: 4.3k

This is the smuttiest story I’ve written so enjoy lol

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“I do not wish to marry.” Aegon says firmly.

The small council meeting had dragged on and everyone, especially his mother, had been pushing for him to marry as soon as possible. Amongst themselves they decided on a bride as if he weren’t even there. He was the king and he should be able to choose when and whom he marries. He did not want to marry some Lannister girl he had never met. And he certainly did not want to marry so soon.

“She is an excellent match Aegon. You must marry.” Alicent insists.

“This is the best way to solidify our relationship with the Lannisters.” Another said.

“I am the king.” Aegon said stomping his foot like a child. “If I do not want to marry right now I should not have to.”

“Yes, Aegon. You are the king.” Alicent says in a calm tone. “And that is why you must marry. You need to produce strong heirs as soon as possible.”

Aegon lets out an obnoxiously loud sigh. He knew his mother was right. He would have to marry but at least he could avoid his wife if he wanted to and just visit her chambers occasionally to try for an heir. He loathed the idea of it all.

**********

A couple weeks later you arrive to kings landing. You were filled with excitement of your wedding, of becoming queen of the seven kingdoms. You had been warned by multiple people of Aegons depravities but it did not phase you. If anything, it made him more intriguing.

Aegon watches from a window waiting for your arrival. He did not want to greet you right away but wanted to see what you looked like. His breath catches when he sees you exit your carriage with your bright blonde hair and beaming smile. He was caught completely off guard. He had obviously hoped you would be attractive, but he never expected you to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

As gorgeous as you were he was still annoyed with concern that you would be uptight and judge him. He did not expect a happy marriage but he could not help but picture the beautiful bright haired children you would make together.

**********

You finally meet at dinner. Aegon could no longer avoid you. He stood from his chair when you entered the room and walked over to greet you.

“Your grace.” You curtsy low. “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, my king.” You smile brightly at him and hold your hand out to him.

You were even more breathtaking up close. He was surprised by how genuinely happy you seemed to meet him. Your (e/c) eyes sparkled brightly at him making him forget to respond until your eyes darted around awkwardly, your hand lingering in the air.

“Forgive me.” He clears his throat. “The pleasure is all mine, lady Lannister.” He smirks as he kisses your hand and holds eye contact. He swears he could see a flicker of fire behind your eyes.

You give a blushing smile as he lets go of your hand. Everyone begins to sit down to dinner. Alicent sat across from you while your father was beside you, and Aegon sitting on your other side at the head of the table. Alicent made most of the conversation, asking you various questions. Aegon watched you as you talked, seemingly intrigued to learn about you, but he never spoke a word or asked any questions. Alicent found it strange that her usually loud mouthed son was being so quiet.

When supper finishes everyone begins to leave to their chambers for the night.

“Aegon?” Alicent begins, “Why don’t you escort lady Lannister to her chambers.”

“Certainly.” Aegon nodded, the idea exciting him.

You simply smile and take Aegons arm as he leads you down the hall in an oddly comfortable silence, neither of you sure what to say. When you reach the door to your chambers he kisses your hand.

“Goodnight, my betrothed.” Aegon smiles.

“Goodnight, your grace.” You smile back as you curtsy. “I know this was perhaps not how you planned to be wed… but I promise to be a good wife to you, my king.”

Your words touch Aegon and the way your eyes connect you both feel an undeniable spark. He says nothing else but smiles and kisses your cheek before he leaves to his own chambers.

Aegon pleasured himself to the thought of you that night. He never expected to be so infatuated with his new bride to be but you were the definition of perfection. Now he could not wait be wed to you and bed you. The thought of what you looked like under that dress pushes him to the edge as he groans out your name.

**********

The day of the wedding quickly came and you were both filled with excitement. Aegon smiled ear to ear during the entire ceremony. Once you pledge your love to one another you seal the marriage with a kiss.

The moment your lips touch you instantly feel transported to another world where you are the only two people that exist. The only thing that matters in this moment is you and him. Your eyes connect in an intense gaze once your lips part. The cheer of the crowd snaps you out of your daze before Aegon leads you to the feast.

The feast was fun and lively as everyone enjoyed the food and drink. Aegon drank his fill of wine but still asked for your hand to the dance floor. Your drunken bodies pressed together as you danced, causing your heart to race.

“Your cheeks are so red.” Aegon says teasingly as he brushes your cheek with his fingers.

“Oh, yes, well… likely all the wine.” You blush, causing your cheeks to darken even more. “The wine and… you.” You say lowly.

Aegon smirks and places his fingers on your chin, turning your head to the side.

“I quite like the sight of you looking flushed, my queen.” He whispers against your ear causing goosebumps on your skin.

“My king…” You breathe, trying to remember you were not alone but in the middle of the dance floor.

“Hm?” Aegon hums against your skin and lightly kisses your neck.

His eyes meet yours and he also comes to remember how many eyes were on the both of you.

“I want to go to bed.” You say quietly.

“Oh, are you tired?” He says with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

“No.” You whisper, looking at him with fire in your eyes.

His smirk returns and he takes your hand before leading you out of the feast. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as he led you down the halls to your shared chambers.

You enter the room filled with nerves as you approach the large canopy bed. Aegon comes up behind you and begins kissing your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He wanted to take his time with you but the wine fueled his desperate desire to have you. He had been with many women but he has never wanted anyone this badly.

He begins unlacing your wedding gown while pressing the occasional kiss to your shoulder. You just stand there, letting him have his way with you. Your breath grows heavy as he gently pulls off your gown and it falls to the floor, leaving you only in your thin shift.

You turn to face Aegon and he slowly scans your figure. His eyes linger at your chest before he meets your eyes, staring at you like you were a glass of the finest wine he was about to drink every last drop of.

Aegon pulls off his wedding clothes until he’s left in just his trousers. He captures your lips again and leads you toward the bed. He moves his lips to your neck as he slowly pulls off your shift, leaving you completely bare for him.

“My king…” You whisper as your fingers lightly pull at the hem of his pants.

“Aegon.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Aegon…” You say shyly as your eyes meet again.

“Not so fast, little one.” He moves your hand off his pants. “I need you to be ready for me first.”

You give him a questioning look as he gently pushes you back onto the bed until you’re laying flat. He climbs on top of you and grinds his covered hardness against your bare core, making you whimper. He kisses down your neck before moving down to your breasts where he takes his time licking, sucking, and rubbing your sensitive nipples as you squirm under him.

“Have you ever… touched yourself?” Aegon asks in a whisper.

You nod, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Good.” Aegon smirks.

He kisses down your stomach and settles between your thighs. You groan with anticipation as he kisses and nips at your inner thighs. He stops to watch your face as his fingers lightly graze over your most sensitive area. You gasp as he continues to make slow circles with his fingers.

“Does that feel good, wife?” He says almost arrogantly.

You could only moan in response and he chuckles. He removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth to taste you. Your entire body lights on fire from the sight. Just as you are about to beg for more his mouth is on you. You gasp even louder as your hands find his hair. You had never felt anything like this. It was nothing compared to your own fingers. He slowly slides one finger inside you and you scrunch your eyes from the pressure.

“Does that hurt, my love?” Aegon asks, kissing your knee.

“No.” You breathe. “Don’t stop.”

He smirks and begins to move his finger in and out slowly, causing you to arch your back. He continues expertly working his tongue on you as he slips in a second finger. You yank harder onto his hair as your breath grows heavier. He groans in response and the vibrations against you bring you to the edge. You let out a long moan as you reach your peak.

Aegon strips off his pants and your eyes widen at his size. Before you have time to overthink he lines himself up at your entrance. He asks if you’re ready before slowly sliding into you. Aegon groans loudly from how tightly you clench around him. It takes all of his strength not to start fucking you hard like a common whore. You are so much more special to him, his wife, his queen, his heart.

You breathe heavily through the pain as Aegon moves slowly in and out of you. As soon as the pain begins to fade you crave more of him. You pull him closer against you and whisper for him to go faster. He speeds up slightly but the movement is still agonizingly slow for what you craved. It was agonizing for him too, to be this gentle with you until you were ready.

“Aegon…” You groan in frustration. “Please… just fuck me.”

Aegon does not hesitate before he begins pounding into you. You could tell how much he had been holding back. Moans fill the room as you both get closer to the edge. You wrap your legs around his hips forcing him deeper into you.

“Gods, you are so fucking tight.” Aegon groans in your ear.

His words spur you on and you dig your nails into his back as your second orgasm begins to creep up on you. Aegons thrusts become sloppy as he reaches his own peak. He did not want to finish before you but the feel of you was too overwhelming.

“My love, I think I’m gonna-“ He pants.

“Me too.” You moan.

Your words trigger his release as he thrusts deeply inside you and moans loudly against your neck. This draws out your own orgasm and you finish in sync as you hold him tightly to you.

He remains inside you and your eyes meet.

“I think I am in love with you, (y/n).” He whispers, brushing your golden hair from your face. He never thought he would say that to anyone.

“I think I am in love with you, Aegon.” You smile widely.

Aegon places a kiss to your nose before rolling off of you. He pulls you in close for a cuddle and wraps his arms around you. You sigh peacefully, but as you begin to doze off you feel something poking against your backside.

“I am not finished with you yet.” Aegon whispers in your ear, creating goosebumps on your skin.

**********

You wake the next morning as the sunlight peers through the window. You look up to your handsome new husband peacefully asleep and press a kiss to his chest. He stirs in his sleep and you press another kiss to his stomach as an idea crosses your mind. Your clothes still laid discarded on the floor from last night. The only thing covering his now hardening manhood was a thin sheet. You gently pull the sheet down and reveal him in all his glory. You watch his face as you lightly grasp him with your hand. He quietly moans and squirms under your touch but does not wake.

You continue to watch his unconscious reactions as you place a kiss to his tip, then a lick, then a suck. Finally, you take him fully into your mouth and he groans as he finally wakes up. He looks down at you with surprise in his heavy lidded eyes. You smirk up at him as you continue to work your mouth on him. He threads his fingers through your hair and gently pushes your head further down. The gagging sounds you make quickly pushes him to the edge. You swallow his release as his fingers tighten in your hair and he groans your name.

“You are incredible.” Aegon huffs, still panting.

You giggle at him while you take a sip of wine. The sheet now hung low just barely covering him.

“I am not finished with you yet.” You wink and lean forward to kiss his lips.

Aegon cups your cheek and deepens the kiss as you move to straddle him. You grind against him through the sheet between you. You moan against his mouth when you feel that he’s already hard again.

You quickly pull the sheet down and he gasps into your mouth as your fingers wrap tightly around him. You hold intense eye contact as you slowly slide down onto his cock, watching every face and noise he makes.

You move your hips testing out this new position and Aegon groans and reaches up to grab your breasts. You grind faster along him and you both begin to moan louder. He grabs your ass to aide your movements, his fingers hold on so tightly they were sure to leave bruises.

You get closer and closer to the edge before Aegon sits up slightly and starts pounding into you. He relished at the sight of you above him. Your perfect tits bouncing as your beautiful pleasure etched face let out desperate moans for him, he had never seen a more heavenly sight.

He presses his fingers on your most sensitive spot and you cry out as you come undone for him. He fucks you through your orgasm before quickly finding his own.

You collapse onto the bed beside him, both panting heavily. Aegon turns to you with a boyish grin on his face which you could not help but find adorable.

“You are incredible.” He breathes.

“You said that.” You chuckle and brush his snowy hair from his face.

“I meant it.” He leans up and kisses you.

The kiss was meant to be quick but you pull each other closer again as your tongues dance together. Aegon pulls back with a pained expression.

“I wish I could stay here all day with you.” He says looking at you with pure adoration. “Really I do.”

“I know.” You softly kiss his lips. “But the king has important matters to attend to, I understand.”

He presses a final lingering kiss to your lips before leaving bed and getting ready for the day.

**********

You did not see Aegon for the rest of the day as he attended important matters. By the time he joined you in bed you were fast asleep. He slipped into the sheets quietly before pausing to admire you. The way your hair and milky skin seemed to glow in the moonlight made you look completely ethereal. He watched you as your breath lightly rose and fell. He could not believe how head over heels in love he was in a marriage he had nearly refused.

The next morning Aegon was gone again before you woke. You sigh and get dressed before going out to search for him. You hadn’t had a moment to speak for an entire a day now, and you were also missing him in other ways.

Aegon was alone in the small council room focused on a pile of parchments in front of him. His head shoots up when you knock on the open door and his firm expression quickly softens.

“My love… what are you doing here?” He puts the papers down and stands from his chair.

“I have not seen you since yesterday morning. I simply miss my husband.” You shrug as you walk over to him with a smile.

“I have missed you too wife.” He pulls you in close by the waist and you wrap your arms around his neck.

You press your lips to his and the kiss quickly becomes urgent and wanting. Aegon lifts you up onto the table and kisses you deeper as his tongue dips into your mouth. His hardness pressing against your core makes the need for him unbearable. You begin to pull at the laces of his pants.

“My love wait… we should not do that here.” Aegon murmurs against your lips but makes no attempt to stop you. “The doors are wide open.”

“I don’t care.” You respond in a raspy voice that lights a fire in him.

He kisses you again hard and begins frantically pushing up your skirts. You finish unlacing his ties and release him from his trousers. He wastes no time lining himself up to your entrance and plunges deep inside you causing you to let out a yelp.

“Shh.” Aegon smirks against your neck.

You bite your lip as he quickly pounds into you, legs dangling loosely around his hips. There was no time to ease into things when someone could walk by the open doors at any moment and catch you both in such a state. Although you did not actually want to be caught, the thrill of it made your heart race. You feel your peak coming faster than ever before.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Aegon rasps in your ear.

“Gods, Aegon I’m-“ His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm overcoming your senses.

He quickly covers your mouth as you cry out against his hand, still alarmingly loud given the location. Your orgasm triggers his own and he grunts into your neck as he comes deep inside you. You quickly come down from the table and fix yourselves as you’re still catching your breath.

Nearly seconds after Aegon tucks himself back into his pants a member of the small council enters the room. Had they come in only a minute ago you would have been caught.

“Your grace, my queen.” They nod to you both. “I had matters to discuss with you, my king.” He glances to you, a silent way of asking you to leave.

“Yes, of course.” You say as you excuse yourself from the room.

You turn back to Aegon as you head to the door and you realize his hair is now a mess from your activities. He gives you his devilishly handsome smirk and you give a smirk back before leaving the room.

**********

You tossed and turned, unable to sleep. It was nearing the hour of the wolf and Aegon had still not returned to bed. You huff as you throw on a robe and go off in search of him. He was not in the small council room where he spent most late nights. You were beginning to worry until you heard his laughter echo down the hall. You followed his loud voice to the throne room where you see him sitting leisurely on the iron throne and drinking with some men.

“Ah! My beautiful wife!” He exclaims when he sees you.

The gentlemen mumble “my queen” to your arrival. You simply look at Aegon unimpressed and cross your arms.

“Uh oh gentleman.” Aegon smirks drunkenly to the other men. “It seems my wife is upset with me. You best give us some privacy.”

The men chuckle at Aegons antics before leaving you alone in the room. Aegon looks to you with a smirk still painted across his face, unphased by the stern look on yours.

“Why do you look so serious, my love?” He says teasingly.

“Do you have any idea how late it is?” You walk towards him sitting on the throne, arms still crossed in front of you.

“I am afraid I simply lost track of time, my darling.” Aegon shrugs as he takes another drink of wine.

You scoff at his response.

“Fine.” You shrug back. “I will just return to bed then… alone.”

You turn to leave the room with annoyance burning through your veins. Aegon quickly stands and grabs your hand. He pulls you to him and wraps his arms around your waist so you could not pull away, although you try briefly.

“You shall not return to bed alone, my darling.” Aegon says as he kisses your neck causing goosebumps along your skin.

“You did not seem to care for me a moment ago… while you drank and laughed with your friends.” You tried to hide the desire laced in your angry tone.

“On the contrary.” Aegon pulls back to look at you. “I was telling them all about my beautiful new queen.”

He begins to kiss your neck again and you could not help but melt into his arms.

“My bold queen.” He kisses your chin. “My kind queen.” He kisses your cheek. “My perfect wife.” Finally, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

You do not hesitate to kiss him back, the desire for him burning within you. He parts your lips and when you think he is about to lead you back to your chambers he swiftly picks you up and leads you over to the iron throne.

“What are you doing?” You ask in a panic as Aegon places you down on the throne and gets on his knees in front of you.

“What does it look like I am doing?” He smirks as he pushes the skirts of your robe and nightgown up to your waist.

“Aegon we cannot-“ The words die on your tongue when his tongue is on you.

He quickly gets annoyed with the crown slipping from his head so he yanks it off and places it on you. He smirks at the sight of you, legs spread in front of him, sitting on the iron throne with his crown sitting upon your head. He places a kiss to your knee before diving back into you.

Your hands bury into his white hair as he expertly licks your bundle of nerves. You try not to make too much noise but soft moans pour from your mouth. He slips his fingers inside you and you cry out too loudly before slapping your hand over your mouth.

Suddenly, a rustling of armour pulls you out of your daze and a knight appears before you. You tap on Aegons shoulder rapidly and he stops his actions and looks to the knight.

“I- Please, forgive me your graces...” The knight stammered as he averted his eyes away from where Aegon still sat on his knees in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” Aegon demands.

“Forgive me, your grace. I heard a scream and came to investigate.” The knight responds, his eyes still on the ground awkwardly.

“Well, that is understandable.” Aegons tone softens. “However, in the future if you hear screams of that nature you can assume that is just the queen.” He say arrogantly.

You playfully slap Aegon on the shoulder.

“Yes, your grace... I will not make that mistake again. Forgive me.” The man bows and rushes out of the room still keeping his eyes to the floor.

“Well that was mortifying.” You say as you go to stand, your heart still racing.

Aegon shrugs and firmly holds your hips in place. “Please excuse the minor interruption, my queen.”

He places a quick kiss to your lips before dipping his head back down again. It takes you no time to come undone as he eats you like a man starved and pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Oh… gods!” You do not bother to hide your moans this time as you reach your peak.

Aegon does not cease his actions until you push him away from overstimulation. He looks at you with his classic boyish grin while his face glistens from your essence. You lean forward and capture his lips again, tasting yourself on his tongue. When you pull back Aegon cups your cheek and looks into your eyes deeply.

“You are the most perfect wife I could have imagined.” He places a kiss to your lips. “A fun wife.” He smirks.

You smile at him and place a kiss to his forehead. He moves to stand before lifting you up and carrying you all the way back to your chambers. You spend the entire night making love. Your heart felt so full with hope of a fun future with your new husband.

—

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

From hate to love… or something like that

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 15.7k (sorrrryyyy)

warnings: arranged marriage, hate-to-love, mentions of rape, mentions of incest, mentions of suicidal thoughts, drinking alcohol, mommy issues, daddy issues, mentions of sex without love, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), porn with plot (but something cheap, tbh) and I probably forgot something but I think that makes it clear that this shit is not for minors, so MINORS DNI :)

A/N: I started this since the second season premiere started so if you find any canon-like scenes I completely promise it wasn't intentional. I also want to make it clear that you are responsible for what you read and if you don't like something please just let it go, that would be very kind of you!

And this doesn't make me team green at all, I'm a defender of the rightful queen to the death… it's just that her brother is too sexy to ignore 🫦

Enjoy!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @barcelonaloverf1life @ilovequeen978

FIRST ACT: HATE

Finding a wife for Prince Aegon II was probably one of the most difficult tasks Alicent Hightower had to face.

The engagement with his sister Helaena had been broken after a more tempting offer for the princess, which would get them a permanent alliance with the Lannister house that they couldn’t refuse. Viserys himself had agreed to accept and the queen consort had no choice but to give her little daughter in marriage to a blonde lord. The problem was that her son was left without a fiancée.

Aemond didn't worry her, after all he was growing up quite quickly and she knew that he was more inclined to become a warrior than to fulfill his marital responsibilities. But Aegon, however, was a lost cause.

It was no secret that Alicent had always felt disappointed in her eldest son. He was careless, lazy, and a hopeless alcoholic, qualities that couldn’t be celebrated at all. Now that her beloved father had returned, the queen didn’t hesitate to consult him on the matter, hoping that the man had a solution for the problem that afflicted her, and together they analyzed what was the best option to unite the king's first-born son. Especially after, years ago, Rhaenyra and Daemon got married and moved to Dragonstone indefinitely.

“It must be someone we completely trust, someone who cannot dare to hurt us because they know that their blood is linked to ours.”

The Arryns were loyal to the future queen Rhaenyra and some of the houses south of Vale were too. The Westerlands was the richest section of the Seven Kingdoms and was already secured, so it seemed prudent to the king's hand to go for the next widest section: The Reach. The most formidable options within this area were the Hightower and the Tyrell. Obviously taking the first option would be a waste since the members of that house would support Aegon without complaint due to their kinship, so the decision was made with the direct heir of Highgarden.

King Viserys agreed to the idea without putting up many obstacles, since poppy milk clouded his judgment most of the time and also the affairs of his first son had never interested him much.

The union was sealed as soon as the deal was offered to Lyonel Tyrell, who was extremely happy to be able to assure his family a future with said marriage. It was thus that he gave you, his only daughter, to Prince Aegon II Targaryen.

And the second the boy saw you, he absolutely hated you.

He had come to the idea (very unpleasant, by the way) of marrying his younger sister and now that his mother was forcing him to marry a complete stranger, he couldn't be angrier. In a short time he would turn twenty and it seemed pathetic to him that at that point he would have to offer shows like those before the kingdom. Because the wedding wasn’t simple, of course, but thousands and thousands of guests were present at the banquet that Alicent forced the king to prepare, claiming by saying that he had done the same for Princess Rhaenyra's wedding.

“It is a pleasure to finally see each other, your grace. They have told me a lot about you”

You had said those precise words the first time you had met, when his mother organized a walk so that you could 'get to know each other better', although supervised by her own eyes that were behind you, making sure that her son didn’t commit any indecency. But no matter how sweetly you smiled and spoke them, Aegon could sense that you were lying.

There was hatred in your eyes and a clear resentment towards the life from which you were torn, as if it weren’t an honor to have the opportunity to marry the prince of the seven kingdoms. Your hypocritical words represented an insult to the boy and that is why he decided from the first moment that he would hate you deeply.

With your mere existence you would have deprived him of his freedom, his entertainment, his youth. He would be tied to you for future occasions, he would have to take you to all the events, secure your food, your clothes. share the same roof and pretend to be nice to you in the eyes of others. And, besides, he could have thought of a lot of candidates better than you, physically speaking. Your beauty was quite ordinary for his taste, as if he were looking at any painting; cheap and repetitive.

“I regret to admit that I am not so fortunate, Lady Tyrell. But I am happy for the union of our houses” he lied, in the same way that you had done.

And it was obvious that this didn’t go unnoticed by you, that you had the same critical eye as your recent fiancé but that you sought to maintain composure in the presence of your future mother-in-law.

On the wedding day Aegon had a good time only because he was able to drown himself in monumental quantities of liquor and because he was able to eat as much as he wanted of the exquisite banquet. He didn't even pay a bit of attention to how you looked in the wedding dress that the royal seamstresses had been in charge of making in record time, because when the time came he flattered you superficially and then ignored the matter. The ceremony kiss was the first you shared, and it was so fleeting and awkward that the prince felt disappointed. On the wedding night he was so drunk that he didn't even look at you.

You knew that the unfortunate day would come when you would have to carnally please the young man and the simple thought of being defiled in this way caused you terror and nausea in equal parts.

It was a stranger whom you had married, of whom the only thing you knew was his noble title and name.

In the days following your marriage, unfortunately or fortunately, Aegon didn’t even speak to you. You didn't have to share a room, so it was easier for him to completely ignore you while he went about his ways.

You had to admit that the only good thing about having taken this trip was the beautiful landscapes that King's Landing offered you. Your room had a direct view of Blackwater Bay and you spent several days looking out the window at the beautiful sea. Sometimes you could watch Prince Aemond ride his dragon, and honestly, the size of the beast scared you a little. You hadn't had the chance to observe Aegon in Sunfyre yet but if he was as impressive as Vhagar, then he would be quite a sight.

A week passed, then another and another where you were nothing more than a guest in the palace. You didn't talk to anyone, you ate dinner alone, you barely saw the outside of the castle. Sometimes you went to the Sept, pretending to pray, but really just killing the endless boring hours of the day. You were somewhat lucky if you found Helaena, the most sensible and calm within the royal family, because you had pleasant conversations with her. When you met the queen it was a little more difficult, because she asked you endless questions in which you had to fake the answers. How could you be fulfilling your parenting responsibilities if the capricious prince wouldn't deign to lay a finger on you?

After a month, Alicent seemed to take matters into her own hands and forced her eldest son to take you to sleep in the same room as him. However, Aegon seemed to want to blame you for something you hadn't chosen. He never spoke to you and every time you went to bed, he would stand with his back to you as far away as possible. And as if that weren’t enough, he had explicitly ordered his guards not to allow you to leave the room unless it was in his company. It was his way of punishing you, of getting even for the complaints of his mother and grandfather regarding his lack of interest in marriage.

“My mother wants us to attend a dinner tonight” you were so unaccustomed to hearing his voice addressing you that it took you a second to process what he was telling you “I will talk to the maids to bring you a suitable dress.”

You didn't know what to say. You didn't want to go to that dinner, nor did you want to be with him, or wear one of those tight, annoying dresses. Aegon, noticing your silence, deigned to look at you and in your eyes he could see the aversion you felt for him. It was something difficult to mask and he had seen it on so many faces that it was nothing new.

“As you wish, prince.”

A bitter laugh came from your husband's throat.

“Don't be a hypocrite, for God's sake. I know you hate me as much as I hate you. Save appearances for guests, not in the chambers."

You wouldn’t have had the courage to admit out loud what his majesty had said, but you didn’t dare to contradict him either. You had to play the role of a self-sacrificing and suitable wife for the man if you wanted to keep your honor, but above all your head.

You tried, with all your might, to see some quality in Aegon that you liked so that you could treat him in a better way, which always resulted in something useless. Perhaps if he had been nicer to you, you could have known how to forgive his faults, but even that wasn’t granted to you.

The dinner was mostly family-oriented, with the guest of honor being from House Baratheon whose purpose was to discuss some political matters with the king and queen. Due to his health, Viserys didn’t usually leave his room more than necessary, however, that night the occasion warranted it.

“Lady Tyrell, how is your stay in King's Landing?”

The king had a reputation for being gentle with his guests and was the first person to ask you a personal question, so the smile you showed him was genuine.

“Very pleasant, your grace. The servants treat me as well as possible and I must admit that the views from my room are beautiful. Your dragon is impressive, Prince Aemond, by the way.”

The boy, who wasn't all that expressive, just looked at you for a moment and tilted his head down slightly.

“I'm glad you like it, princess.”

"And my son? How is our Aegon treating you?”

That question was more complicated to answer, since it required expressing a lie. Everyone present focused their attention on you, except your husband who had been staring into nothingness for a long time.

“Very well, my king. He’s a good husband and I am happy to have been able to unite our houses.”

The aforementioned snorted, incredulous at what you were saying at the table, and took a long drink from his glass of wine.

“And I hope very soon you can give us strong and beautiful heirs.”

Although that was intended as a compliment, you felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on you again.

“I wish the same. It will be an honor to serve the crown and bear the progeny of a house as formidable as yours."

The queen was pleased with your answer and for a moment felt sorry for you. She knew her son well, so deep down she knew that it wasn’t a gift from the gods to be married to him. The rest of the table looked at you curiously, wondering if you were serious, trying to be ironic, or just trying to play the good girl role.

Aegon, as expected, became intoxicated during dinner and when Queen Alicent announced that she was going to retire to sleep you thought it prudent to do the same. Your husband, however, had other wishes.

“Stay here,” he asked, his voice serious.

When he was drunk he looked you up and down, probably evaluating how worth it would be to decide to strip you naked and fuck you once and for all. Your body in the dress you were wearing looked better with a few drinks on him.

“I think it would be best to retire, my husband. This way you can stay with the men to chat and… drink”

“But I want you to stay here to keep me company,” he insisted, holding your wrist tightly “Or don't you want to please your prince?”

It wasn’t a loving request, but one for control. He wanted to have you there only to demonstrate his power over you, without paying attention to you or talking; only as an ornament.

“Aegon, enough,” Alicent interrupted, observing the scene that had begun to unfold. “Daughter, let's go to sleep. “I will accompany you”

“Fine, do whatever you want,” he spat contemptuously, abruptly releasing the wrist that was holding you. There was hatred in his eyes, but also pride.

The queen said goodbye to everyone present and then offered you her hand to take you away from there. You spent most of the way in silence, walking through the long, wide corridors of the fortress followed only by the faithful footsteps of Ser Criston Cole.

“You must be patient with him” he began to say “He is a particular man and sometimes… difficult, but I know that with your docile character you will be able to deal with his temperament.”

What did she know about your character? She didn't know you at all.

“So it shall be, Queen Alicent.”

“I understand what you are going through, dear. We both come from the same lands to endure the difficult task of accompanying a monarch. But it is our duty to carry it out with all the honor and temper worthy of our homes. Of course, I can trust that as a woman you will be able to help him fulfill another of the most important marital commitments, such as having children, to maintain the lineage and blood. For a virgin like you, Aegon may be rough, but... patience and resilience are among the best virtues. A woman in royalty must endure these things to give the best to the people.”

You had never wanted to be a princess. And just when you thought the queen was showing you compassion, you realized that she was only looking out for her interests and those of her family.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind"

She smiled and immediately left a kiss on your forehead, which could have been taken as a maternal kiss but which you didn't like at all. The longer you can postpone suffering, the better. If Aegon didn't even want to look at you, it was perfect.

That night, as soon as you touched the mattress and the silk sheets that decorated it, you began to cry until you fell asleep.

SECOND ACT: CONTROL

Time passed again and although the punishment of not leaving your room was not revoked, you found multiple activities with which to entertain yourself in the prince's absence. You filled your mornings and afternoons with reading, writing, knitting and embroidering. The nights were even more boring because most of the time your husband wasn't there either.

Rumors that you hadn’t yet consummated the marriage had spread through the halls of the palace and soon the smallfolk would murmur too. After all, the people couldn’t entertain themselves with anything more than the gossip and the plays that were going on in the poor neighborhoods, making fun of royal affairs.

You no longer even had the energy to deny those accusations and Aegon had given you the perfect opportunity by throwing you out of his room and refusing to leave the four walls of yours: if you didn't leave there, there was no way anyone would question you. And since you didn't have family inside the Keep, you didn't have any visitors either.

One night, however, your husband surprised you by entering your room. It had been days since you two had seen each other and his staggering around the room warned you that he was drunk again. You often wondered how he resisted drinking so much and the long-term effects it would have on his health, but right now your mind could only focus on the fear of what he might want in that state.

“Good night, dear,” he drawled, sounding as sarcastic as possible.

You were in your nightgown and you were carrying in your hand an old book that you had been reading and that you threw on the nightstand as soon as you saw him approaching you. You didn't have time to say or do anything else when he had already approached you in giant steps to grab you by the back of your neck and start kissing you. He was abrupt, careless, with his mouth smelling of wine and tasting even worse. You wanted to cry from helplessness.

“It's what everyone wants, isn't it?” he murmured, separating himself from you, but still holding you by the hair at the back of your neck. “A marriage arranged in a couple of days to form alliances. And that's it, my life was ruined thanks to my father wanting your stupid castle to expand his domain."

The truth is that couldn't be further from the truth. Viserys’s ambition had never been that, as he had been so little involved in the process that he simply didn’t care who his children were or were not married to. Except for Rhaenyra, of course.

Aegon continued:

"I didn’t want this. I didn't want to marry you, or anyone..."

“And you think I do?” you confronted him.

You were tired of the insult, the humiliation and him ignoring you as if you were worthless; even if that was what a husband did. And the most likely thing was that your words would be forgotten due to alcohol or that they would put an end to the wait for your suffering to begin and Aegon decided to take you once and for all.

“You have nothing to lose, prince,” you continued. “You get drunk as much as you want, you run away from your responsibilities and walk everywhere when I have to stay locked up here all day just because you want me to. I have to endure the suspicious looks of everyone because I still don't have an heir in the womb while you go and fuck your whores."

“I'm the prince and I fuck whoever I want, did you hear me?” he hissed. The grip on your hair had already begun to become painful and a few tears slipped down your cheeks “And I stop fucking whoever I want too. I'm not going to please anyone by getting you pregnant. There they will see if they come and force me to put my cock in you”

“Do you doubt that, your grace?” you exclaimed bitterly “Doubts that will force us to conceive?”

“So that's what you want? Do you want me to do it?”

“I want to go home. That is what I want. But my father used me as a bargaining chip and that's why I can't do anything."

“I'm sorry it was like that. If I had chosen my wife, I would surely have chosen someone prettier and more educated than you, but I can't do much either."

Once again, the man pushed you until your lips joined his and the same discomfort settled in you. He didn't kiss you with love, but with fury and violence to the point that you had to push him away when he bit you so hard that a trickle of blood began to come out of your lower lip. Aegon was also stained by it and with an acidic smile he ran the tip of his tongue all over his mouth to remove any traces.

Looking at you he didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry either. He just seemed fed up.

Everyone knew, or suspected, that the prince was very capable of taking sexual advantage of any woman. He had done it before with maids and prostitutes and had slept peacefully throughout that time. However, there was something about you that encouraged him not to. He didn't even think it was something about you specifically but about the situation, because he wanted to do the opposite of what he was ordered: if everyone ordered him to take you to have an heir, it automatically became an unpleasant act and at the same time that he refused.

He was hurt, not because of you but because of years and years of abuse and neglect. He didn't really know you at all, he only knew what you represented.

You were just the unlucky one who had married him.

"I hate you. I hate that you are my wife and you are not worthy of me even touching you” he snapped with disdain. You were still fighting to keep the tears inside your eyes and his vision had also blurred slightly “I wish I had never met you.”

“The feeling is mutual, your grace,” you expressed, your voice breaking. If it was an offense to the crown, you wouldn't even care anymore and if he killed you right there you wouldn't regret it too much either.

Aegon looked at you one last time before staggering back out the door without another word, closing it behind him with a loud gesture and leaving you alone in the room. The reality that you had escaped, once again, from being raped by the man fell on you like a bucket of cold water and your knees weakened until you fell to the floor.

You were hurt, tired, and defeated by the stress of the situation and the fear that had washed over you the entire time. Luckily he was gone, otherwise you didn't know if you would have endured what he had to do to you. It was better to have him busy in a brothel than to have to endure him in your bed.

You wished you could talk to someone and cry on a loved one’s shoulder, only to realize a second later that that was impossible. Aegon was your new family, now you belonged to the Targaryens and you would have to do as they wished.

Anger completely overwhelmed you to the point where you stood up from your seat and began throwing pieces of glassware all over the room, in a violent outburst at what had just happened and the way you felt. None of the guards outside your door dared to come in to check on you and soon enough you fell back to the ground, exhausted from the effort.

As you cried, perhaps for the umpteenth time since you had been married, you thought about how you would never be able to love Prince Aegon. Not even if you tried.

THIRD ACT: PAIN

After months, the inevitable arrived. The truth was that the first time you felt sorrow and anger, but the following times it became more tolerable. Not because it was better, but because you began to get used to it. Aegon didn't change his attitude towards you one bit. You indeed spent more time together, although that didn’t mean that you got along better or that you had begun to have more sympathy for each other.

The only advantage was that you had started to be friends with some people in the palace. Your sister-in-law, to begin with, as well as some of the maids who were in charge of looking after you, as they turned out to be your only company during those days. Those distractions were more than enough for you, considering the situation you were in, and they kept you sane as time went by.

Almost like a punishment from heaven, it seemed that you weren’t pregnant yet, since your biological processes seemed to continue working to the letter. That meant that, unfortunately, you would have to keep trying; when Aegon was lost enough to forget who you were and you had to stand still as a statue to let him loom over you.

You often liked to imagine what your life would have been like if you had stayed in Highgarden. Nobody knew it yet, but there you had found your first love and although it never went beyond a few kisses, you treasured the memory with particular affection. You had always wanted to marry a sweet man who loved and respected you, who would give you your place as a wife and adore you day and night; someone with whom you could feel protected, cared for, but above all happy. You thought, naively, that that boy you had met and who was nothing more than a commoner could have given you that life, but all those possibilities were nothing more than fantasies in which you tried to lock yourself in to feel less miserable with your unpleasant reality.

One night Helaena had invited you to a modest dinner in her company that you couldn't refuse, since none of your husbands were present and some time with friends could clear your mind. You didn't even know where the prince was, although it was expected that he was spending some time in the town with his friends.

“Sometimes I feel sad about our situation,” said the blonde. You were in the privacy of her chambers, not even with the maids present, so confessions like that were allowed “But I am happy that you are my friend, something that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.”

“I'm glad to talk to you too,” you smiled sincerely. “You're the best thing I've found around here.”

“My brothers aren't that bad, they're just… well, we've had a hard life. And that's why they behave like that."

“I think there is no justification for being a…” idiot, you wanted to say, but you had to remember that you were in the presence of the princess, “a person who is rude to others. But I guess that happens with royalty, right? They do what they want without consequences”

"I guess so. Kings, princes, the heirs, lords, dukes…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laughed bitterly “It's probably a masculine quality.”

You never thought your sister-in-law would have that kind of humor and to be honest, most of the time she was a comic relief for the situations you two were going through. Sometimes her prophecies scared you, especially the way she phrased them, but you wanted to think that her premonitions would never affect you directly.

When you finally got tired of chatting and the food was finished, you decided to return to your room, so you could have a peaceful night's rest. It was raining outside and thunder echoed in the distance, making the atmosphere slightly gloomy, but at the same time cooling every corner of King's landing.

The novelty of your position was no longer important enough to require you to be escorted by guards twenty-four hours a day, so you were able to slowly walk through all the corridors that led to your sanctuary. It was modest but cute, although not on the level of Aegon’s.

A man was guarding the door and you bowed your head to him to let you pass, which he did without any opposition. Once inside you got rid of your shoes and unbuttoned your corset, not caring that the room was almost in darkness; only the moonlight illuminated from the window. You took a few steps forward and squealed when you discovered that there was another person in the room, sitting at the small table with a drink in his hand. You would have started screaming for help if you hadn't noticed that said intruder had silver hair falling like a curtain over his face.

"Your grace?" you asked cautiously.

It isn’t usual for Aegon to drink in your room, as he preferred other places with more interesting company, and when you didn’t receive an answer you approached slowly. You thought that at best he had simply fallen asleep and at worst he would be dead.

At first his long, wavy hair covered your view of his face, but when he noticed your presence he raised his head and then you could see him. His features became clearer as lightning illuminated him from the outside and for a second you were horrified.

His cheek was red and a trickle of blood was dripping from his nose, however, what surprised you the most was seeing his eyes completely swollen.

“For the seven, I… I'll go call a maester”

“Don't even think about it,” he exclaimed hoarsely, seeing that you were already rushing towards the door.

Your husband didn't sound like his usual angry tone, but rather he seemed... hurt.

You thought for a second about what the appropriate reaction to the situation was. You couldn't leave the room because, in addition to the guards murmuring, it would be impolite to leave him in that state; also, where would you go? If you ignored him, he would probably take it as an insult and he had already made it clear that he didn't want to see someone who could take care of those injuries.

You hated him, it was true, but you weren't an insensitive monster either.

"Who did this to you?"

Aegon was surprised by how soft, even kind, your question sounded and the intoxication gave him some courage to answer.

“My mother and my grandfather. Mostly my mother, my grandfather rather dedicated his efforts to reminding me how useless I am”

You didn't know what to say. You never believed that the queen would be capable of hitting one of her sons like that. You didn't believe it from any mother, actually.

With some trepidation you took one of the chairs and placed it in front of him, expecting him to immediately push you away or ask you to get out of his sight. However, the prince didn't seem to have enough energy to do any of those things.

He had a lost look on his face and tears began to run down his face.

“Nothing… nothing I do pleases her. Neither to her, nor to my grandfather. All the time they are pressuring me, demanding me, yelling at me. Apparently Otto still hopes that my father will name me king, but I've never wanted that. They blame me for drinking all the time and how do they expect them not to? My father cares so little about me and my mother hates me. All his life he has hated me. She does it, my brothers… and so do you. My own wife hates me. Everyone… everyone who knows me does it”

You were silent for a moment.

There were mixed feelings inside you, because you couldn't forget the mistreatment that the man had given you during those months, nor the way he used you for his pleasure. He was right when he said you hated him. However, there was a compassionate part of you, deep down, that felt sorry for the man's state.

“And sometimes I just want to be dead. I just wish all the shit would go away and drowning in alcohol and dying would take away Alicent's problem and allow her to focus her attention on something better”

His gaze lifted and he looked at you with crystallized eyes.

“Maybe you should poison me one day. So your suffering would also end”

“Your highness, I cannot do that”

“But would you like it? Do you hate me enough to wish me dead?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly.

"Liar. You lie like everyone else. You want me dead”

You knew that saying something negative at that moment, in the state he was in, could result in him making some incoherence that you would be blamed for the next morning. So it was best to act cautiously.

“I don't think anyone wants that”

“My mother does. My father, Rhaenyra does it, and so does her stupid new husband…”

“Your grace…” you interrupted him harshly. Listening to him sink into his self-indulgence was too much to bear “You better go to sleep, don't you think? Now you're not thinking clearly, you'll feel better in the morning."

But Aegon seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to anything you had to say to him.

“I guess I just wish someone wouldn't completely detest my existence, you know?”

Aegon had done terrible things to you, of course, but seeing him at that moment made you wonder if all of this was the product of poor parenting and psychological abuse that had been perpetuated for twenty long years. You couldn't say your father loved you, not after what he had done, but at least he hadn't constantly hurt you as the man in front of you had. You knew better than anyone that hate had to be healed with empathy and for a brief moment you felt soft for him.

Once Aegon was a small child, without sins, without accumulated hatred, without evil... and apparently that frightened child hadn’t been completely buried, because it was him who cried inconsolably and saw death as a viable alternative to end that suffering. However, there is no redemption without guilt, right? You don't get to heaven without first repenting.

You stayed silent for a long time, listening to him sob, and when you gathered the courage you spoke:

“Prince, can I be honest with you?”

You had spoken in a low and benevolent voice, while you slid from your chair until you were kneeling in front of him. The boy didn't even want to take advantage of that position for a sexual act, he was simply too tired and drained to think. You placed your hands on his knees and seeing that he nodded, you continued:

“You say you wish someone wouldn't hate you, but have you ever made an effort to do so? Or have you even wondered why people feel that way about you?”

“It's something natural for them”

“I didn't feel it,” you said, honestly. You hated the idea of getting married out of obligation, but if he had been different from the beginning maybe your feelings for him would be too “And you made me feel it. With your contempt, your humiliations, your punishments…”

“If everyone thinks you're a monster, what's the point of contradicting them?”

“And then you prefer to agree with them?”

You were probably taking too many liberties with the prince, but you would never have a chance to talk to him like that again. He was vulnerable and therefore less defensive than normal.

“Every person is responsible for their actions,” you continued. “You can't change how the queen or king feels about you, but you can choose to offer something better to others. If it’s your desire that people not hate you, that won’t happen overnight just because you tell it to. It takes time, effort and above all it requires kindness. If you live regretting the concept that people have of you, without doing anything to change it, then you will live a lifetime of dissatisfaction. If you seriously want someone to feel happy about your existence then pursue that goal, don’t expect it to be granted to you as a divine work.”

A deeper cry began to well up from the man and you almost thought he would lean down for your hug. Still, he didn't.

“I don't know how to be someone else. I have always been this”

“Not always, that's for sure. Water that stagnates rots and becomes a swamp. The one that runs, on the other hand, becomes a river and flows into the ocean.”

You raised the handkerchief you always carried and, in an act of kindness that was also intended to be an offering of peace, you gently wiped the tears and dried blood from his face. Aegon squirmed as he had never experienced that kind of care.

“You just have to ask yourself: what do you choose to be?”

For an endless moment he watched you. His judgment was clouded by drunkenness, but he wondered if he wasn't hallucinating and you were simply the voice of his conscience telling him something he had never wanted to accept.

It was easier to blame others for his mistakes, to justify himself by saying that everything about him was his mother's fault and that if he behaved the way he did it was only a defense mechanism. Aegon had never thought about how his treatment of women was a direct consequence of Alicent's upbringing: if his own mother had hurt him, why wouldn't other women do the same to him? And since he was convinced that they were all going to do it, he preferred to turn them into objects that he could use for his benefit.

He was so drunk and so exhausted from all the crying he had shed that he simply pushed your hand away from his face and stood up from the chair, without saying a word. You, now standing, saw him begin to undress and the first thing you thought was that he would seek to heal his sorrows by having sex with you. However, he only got rid of the essentials and then lay on his stomach on the bed. Without any choice, you took off your clothes for the day, put on a nightgown and also lay down on the mattress to sleep.

You were sure that the next day Aegon wouldn’t remember anything and you weighed the possibility of the whole story repeating itself, in an endless and painful loop for the two of you. And if you were right, it would be a shame if you had to live like this for the rest of your days.

FOURTH ACT: REDEMPTION

“Do you know where Meryna is?” you asked one of the maids who had come in to change your bedding.

“No, your grace”

“I'm starting to get hungry and she still hasn't brought my breakfast,” you exclaimed sadly.

You had woken up a while ago and had gotten dressed to go for a walk after eating, to see if this would cheer you up a little. It had been a few days since Aegon had opened up in the privacy of your room and after that you had barely seen him, much less spoken to him. You believed that everything was due to a matter of pride or even shame for what you had witnessed and you simply didn’t give it importance, because you knew that eventually he would approach you again. You just had to wait for him to want to do it.

Almost as if by summons, the black-haired girl appeared through the door, looking agitated and embarrassed by the delay. Furthermore, she came empty-handed.

"Princess…"

“Didn't you bring breakfast?” you asked, still sounding cordial but slightly surprised.

“I'm very sorry, it's just that Prince Aegon asked me to bring the food to the royal dining room. He is waiting for you there, he told me to come and get you.”

He hadn’t mentioned requiring your presence for any breakfast and, according to you, there were no guests in the palace to accompany. The two women noticed your dismay and Meryna stood waiting for a response.

“Did he tell you why?”

“No, your grace”

"Good. Then tell him I'll be there in a moment."

You only took a few minutes to change your dress, one more suitable for being in the presence of the prince and in case there was a guest you didn't know about. There were no guards at your door so you were able to walk to the dining room by yourself and were surprised to see that only your husband was at the table. He had an expression that you interpreted as a mix of impatience and nerves.

“Oh, you finally arrived. Sit down. You, bring the princess something to drink,” he ordered a maid. He used to call you that in the presence of guests, but it was rare for him to have that courtesy when alone.

“Are we waiting for someone?”

"No. I just thought you might want to have breakfast together.”

You were already sitting next to him, and for a second you watched him with a frown. Had he hit his head somewhere or why was he acting so strange?

“Do you prefer juice or wine, your highness?

"Juice"

“And bring her some strawberries,” Aegon exclaimed.

There was something about the situation that scared you, because you imagined that he wouldn't be treating you so kindly without wanting something in return. But you were already his wife and he did whatever he wanted with you, what more could he want from you?

You looked him up and down, as if searching for some sign, but he looked completely normal. He was wearing one of those full black robes he was used to, with a golden chain with emeralds decorating the hem of his neck and a belt accentuating his figure. The dark circles in his eyes were pronounced, as always, but the look was not that of someone angry; you would even say that he looked somewhat passive, even sleepy.

While you were thinking about all that, you remembered the last conversation you had had with him. You feared that madness had finally exploded in your husband and the food you were about to eat was poisoned, as he had suggested at the time. Perhaps out of courtesy he was waiting for you to take the first bite and, trying to control the trembling in your hands, you took a portion of the cold cuts on your plate to put it in your mouth. Luckily the food didn't taste different and after seeing that the man ate it with the utmost calmness, you assumed that it didn't contain any poison either.

There was freshly baked bread, jam, some cheeses, the aforementioned cold cuts, a variety of fruits, scrambled eggs with fresh herbs and chives, as well as some stuffed buns for dessert. It was a mini banquet and as you ate it you couldn't help but wonder why this show of kindness was due.

Aegon didn't seem to have any intention of talking and you didn't try to force him, not wanting to either. The atmosphere was one of peace and tranquility, one you had not experienced since your wedding day until now, and it was a very different but strangely pleasant feeling.

It was just a couple sharing breakfast time, but for two people who come from such a broken home it felt like a totally new experience.

You continued in silence until most of the things served were finished, leaving only what wasn’t to your palate's liking or that your body was simply no longer able to ingest.

“Do you need anything else, your majesty?”

“Clear this table, we won't eat anymore,” he said to the maid, nonchalantly pointing to the leftovers you had left. Then he looked at you “Satisfied?”

"I am. Everything was delicious”

“I want us to do the same tomorrow. I will send a maid for you, so get ready soon,” he said decisively.

Then he got up from his chair, stretched a little, and left the room without saying anything else to you.

You didn't see your husband the rest of the day, but the next morning he kept his promise without fail. Although the breakfast menu was different the routine was the same and again it made you wonder what the reason for it was.

The next day he also requested your presence for breakfast and you concluded that he intended to make it a habit. For the rest of the morning you were supposed to dedicate yourself to your activities, but after a week of following that routine Aegon informed you that he had other plans for you.

“I want you to come with me for a walk.”

"To the exterior?"

"Yeah. I have training with Ser Criston but I don't wish to attend, so you will be my excuse. I'll tell him that the princess wanted to go for a walk and that I couldn't let her go alone."

He was telling you that lie almost like a childish prank and you would swear he was about to smile.

“Huh, okay. If you want it, we will”

You were still confused by his actions, because in all the time you had been there it was the first time he treated you decently. You didn't know if he was still drinking in large quantities, but at least when he went to sleep he no longer reeked of liquor in the same way. And all that week he hadn't forced you to have sex with him.

What had motivated the prince to change his way of behaving towards you?

"Do you want to go to the beach? I will order a couple of horses to be saddled for us” he exclaimed when you had already left the dining room.

You couldn't refuse to go to the bay, because in your entire life you had never seen the ocean and your curiosity was greater than any other feeling. Besides, you loved horses, and being with them might even make you feel better.

Aegon did as he told you and soon enough you were in the stable. He had ordered a beautiful white mare for you, with a silver mane the color of your husband's hair and a formidable build.

You approached to pet the animal, carefully, and tensed completely when you felt another body behind yours. Until that moment you hadn't realized how warm your husband was.

“She's pretty, right?”

His voice sounded at your ear level, as he had also reached out to touch Frostfire’s hair.

"She is"

“I guess you know how to ride,” he muttered under his breath and you let out an offended sigh.

“Of course I do. Highgarden is the heart of the chivalry of the seven kingdoms”

After saying that you turned your head just a little and met his gaze, indigo eyes with hints of lilac looking at you carefully. You could feel his breath against yours and at that closeness your cheeks had already turned red involuntarily.

He separated from you and then went to choose his horse, a black thoroughbred with beautiful braids, to get on it and ask the guards to open the door for you. You almost managed to sneak away, but Ser Criston stopped the two of you just before you could do so, claiming that he had a scheduled practice with the prince.

“I'm taking my wife to Blackwater, she hasn't had a chance to visit since her arrival.”

“But your grace, your father…”

“We will continue with training later, Ser Criston,” he said firmly.

“Will you go to Blackwater without an escort?”

“I will”

"That's impossible"

“Don't worry, I don't want to be accompanied. Just rest for now.”

“But you are the prince.”

"Exactly. I am the prince and I want my orders to be respected."

The boy was a smug son of a bitch when he put his mind to it, just like now. The man had no choice but to obey the words and then the two of you were able to leave. You could get there on foot, but Aegon had felt like riding and had wanted an alternative to quickly escape if something went wrong.

You walked along a path that still belonged to the Red Keep grounds, so there was no great danger of being attacked along the way, and you soon reached the bay. It was even more beautiful up close and as soon as you got off the mare you forgot any courtesy towards your husband, as you rushed towards the shore to watch the waves crash. Your pumps and dress were soaked when the water reached your calves, but it didn't bother you too much because you were happy for the reason.

“Have you never been to the ocean?”

“I'm afraid not, your grace. There was never any business that required me to be on the coast of The Reach and I have always lived surrounded by hills and forests. I had seen some rivers, but…”

Before you could continue your story you staggered because of a wave and to avoid falling you tried to hold on to whatever was within reach, which turned out to be the man next to you. He supported you from the elbows with his strong arms.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he laughed. For the first time in your presence, he had laughed “But we should get away from the shore. I wouldn't want to take you back to the castle all soaked”

You heeded the boy's advice and, still leaning on him, walked towards the sand. The sky was slightly cloudy, so the weather was perfect for walking around without any discomfort.

“I've never visited Highgarden, is it as impressive as rumored?” he asked, as he began to walk in the opposite direction of the Red Keep.

Although you never believed that the prince would be interested in such things, you began to talk to him about your hometown with particular emotion. You told him about his surroundings, about the castle and you also told in greater detail the gardens that once belonged to you and were full of golden roses, as was the emblem of your house.

You were surprised by how attentive the boy was to everything you had to say to him and for the first time since your arrival, you didn't feel like a stranger in your own skin. Talking about your home was like remembering a part of yourself, as if you were showing him your insides through stories of the beautiful hills where you had ridden so many times.

“Everything sounds wonderful,” he concluded. The sea breeze had already ruffled both of your hair and he took advantage of this to brush a strand out of your face “Someday I should go visit it”

“Yes, maybe you would like that” you exclaimed smiling. You had come too far and it was time to walk back, towards where you had left Frostfire and Moonshadow tied up “Your grace, may I ask you a question?”

"Yeah"

You opened your mouth to ask him why he was doing all that and why he had suddenly started showing so much interest in you. You wanted to know the reason for his unexpected kindness and his abstinence from activities that weren’t very pleasant for you. But before you could speak, you took a moment to observe him. His skin looked paler in the light outside and his silver hair waved in the wind, however, what caught your attention the most was the serene expression on his face.

Although you couldn't say that you knew Aegon, the time you had lived together had shown you that his personality was extremely challenging. If you pointed out that he was being nicer to you and questioned him about it, he would most likely revert to his old behavior towards you simply on a whim. So no, you couldn't ask him about anything or you'd ruin the minuscule part of a good relationship you had managed to build.

“I was thinking... Do you think we can one day bring golden roses to the royal gardens? Green and gold are part of your emblem too and that would beautify the place. I could take care of them, if you want.”

“That's a good idea,” he exclaimed happily. You had already turned around to return and you calculated that it must be after noon “I will order them to be brought in as soon as possible, in the hope that the hot weather at King's landing will not ruin them”

“I hope not,” you said, although a little less enthusiastic than before.

You had been lost in thought after the appearance of that question that you did not verbalize and suddenly Aegon feared that he had made some mistake. You walked a few meters in silence, until this state was unbearable for his majesty and he stopped you by holding your shoulders. You were about to ask what had happened when he pulled you against his lips, stealing your breath. It was still a rough kiss, but this time less desperate than before. His hands went down to your waist and held you to his body until there wasn’t even a centimeter of distance left, with your belly touching the heat of his stomach.

“Still no signs that you are pregnant?”

You thought that, perhaps, your answer was in that question and that the only thing the man wanted was to convince you to hurry up the matter of producing an heir.

“I'm sorry to say no. It's very unfortunate."

“We'll have to keep trying,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wanted to downplay the matter “Mother insists on it.”

“Has your mother always been like this to you?”

"What are you talking about?"

“It's just… she seems to have everything under control all the time.”

You couldn't be further from the truth and rather than describing it that way Aegon would have said that she was controlling. She wanted to have things under control, but she couldn't and as an example was the eldest prince himself, whom she had never been able to persuade to behave the way he did.

“Well, she is the queen. I guess that's how she must be” he exclaimed without much encouragement. He was still holding you by the waist and was surprised by how intimate that position was. “But we better get back, they must be wondering where we are”

“Maybe they even think I ran away, taking advantage of the fact that you weren't there to watch me,” you joked.

"Would you do it?"

"Do what?"

“Run away”

You looked at the man, incredulous, because it was stupid to think that if you were planning to run away you would just tell him like that. That was the characteristic of it, that it was surprising and hidden.

“Why would I do, your grace?”

“Maybe because I'm a bad husband,” he said quietly. You weren't understanding the game Aegon was playing and it was driving you crazy.

“I wouldn't dare do it. I have nowhere to go and I know I couldn't even get through the doors without your majesty noticing,” you replied.

The prince didn’t want pragmatic reasons like that, but rather his question was more aimed at whether it was your will to abandon him.

Against all odds a couple of raindrops began to fall and very soon a storm had already brewed over your head. It was useless to run, but you did it anyway and Aegon held your hand to prevent either of you from falling due to a trip. Somewhere along the way you lost one of your pumps and at this you began to laugh and he, infected by your joy, did the same. It amused you greatly to think of the face the queen would make when she saw you enter the castle, with her eldest son soaked from head to toe and your clothing incomplete. But you also laughed from the joy of feeling so alive in that moment. You felt like a girl playing in the rain and despite the coldness of the falling water, you felt a certain warmth traveling from the tips of your fingers to your chest.

Although he was sure that you were an excellent rider, your husband insisted on taking you on his own horse to avoid any accidents and you agreed without complaint. His body sheltered you all the way to the Red Keep and once there, under the roof, he helped you down from the chair with extreme care. You didn't think he was that strong until you felt him grab your waist and place you on the floor effortlessly.

“Ask the maids to prepare a bath for you, or you will catch a cold,” he said, putting on your back a cloak he had found hanging on one of the walls.

There was the hint of a smile on his face and seeing him behave like this towards you made you feel weird. You almost felt like he was trying to be affectionate with you, even though he wasn't quite succeeding.

“You should do the same,” you exclaimed softly.

Motivated by the kind moment you had shared, you reached out to brush away the wet hair that had stuck to his face and he shivered at your touch. It was the first time you touched him that way, out of conviction and with care.

“Your majesty, Lord Hand is looking for you. He says he needs to talk to you urgently."

“My grandfather,” he sighed at you, as if wanting to apologize for the words the guard behind you had just said.

He gave the man Moonshadow's reins and then explained that someone had to go get the horse you had left in the bay, so you assumed your presence there was no longer necessary. You were about to leave when he stopped you, grabbing your arm somewhat roughly and looking at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher.

“I'll go to your room tonight,” he informed.

You felt a little disappointed by the reality of having to share a bed with him, after so long without having done so, but you were grateful that he was at least warning you.

You nodded your goodbyes and he did the same, forming an unspoken agreement. You thought maybe that was why he had been polite to you, so he could get back under your bed sheets. But there was no point in doing it, he wasn't courting you to win your hand, but you were already his wife and he had made it very clear that he could do with you whatever he wanted.

Still a little confused, you were escorted to your bedroom, where you hoped that a tub with hot water and essences would be enough to appease all those doubts that were growing in you.

FIFTH ACT: LOVE

At some point Aegon would get tired of all this, you were sure. But while that moment arrived, you were thoroughly enjoying all kinds of attention you received from your husband. He kept his promise to bring golden roses for the gardens and although the queen wasn’t very happy, in the end they adorned some of the busiest sections of the place. You took that as an act of good faith, so you thought that maybe the thought of repaying him for some of the decency he was showing you wouldn't kill you.

There wasn’t a single breakfast that you skipped, except when the prince was required for political matters or had to travel. You were too proud to admit that you had begun to genuinely enjoy his company, as you still had some distrust due to how temperamental the man was. It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, as the young man still had some outbursts that made you fear him and reminded you that this was who you were really talking to.

His drinking habits hadn’t changed much, since although he was able to handle it during the first week after that period, it was inevitable that he would go back to his old ways and drink an entire jug of wine in a couple of minutes. With sex it was the same, because he continued to fuck you without signs of care and regularly when he was lost in drink. It amused you to think that perhaps that was the reason why you still didn't carry a child in your womb; that he was too drunk when you tried to be of any use.

However, as your relationship strengthened you could notice slight (you almost swore they were imaginary) changes when having sex. He was no longer as rough towards your body as before and tried to thrust into you a little slower, as if he wanted to lengthen the moment and not just unload into you and sleep like a baby after that. Maybe it was just that the drink made him lethargic, but he had even started seeking your lips in the middle of the act or kissing everything within reach of the skin on your neck. You didn't intend to spend much time analyzing his behavior because for you it already represented a victory that he had stopped hurting you after every time you had sex and, honestly, you didn't want to inquire about it. Once again you thought it was more prudent not to question the prince and simply let him continue behaving that way.

Until one night, things looked different for you.

When you heard your husband open the door, quite late at night, and saw him approach your bed, you knew that the same dynamic of nighttime visits would take place. Aegon, already hard as a rock, would kiss you a few times, undress, order you to undress, and then position on top of you to satisfy himself. Needless to say, under the confidence that being in the dark gave you and your husband's lack of interest, you looked away or concentrated on something else while your martyrdom was carried out. He would finish, lie naked next to you, and then sleep soundly with no memory the next morning of what had happened.

Aegon called your name, just to check that you were awake or otherwise wake you up, and you were surprised to hear that his voice sounded quite normal. He wasn't slurring his words like usual.

"Your grace?" you called back, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him.

He did what was expected and as soon as he was far enough away, he started kissing you. You must have known something was wrong from that first moment, when he grabbed your cheek with his wide hand and offered you the most passionate kiss you had ever had. It is reiterated that Aegon was always somewhat careless in intimacy, but this first contact hadn’t felt as impatient as others, but rather was something more careful and planned.

Only one other man had kissed you like that in your life and although the feeling brewing in your chest must have been pleasant, the truth was that it wasn't. You had endured too much abuse from the white-haired man so your body didn't know how to react otherwise. That's why when he continued kissing you for longer than usual and then laid you down meekly, you couldn't do anything but tense uncomfortably.

You were only in your nightgown so there wasn't much difficulty in sliding the straps to the side, almost exposing your tits. Suddenly Aegon lowered his kisses to your neck, where his stubble scratched your skin. Knowing that he would be busy in that area, you turned your head away to focus your gaze on a tapestry on the wall. However, you got a surprise when you felt the prince move away from you and then a bigger one when he took your face between his fingers, placing his index finger and thumb on each of your cheeks to force you to look at him. At first you thought there was anger in his eyes, but after looking at them for a second more you concluded that the feeling was more like that of someone insulted. And why? you asked yourself. What had you done that had offended the prince?

“Why are you looking away?”

His question had a certain aggressive tone, but, at the same time, he sounded hurt. With that you confirmed that he wasn’t drunk or that, if he was, he had drunk just enough to make him feel slightly dizzy. You couldn't tell the way your eyes looked at him, but Aegon interpreted your expression as one of disdain.

Unbeknownst to you, he had his own whirlwind of feelings inside him, one that was driving him crazy and causing him to look you up and down while still holding you. He’d never been like this on another night, so you were at the mercy of knowing how good or bad that would turn out.

Suddenly he seemed upset, you would even say disgusted, and surprisingly stood up from his position. The cold air hit you where he had been before and you sat on the bed to watch him, completely confused by the way he was behaving.

"What's going on…?"

“You don't want this,” he spoke firmly. It was obvious that you didn't want to and you wondered how he had barely realized it. “Not like that… I… no. Not this way"

His babbling confused you even more and when you saw him walk away with exaggerated steps until he left through the door, you couldn't help but feel totally amazed.

What was the reason for what your husband had just done?

The feeling of being abandoned was more hopeless than having him fuck you would have been, and for a moment you even felt ashamed. Maybe he didn't like you anymore or he would just go and cure his frustration in the bed of a woman you didn't know.

He had watched you very strangely and the whole scene wasn't like him. You even pinched yourself just to check that it wasn't some strange dream, getting a moan of pain in response to your question. You thought that perhaps you were acting impulsively, but barely a minute later you put on a green robe over your nightgown and headed towards the door, still not knowing exactly what you were going to do.

“Where are you going, your grace?” the guard on duty asked, putting his voluptuous body in your way.

“Prince Aegon, do you know where he went?”

“In that direction, your majesty. But I'm afraid I must recommend that you return to your room, it is dangerous to walk around the palace at this time."

“But I wish to see my husband,” you said firmly.

The man let out a sigh and then slid to the side of the hallway, leaving you a clear path. Even so, when you started walking you felt his footsteps following you because he probably wanted to make sure that something didn't happen to you. You walked for a while, but you knew it was useless when all you found were locked doors that you couldn't knock on and that you couldn't open either. If Aegon was in any of those rooms, you wouldn't know it. Defeated, you returned to your room and, as expected, found it empty again.

The next morning there wasn’t a single word about that event, but it was present in your mind throughout the day. You had already lived with him enough to realize that something was bothering him, however, upon noticing that he was less talkative during your usual breakfast, you decided to give him time.

You were about to leave the table when he stopped you, asking you to take your seat again and looking at you seriously.

“I have to travel for a couple of weeks,” he informed you. You were surprised to hear that he almost sounded sad “The king is required on some business and since my father can no longer travel, I will have to do it.”

“I hope the entire journey is favorable and the visit profitable, your grace,” you exclaimed cordially. However, your husband didn’t seem pleased with it.

One of his hands slid to hold yours, with a strength that surprised you. There was urgency in his grip, like he needed to hold on to something.

“Is that all you have to say?”

A couple of wrinkles appeared on your brow, as you clearly weren't understanding what he expected of you. Accompanying him would be reckless and you didn't know if he wanted you to keep him there at King's landing.

During those last months something had changed in the man's face, because those eyes surrounded by purple marks no longer saw you with the same aversion as the first time. And it disheartened Aegon that his attempts to please you were yielding no apparent fruit. He was giving you time, effort, and being kind to you like you had said was necessary, but he still couldn't help but feel that you still considered him a stranger.

He had been patient because he thought that, as time went by, you would begin to seek him out or not shy away from his touch. Aegon cared a lot about the physical, so every time he sneaked into your room he did so with the hope that you would welcome him with open arms and give yourself to him willingly. Countless nights he waited in his own room for you to show up to keep him warm and love him throughout the night. But it never happened and a part of him couldn't blame you either.

However, he was already tired of it. He wanted to make it clear to you that he not only wanted to give, but also receive. But forcing you to do anything would ruin everything; you had to want it.

“Have I said something that offended you, prince?”

“I just thought you would say you were going to miss me”

A laugh echoed in your throat at those words and for a second Aegon felt hurt, like you were mocking you. He was going to let go of your hand and walk away, insulted, but you squeezed his hand harder as a sign that you didn't want him to do that.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. I just didn't think that if I harbored feelings of that kind they would be of interest to your majesty."

“Do you miss me when you don't see me?” he asked now, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you “Or are you glad to have me away?”

You didn't know what those direct questions were about, because you didn't expect that a man like him would be plagued by uncertainty about knowing the answers.

“Not at all. I will always be willing to be with you whenever you want.”

“And you want to be with me?” he insisted.

“I think that what I want is not important”

“But I'm trying to make it so. I thought I was making it clear enough,”

He was angry, but not for the reasons you might think. It frustrated him that he was trying hard to improve and that your eyes continued to see him like that first time. Too many people were already observing him like that and he thought that, perhaps, since you were the most recent to do it, you could also be the first in whom he could manage to modify it.

You, however, were still too confused by his signs. Sometimes his attitude didn’t coincide with the intentions he had, since antipathy was often the only emotion with which he allowed himself to express and feel, accustomed to what he received during all his years of life.

All those months of effort were a direct product of the talk you had had with him, of that moment of weakness in which, instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, you had stayed with him. Aegon was aware that the treatment towards you was sometimes inhumane and he couldn’t explain how despite this you had wiped away his tears with such care, expressing nothing more than an act of integrity. Sometimes he even just imposed things on you to see if he could push you to the limit and he was surprised to see that you endured everything with honor and decency. You were good, something he could never be.

He didn't want to hear anything more and then let go of your hand, feeling rejected again.

"Majesty…"

"It's getting late. I have to go feed Sunfyre so he can endure the trip.”

“Will you travel by dragon?”

“How else would a Targaryen do it?” expressed obviously.

You were silent for a moment and then he stood up, ready to fulfill his obligations. In the afternoon he had already left, without emotional goodbyes or anything like that.

You had those weeks alone to reflect on everything that had been happening. You firmly believed that a cruel and evil person would always be that way, even if they hid it, because humans can’t change from one day to the next. Still, you had to allow Aegon the courtesy of admitting that he wasn't being a complete jerk lately.

You tried to think of any unpleasant moments with him during that week and although you found a couple, you realized that they had all been because of minor arguments or simply that one of the two of you had woken up in a bad mood. The hatred for the boy had been so ingrained in you that now it was difficult to decipher how much of it was due to things that were really happening and how much of it was a resentment carried from the past, at the beginning of that harmful relationship that existed between you.

He was no longer a mean man to you, he just sometimes had those logical slips for anyone who has never been taught to love. He didn't know how to care for you, how to talk to you, or even how to touch you properly. He had always existed alone and could still be seen reflected in his incessant desire for you to be the one to look for him, in his longing to know that you would miss him during his absence and in wanting you to look forward to his return. He wanted you to pay attention to him. He needed it.

One fine afternoon the vision of Sunfyre finally appeared in the bright blue of the sky, with you watching from the huge window of your room. He looked majestic, flying deftly and confidently with the rider above him grinning from ear to ear. Aegon had once confessed to you that he loved to fly on his dragon and he spoke about it with a devotion that completely touched you.

You thought about going to look for him, grateful that he had returned, but you were afraid that your presence would bother him or, in that case, that there would be murmurs about you. You didn't want to seem like a desperate wife so you thought it would be best to look for him at dinner time and in case he wanted to see you before, you stayed in your room all afternoon.

Once night fell, you put on one of your prettiest dresses and went to the royal dining room hoping to find him there, but it was in vain. Luckily one of the cooks had seen him and he told you that he was in his room, since he had ordered that something to eat and drink be brought there.

Determined, you made your way there and took a moment before entering. You hoped that the time away from King's landing had not hardened your lover's character, because it would be a shame to waste what you had built for some time and have to start over, or not do it at all, which would be even worse. Since there were no guards at the door, you were able to push the wood without any hindrance and then you saw it.

Aegon was sitting near the fireplace, his back to the entrance and leaning against a table that had a jug that you assumed was full (or not so full anymore) of wine. When he heard your footsteps he turned slightly and when he saw you, he kept a serene expression on his face.

“Hey,” he exclaimed quietly.

“The maids informed me that you were here” you explained and he nodded.

You noticed that he no longer wore his black doublet with the Targaryen emblem, he only kept the breeches of the same color and a mint-colored linen shirt that left part of his chest exposed. His white hair had some natural curls that fell delicately over her shoulders.

“Yeah. I don't feel like seeing my parents.”

“I understand” you assumed that if he hadn't wanted to see you he wouldn't have hesitated to tell you, so you approached him. Undecided whether you should greet him with a kiss or just stay to the side, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned a little to look at him “How was the trip?”

“It was good,” he responded with reluctance. “But my body feels completely crushed”

“Hm. It shows” you whispered, amused. The tension in his body was palpable and that's why you began to massage him, pressing hard just where he needed it. Aegon, feeling your skilled hands doing this, let out a satisfied grunt and leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

Doing that wasn’t something you had planned when you went there, it had only happened out of the heat of the moment and the reality that your husband's body was taking its toll on him for the hours he had spent riding his dragon.

With each passing second Aegon's burden felt lighter and lighter, wondering where you had learned those movements and how your hands were strong enough to exert the right pressure.

"Feel better?" you asked kindly and he nodded immediately, eyes still closed.

Suddenly one of your hands slid lower, towards his chest, to caress him. This time your fingers were light as feathers, sending an electrical current up and down the man's spine under your touch. No whore had ever touched him like that, with that force and at the same time so delicately.

But it was clear that you were not a whore. You were his wife.

“Come here,” he said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hand around your wrist and pulling you directly into his lap.

It was extremely painful to admit that he had missed you. He was physically frustrated because he hadn't dared to take any other woman in your absence. It had been a long time since he had frequented pleasure houses, since his appetite was awakened only by being with you.

What the hell had you done to him?

“The cook told me that you ordered some food, but I only see wine around here. Have you already eaten anything?”

“Mhmm,” he said absently. Your legs dangled to the side and one of his hands came up to your face, brushing your loose hair away from it. The other one surrounded you until it planted itself firmly on your belly. “Still no signs of anything?”

“Honestly, I don't know. The maesters can’t say with certainty… I am sorry”

“What if you are sterile?” the mere possibility of it made you nervous and you wondered what your fate would be if that was the case. Aegon didn't look so worried “What a disappointment for Alicent.”

You didn't know how to take that, because on the one hand it could be that your husband was amused by the irony of the matter and on the other hand it was that he would never have wanted to have children with you. For a moment you thought that the tranquility of the environment had been fragmented by this, but it turned out that the man couldn't care less. He was completely focused on your lips, almost as if hypnotized.

“I trust that is not the case, your grace. Just… it was a streak of bad luck.”

“I guess so,” he murmured nonchalantly. He was still watching your mouth when you spoke “But now I don’t care much about that.”

He carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you closer to shorten the distance, giving you an eager kiss that took your breath away. The hand that was on your waist pulled you closer to his body, leaving practically no separation between you and him. You could feel the desperation on his lips and in his touch, like he was eager to make you his. And at the same time, he was kissing you like he had never done before: it was sweet, yearning, passionate. You felt like he really wanted you.

He separated from you so you could breathe and, as best he could, he maneuvered to lift your body until he placed you on the table, where it was easier for him to place himself in the space between your legs. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck and wrapped one of your legs around his body.

“I longed for you. These weeks” you finally confessed. You heard him, and felt him, breathe more erratically at this because your words had fallen on him with the force of an axe.

From there, Aegon acted solely driven by the feeling of knowing that you had wanted to see him as much as he had wanted to see you.

His entire body leaned over you to kiss you, with the same urgency as at the beginning. While he did that he grabbed you by the lower back, pulling you until your body collided with his crotch which, if it wasn't already hard, wouldn't take long.

His kisses were clumsy due to urgency and after a while he moved away from your mouth to descend to your neck. Sometimes he left a kiss or two, at most, but this time he seemed to want to take his time. His tongue ran all over your skin, freshly washed, and he spread caresses without restraint. Every place the dragon's lips touched lit up with fire and his hips grinding against you weren't doing much for the blush on your cheeks. Inevitably you began to sigh from so many stimuli, right at the level of his ear, which only motivated him to continue.

As best he could he pulled the laces on the back of your dress and it didn't take long to get rid of the restraints. He slid one of your sleeves over your shoulder to begin kissing that section, the same way he had done with your neck. An indiscreet moan escaped you as your husband bit into your soft flesh and you could feel him smile against your skin.

“You're mine, right?” he sighed brokenly. You had tilted your head back to give him more space and he took the opportunity to lower the entire torso of your dress. “Only mine…”

With the same devotion he took care of your breasts and you couldn't do anything but continue alternating between sighs and some muffled moans. You could feel how he longed for you, eager to be able to kiss every inch of your skin even if it took him the entire night. Suddenly your body had become a temple, an object worthy of worship. The prince continued to distribute kisses that each time descended towards your belly, until with one hand he violently threw everything that was on the table and you ended up lying completely on it. Then he walked away.

You were about to ask what had happened when he took care of taking off your ballerina flats and throwing them somewhere far away in the room, only to stretch your leg up to the height of his torso to start kissing it. No one, not even him, had ever done that to you, so it was natural for you to be dismayed. His kisses moved quickly up your thigh and once he did that, he dropped to his knees in front of you. The skirt of your dress blocked your view and when you tried to get up something made you scream. Aegon had bitten into the tender flesh of your thighs, quite close to your crotch and with more force than he had hit your shoulder. You could only imagine his face when he carefully licked the mark he had surely left on you, once again making your chest exhale a moan.

What he did next and the sensation it caused, you could never have even imagined. That mouth, which most of the time was used for ironic puns and sloppy kisses, was now taking expert care of all of your pussy. Aegon was devouring you completely, touching just where it was necessary to make you squirm on the table. He wasn't careful at all; it was a touch hungry and extremely dirty.

You wanted to hold on as much as you could to keep yourself attached to reality, but it was difficult with your husband eating you like that. One of his arms wrapped around your leg and placed it over his shoulder, probably to give him better access. You had never moaned like that in his presence and it only made him harder and harder beneath the tight fabric of his breeches.

The pleasure was barely getting to your head when he stopped and a dissatisfied grunt escaped you shamelessly. Aegon laughed unabashedly at this, pleased at the control he had gained over you, and then went up again to kiss you hungrily. You couldn't do anything but welcome his salty lips and you moaned against him as he leaned against your body and you could feel his crotch, not knowing if it was your own wetness or his that was present.

He held you from behind and, without stopping kissing you, carried you until he placed you on the bed. You considered it somewhat unfair that your husband already had you trembling beneath him and still hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing, but your complaints were silenced when he hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head and took off his breeches in record time. In the same way, he pulled your dress towards your legs so that a second later it ended up on the floor, along with everything else.

He knelt down on the mattress and spread your legs roughly, lining himself up with your entrance. He began to rub the tip of his member up and down your already wet center and that did nothing but drive you crazy again.

When a delicate, pleading, «please» escaped your swollen lips, Aegon knew it was more stimulating to have you begging for him than to worry about only satisfying himself.

He played with you for a while longer, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of his delicate, pretty wife vibrating from having him close, until he finally plunged into you. For the first time there was enough wetness in you that the stroke felt satisfying rather than painful and both of you let out a delicious moan.

He set the pace, slow at first, but after a while his movements became more desperate. He wanted to get to the core of you, he wanted to fill you completely so you knew that only he could make you feel that way. When his body began to ache he leaned towards you, resting each of his arms on the side of your head and looking directly at you. You had stopped looking away from him, now you were looking at him with your mouth open with pleasure, your eyes watery and your pupils dilated on your completely flushed cheeks.

“Aegon,” you sobbed pathetically, clouded by everything you were experiencing and proving that it wasn't long before you reached your orgasm.

You had never called him by his name. You always referred to him as «your grace», «prince» or «husband», at best. So hearing his name come out of your lips like that, under those circumstances, was too much for him to bear.

Knowing that he couldn't last much longer, one of his hands moved down to rest his thumb on your clit and once there he began to make erratic circles. You closed your eyes, completely seized by pleasure and a couple more thrusts were enough to make you lose the battle. Hearing your whimpers, combined with the way your walls squeezed him, was enough to make him cum too. With trembling legs you felt the warm liquid filling you and, for the first time, it was comforting.

When Aegon plopped down next to you, you immediately missed his body warmth. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to catch the breath that the orgasm had taken from you. You could clearly feel your heartbeat bouncing off your bare chest and the stinging sensation coming from your crotch and running through your entire body was something you could get used to. Your hair had stuck to your face from the sweat and not to mention your lips, which you felt were burning from your husband's attention.

Aegon had already had many orgasms in his life so this time he decided to turn his gaze a little to see you enjoying yours. The mere idea that he was responsible for your condition made him completely shake.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. You thought he had heard wrong because of the rush, but from the way he was smiling at you, you highly doubted it. “Just like that”

“Like what?”

“Freshly fucked. Well fucked” he corrected himself.

A laugh bubbled up from within you and you blushed even more, if that was possible, perhaps from the nerves and elation of what had just happened. The man stood up a little from his seat and leaned down to kiss you, although this time he did it with a calm and affection that you never thought you would see in him. It was just that he couldn't deny it anymore; from that moment on he would become an open book for you, where you could see all his feelings, desires and fears.

“I don't know why you're doing this,” you suddenly murmured and Aegon pulled away enough to look at you “And I don't know why you've been acting like this these past few months. But I like it. I think it's a good time for you to know."

“You said I could choose who I am,” he said meekly. One of his hands grabbed your chin and stole another fleeting kiss from you. “I haven't forgotten, every word is present in my head. It's just... sometimes it's hard. And I thought I would have a better chance with you, even with the things I did to you when we got married”

You smiled at him and were happy to know that the change in his behavior was because of the talk you once had with him. If he continued like this, ignoring the demons inside him and trying to be better, then your marriage had a chance to become more than just a condemnation.

Driven by the pleasant feeling growing in your chest you reached out towards him to reward him with a kiss. The man's breath hitched when you pushed him to the side and reversed roles, now you being the one pampering him while he was lying down. There was a playful glint in your husband's eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you know this is the first time you kissed me?” he exhaled softly.

You couldn't believe that was possible and for a few seconds you tried to remember so you could contradict him. But every time you remembered you realized that it was always him who initiated the contact to which you only responded, so, effectively, it was the first kiss you gave him out of conviction.

Maybe it was an omen that something good was coming.

Still happy with how everything had turned out, you snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest while he hugged you and threw a sheet over your bodies. You planted a hand on his bare skin and began drumming your fingers, alternating with small circles made with the greatest delicacy.

You were silent for a long time, you even thought that your husband had fallen asleep until you heard him speak again:

“It's also the first time I'm doing this.”

“Are you talking about sex, your grace?”

“No, I'm talking about cuddling,” he confessed softly, his hand caressing your back the same way you did with him, “And don't call me your majesty anymore. I am Aegon. Or my prince, at any rate. But my is important”

With the affection worthy of a wife, you raised your head to place a kiss on his cheek and assured him that from now on you would call him that in the privacy of your chambers.

Suddenly, after another moment of silence, Aegon pulled you close to him as if afraid you were going to suddenly evaporate. Intending to calm his fears, you climbed until you were on top of his body, hiding your head in his neck so that the distance became minimal.

There was silence for another couple of minutes.

“Do you think I can ever be forgiven?”

Apparently the atmosphere of the moment had managed to soften the boy's heart.

“We can all be absolved, Aegon.”

"And you?"

"Me what?"

“Do you think you can ever love me?” you were quiet for a second, thinking about your response. Then, he added “Or could you at least try? It would be a nice detail for me. No one has ever done it before.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood with a false word you decided to kiss his neck gently and that was enough of an answer for him. He would have to trust in your goodwill and that he could continue to restrain his impulses to keep this newly discovered gem that was his wife. With some luck you could even be that person he prayed for so much all his life, one with whom he could feel safe.

The slowing of the man's breathing revealed to you that he had already fallen asleep and you discovered that it seemed not so bad to find yourself in that position, sheltered by your lover's arms.

Under that scenario, the idea of eventually loving Prince Aegon Targaryen no longer sounded so far-fetched.

[multific]

A Spell of Love

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Desperate for Aegon’s love, you cast a small enchantment, hoping to make him see you the way you have always seen him.

The Red Keep is cold.

Not in temperature but in feeling. On the way, you drift through its halls unnoticed.

You are Aegon’s queen. His wife. And yet, he does not see you.

Not truly.

You had not been naïve enough to believe he would love you right away. It was a political marriage, a duty he had no say in, but still, you hoped. Hope that maybe, with time, with care, he would turn his gaze toward you and see you.

But weeks turned into months, and Aegon remained distant.

He spent his days drowning in council meetings and his nights drowning in wine. He spoke to you only when necessary, touched you only when duty demanded it, and each passing moment felt like another stone added to the weight in your chest.

So, with no options left, you turned to magic.

It was not a great spell, just a whisper of influence, a tiny nudge to his heart.

You did not seek to control him, only to open his eyes, to make him look at you the way you had always dreamed of.

The spell worked.

Oh, gods, it worked too well.

At first, you thought nothing of it. Aegon’s behaviour changed little by little.

He lingered when you spoke, his eyes tracking your every move. When his hand brushed yours at the dinner table, he did not pull away. It felt natural at first, a slow and steady change, the kind of love you had hoped for.

Then, it became more.

He began to seek you out, not just in the evenings, but in the mornings, in the afternoons, in moments where he would never have spared you a glance before.

He refused to leave your side, a shadow at your back, his fingers ghosting over your skin whenever he had the chance. You woke one night to find him watching you.

"Aegon?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

His hand slid down to your throat, then over your heart, pressing gently, as though making sure you were real.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice raw and desperate. "I can’t think when you’re not here. Can’t breathe."

Your heart twisted painfully.

This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? For him to crave you.

But something was wrong.

His devotion was too sudden, too intense.

Love should bloom like spring, but this was wildfire, all-consuming and uncontrollable.

And as he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead as if worshipping you, the horror settled in your bones.

You had not made him love you.

You had made him need you.

The next day, as he followed you, you tried to keep your voice steady. "Aegon," you said softly, stopping in an empty corridor. "You’ve been… different."

He gave you a lazy, lopsided smile, though there was something sharp behind it. "Different how?"

"You never used to spend so much time with me," you said carefully. "But now, you barely let me out of your sight."

His expression darkened, his fingers tightening around your wrist. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, that’s not what I meant," you stammered. "I just-"

His grip loosened immediately, and something like guilt flashed in his eyes. "I can’t help it," he admitted, voice hoarse. "I wake up thinking of you. I dream of you. Even when I close my eyes, you’re there. Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll let you go."

Tears pricked your eyes. He didn’t know. He thought this was real.

It should have been real.

But it wasn’t. And it was your fault.

That night, while Aegon slept beside you, his arms locked around you, his breath warm against your skin, you made your choice.

The spell had to be broken.

It took hours of whispered incantations, of gathering the right herbs, of steadying your shaking hands.

The moment the final words left your lips, a strange silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating.

Then, Aegon stirred.

His eyes fluttered open, and when they met yours, something changed.

For the first time in weeks, the madness behind his gaze was gone. The storm had settled.

And so you were able to let out a long breath.

You braced yourself for anger. For betrayal. For the realization that, without magic, Aegon would return to what he had been before.

But instead, he stayed.

His brows furrowed as he sat up, rubbing at his temple. "What did you do?"

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. "I broke it."

Aegon blinked at you, still drowsy, confused. "Broke what?"

You swallowed hard, your throat thick with guilt. "The spell."

Silence.

A heavy, terrible silence.

His face was unreadable. "A spell?" His voice was hoarse as if he didn’t quite understand the words yet. "You did this to me?"

"I just wanted you to see me," you choked out, the weight of your regret crushing you. "I was selfish. I’m so, so sorry."

Aegon exhaled shakily, running a hand down his face. "You think I didn’t?" His voice was raw. "You think I wasn’t already falling for you?"

"I didn’t know how to show it," he muttered, shaking his head. "And then, suddenly, I needed you more than air, more than life. And it scared me because I knew it wasn’t normal. But the thing is... I already loved you."

Your heart stopped.

"I should be furious," he admitted. "But gods help me, I can’t be. Because I still love you."

You let out a broken sob. "Aegon-"

He reached for you, his hands holding your face as his thumbs wiped away your tears. "Tell me the truth," he murmured, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him. "Did you love me before the spell?"

"Yes," you whispered. "Of course I did."

Aegon let out a breath that sounded like relief, and then he kissed you.

Slow, deep, not a spell, not a curse, but something real.

His lips moved against yours with reverence, his hands gentle yet firm as he pulled you closer. And for the first time, you let yourself believe in it.

This was love.

Not magic.

Just him.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ceoofglytchell]

A safe bet

Summary: During a night out with his friends, Aegon drunkenly makes a bet with one of them that he can charm a woman without even needing to bed her- he set his sights on you, a merchant’s daughter with a heart of gold. The only problem? You are not going to give in to his charms so easily.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x merchant’s daughter!Reader

Word count: 8596 words

Warnings: mdni, no descriptions for the Reader except that you are female and have longer hair, manipulation, canon typical misogyny, aegon is an ass at first, slight angst, aeg being a pervert, suggestive thoughts, infidelity, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), no mention of Y/N

Notes: Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛

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The air was heavy with the smell of roasted meat and stale beer, the floor was slippery with spilled beer and old straw. The clatter of wooden mugs and the quiet murmur of voices was mixed with occasional laughter, the clinking of coins and the creaking of the inn door opening.

At the very back, in one of the furthest corners of the tavern, sat Aegon of House Targaryen with three of his friends, Leon, Eddard and Martyn. All of them were drunk and the ones who slurred the loudest in the vast interior of the building and shouted something to each other, even though they were sitting right next to each other. On the wooden table where they had sat down a few hours ago, there were a few empty vessels that had once held the sweet wine from the Arbor, and their cups were all almost empty again.

One of them, Martyn, let his partially blurred gaze wander around the rooms until they landed on a couple who were simply talking. No inappropriate touching of any kind, no heated or sweet kisses, nothing. When was the last time either of them had such a connection?

His gaze wandered to Aegon, the prince he was friends with, and he noticed how he was simply staring into his cup. His loud laughter from earlier had died down. He deserved some good female company. But under one condition.

The redhead leaned forward and tugged on the black sleeve of his tunic. He might be a prince, but whenever he went out with them into the streets of King's Landing, he wore the clothes of the common people to blend in better with the crowd and of course to avoid being recognized. Silver hair quickly gives away any Targaryen.

"What?" grumbled Aegon, looking over the rim of his cup, which had now been emptied for the sixth time. He was drunk, but not enough to forget his inner loneliness. All the feelings that were building up inside him. He hated it to death.

"Let's make a bet," suggested the heir to House Reyne, whereupon the other two men at the table tapped the wood in agreement. The evening had just become boring.

"What kind of bet are you talking about?" asked the silver-haired man, leaning back comfortably in his seat. Bets could be fun, meanwhile. He had more than enough gold and he was open to anything that didn't remind him of the duties that weighed on his shoulders and were slowly but surely crushing him under their weight.

"One of the fun nature," Martyn replied with an almost triumphant grin on his lips, as if he had already won the bet without even revealing what he had in mind.

"I am all ears," the prince replied, and indeed he was interested in whatever the man had in his mind and what he would offer him. After all, every good bet came with a price.

"You always tell us that there is no woman you cannot charm, no lady who cannot resist your advances..."

Aegon nodded, actually feeling a little pride growing inside him. It was true that whenever he set his eyes on a pretty lady, he usually got her, but he had half of that to his incredible talent for dexterity, his gold, and his cock.

"But I was wondering how a lovely maiden would react to you if you weren't allowed to lay a hand on her?" Martyn finally finished with a grin.

The prince leaned back in his seat, licking his lips. Whatever bet his friend had thought of, it didn't seem to be as fun as he had hoped. Well, for him at least.

"You want me to seduce a woman, but without touching her?"

"Exactly! You are not allowed to touch, kiss or fuck her. Show us how talented you really are, your highness," the redhead explained, while Leon elbowed him in the side, laughing, satisfied with the idea his friend had thought up while they were drinking.

"You would have a week and could choose the girl freely. On the last day we will meet here again and you will introduce us to your new sweetheart. Let's see, maybe you will keep the sweet dove this time too!"

He rolled his eyes and sighed once, but even though he was pretending to find this bet annoying, he found the premise exciting. He had never tried it before and he wanted to know if he could do it. But what if he couldn't? He hated rejection, even if this woman would be nothing more than a bet for him. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Fine, but next week it's your turn," grumbled the prince before he got up from their table, snatching his cup in his hand.

Aegon walked through the tavern with a sharp eye, looking for a pretty lady who he was willing to not leave behind after one night. He would have to make an effort with her.

His violet eyes briefly fell on a waitress, but she was missing that certain something. He was looking for a spark, a glitter, something that would attract him like a moth to a flame. For a moment he wasn't sure if he would find it, but then his eyes fell on... you.

You were alone in a small alcove in a dark corner of the tavern and looked down at the table where a piece of paper lay with writing on it, but he couldn't quite make out what it was written about. You seemed to be one of the well-read types, but at the same time you had a face that reminded him of a statue. Beautiful and elegant.

With a flame of determination shining in his eyes, he approached you, rocking slightly on his feet.

He hadn't even spoken to you yet, but his choice had already been made. You were the right one.

He plopped down on the seat opposite you without announcing himself or asking, a smug grin on his lips. You looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes and in that moment he was already sure that he wouldn't need the whole week. If he was lucky, you would be his by the end of the night.

"Can I help you?" you asked him in such a gentle voice that it felt like a warm blanket was being draped around his shoulders.

You were perfect.

"Tell me, what is such a pretty dove like you doing alone in a place like this on a night like today?" asked the silver-haired prince without answering your question. He was now a man on a mission.

You blinked, your eyelashes repeatedly touching the soft skin of your cheeks, which were slightly flushed. He wasn't sure if they had already taken on a pink tone before or if he was the cause. He liked the latter thought more.

"I am enjoying myself," you answered him after a brief moment of awkward silence. In the darkness of the tavern and the fact that he had pulled a hood over his face, you could hardly see what was underneath. But his eyes... either the flickering candle on the table deceived your vision or he had purple eyes.

Either this man was a dragon seed or an actual member of House Targaryen.

With a small chuckle, he leaned forward and snatched the piece of paper you had been reading up to that point: "That doesn't look like much amusement to me."

Aegon ran his eyes over the curved writing, but he didn't understand much of it. It seemed to be about money.

"Are you a whore?" he asked you, whereupon your eyes widened and you immediately snatched the page from his hands.

How dare he? Even your shoulders were covered and he called you a whore? Outrageous.

"What are you thinking? My father is a merchant. He can't read. I help him keep track of things," you explained to him as you tucked the page into the pocket of your coat, which was lying on the wooden bench next to you. It was warm enough inside that you could sit there in your long-sleeved dress.

"Huh..." He leaned back, running his thumb over the edge of his empty mug. Your helpfulness might come in handy at some point. "Does he not have a son?"

A sigh escaped you and you folded your arms over your chest as you eyed him critically. "If I had a brother, he would help him, right?"

He raised his hands in defeat to show you that he understood. Maybe you weren't as naive as he had thought at the beginning. But he actually liked that fact better. You had bite.

"Are you married?" he asked then, unable to contain his curiosity.

In response, you simply stretched out your delicate hands and laid them flat on the table in front of him. Not a single ring adorned your slender fingers. You were still unmarried. Perfect.

"And I assume you're not promised either, otherwise you would never be sitting here alone reading some junk," said the king's firstborn son with a triumphant glow in his eyes.

With every second that passed, however, you were losing patience with this man whose name you didn't even know. A part of you was curious and wanted to know more about him, but the far more rational part of you simply urged you to stand and walk away.

“Why do you care, my Lord?” you asked him with a long sigh.

“What makes you think I’m a Lord?”

You smiled at him and in that moment he could feel two things: firstly, how his heart contracted unpleasantly and secondly, how something stirred in his breeches. You were not only beautiful, but your clever and bold manner also attracted him, excited him.

“You try to hide it, but it’s there. I can see it in your eyes. Common eyes don’t lose their shine so quickly,” you answered thoughtfully and he immediately recognized something he could start with.

He cleared his throat: “No, you’re right. I am a Lord. A prince, even, if you want to know for sure. And one who offers you his company.”

A small giggle escaped your rosy lips and he watched you as you rose from the table and looked at him with a playful twinkle in your eyes.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said and gave him a deep bow before walking past the table out of the tavern, your hips gently swinging left and right.

From the side he heard Martyn, Leon and Eddard laughing loudly as he leaned back in his seat and stroked his crotch, which pressed uncomfortably against the dark fabric of his trousers.

He wanted you. He had to have you.

That night he fucked a girl in one of the many brothels on the Street of Silk who vaguely reminded him of you. She had the same hair that his soft, smooth skin and he was sure your cunt must be just as tight.

The next evening, he hoped to find you in the tavern again, but you weren't there. Why would you? You didn't seem to be a drunkard, nor were you a whore.

He walked over to the bar and leaned against the wooden counter, wondering whether to order Arbor Red or a Dornish wine. But suddenly an idea struck him.

He waved the bartender over to him. "The woman who was sitting at the table in the corner yesterday. Do you know her?"

The older man raised one of his eyebrows. There was something in his eyes. Something that let him know that he actually knew you. Wonderful.

"I know her father. Kind girl. A rare beauty. What do you want from her?" the man asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"That's none of your business. Do you know where she might be? It's of great urgency."

The older man laughed softly before shaking his head. "Take a look at the market. Maybe you'll find her there."

The young prince nodded, turned around and hurried out of the tavern. He had six days left to seduce you and after those six days he would show you exactly what it meant to enjoy his company.

Even at this late hour the market square was full and all kinds of figures were rushing around. Loud music was playing, laughter echoed through the darkness and in some alleys lovers or lustful people had retreated to show each other passion. This was where Aegon felt at home. All these people were free and could do whatever they wanted. It was pure freedom.

And then he saw you. You were standing next to a few other women and seemed to be gossiping happily. The dress you were wearing revealed your shoulders and collarbone and he longed to see what was still hidden under the fabric.

One of your friends elbowed you in the side and when you looked to the side you saw him again. The prince. Prince Aegon, as you found out. You had given his description to a lady from the Street of Silk and she had been able to answer immediately.

"Is that him?" one of your friends, Eryn, asked you with a mischievous grin. She was already married and often and happily told you about her and her husband's bed stories. She just wanted you to be happy.

"Who?" you asked instead, looking at the goods on the stand you were standing at. Treasures and carvings from Essos.

"Your secret admirer!" she whispered excitedly, while you just rolled your eyes.

"He is not my secret admirer. He is the prince. And the one who, if I may say, is known for having slept with every whore in King's Landing," you replied instead.

"Shhhh, he's coming!"

The other women moved away a little as Aegon approached you with a grin on his face. He already seemed confident of victory, but you wouldn't give in so easily. Not to someone like him. After all, you now knew exactly who he was.

"Good evening, dove," he greeted you confidently.

"Your Grace," you answered instead playfully and perhaps with a small hint of annoyance in your otherwise melodic voice.

"You were not at our table."

You immediately raised your eyebrows and your expression changed to amusement. "Our table?"

Aegon nodded his head in confirmation: "Yes, in the tavern. In the corner."

You had to hold back from rolling your eyes. You knew very well which table he meant, but you hadn't known that it was your table. This was new and you didn't know how to feel about it.

"Why are you here, Prince Aegon?" you asked him, explicitly mentioning his name so that he would know that you knew exactly who he was. That and so much more.

A small, almost flattering smile played around the corners of his mouth at your question. He seemed to like the fact that you had apparently asked about him. The thought alone made him feel warm and tingly.

"I wanted to see you," he replied with a shrug, letting his eyes roam over your features.

"You wanted... to see me?" you asked inside as you walked a few steps further, letting your hand run over some fabrics. They had probably been imported from Lys by traders. If you were richer, you would only wear such beautiful fabrics. So you couldn't understand why he, a prince, was walking around voluntarily as if he were a commoner from Flea Bottom.

"Yes," he answered you without hesitation, "I offered you my company and you said you would accept it on another day. Today is a beautiful evening, don't you think?"

A small sigh escaped you again and you couldn't help but let a small smile play around the corners of your mouth. He was amusing, you had to give him that. Amusing and persistent.

"And what do you intend to do, Your Highness? I would certainly be the ugly duckling at a ball," you said, putting your hands on your hips.

You wouldn't be. He quickly bit his tongue to stop these words from escaping. Even in your current, rather simple and partly time-worn dress, you would be a lot more beautiful than most of the ladies at court. And you were free. A luxury he always longed to have. Slowly he began to understand that he not only desired you, but also the life you led.

You symbolized his hopes and dreams.

"I don't know. We could go for a drink? Maybe our table is still free?" he suggested with a mischievous smile on his lips.

A few meters away from you, you heard your friends giggling, and when you looked over at them, you saw them nodding happily at you. This fact alone made you want to reject him even more. It wouldn't be wrong to make him wait a little, would it?

"Forgive me, my prince, but I just remembered that my father still needs my help," you said quickly. A lie.

"Now?" Aegon asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Now," you clarified and walked straight past him, your shoulders brushing slightly. You were about to disappear behind another market stall when you suddenly felt him grab your wrist to stop you. His fingers were warm and his skin surprisingly soft. You wondered if he had ever held a sword in his life.

"Wait... Please," he said quietly and the look in his amethyst colored eyes, so pleading and almost vulnerable, made you want to listen to him instead of tearing yourself away from him.

"Yes? What is it?" you asked, the words coming out a little harsher than you actually intended.

"Where will I find you tomorrow? Please?"

Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a gentle smile, which hopefully had a calming effect on him. You didn't want to scare him away. Somehow you liked him and these conversations, even though you knew who he was and where he was supposed to be right now.

"The southern side of the Kingswood. We will go for a walk together," you answered him before you freed your wrist from his grip and turned around and disappeared into the crowd of people.

Aegon Targaryen, the second of his name, looked after you with a longing look and he swore to himself that at the end of the seven days he would not only have won the bet, but also gained your genuine affection.

The summer sun shone warmly on your face as you sat on a fallen tree trunk at the edge of the forest, waiting for the prince who wouldn't leave you alone. You wore a slightly looser dress, which gave you plenty of freedom of movement, and a cloak over it. You also had a bag slung over your shoulder with some food you could eat. A few apples, grapes and bread with some cheese. It would have to be enough.

He appeared as the morning sun turned to midday sun and you began to wonder if he had gotten lost. He hadn't. Aegon had stolen a horse from the royal stables and ridden the distance to the forest and the place you had told him. It was more comfortable for him than walking and maybe you would allow him to take you home later.

You looked up in surprise when you heard the sound of galloping hooves approaching the edge of the forest. A brown horse came to a stop not far from you and its rider jumped from the saddle with a wide grin on his face.

Aegon wore a blue tunic, black trousers and a black cloak that he left open. His boots came just below his knees and his silver hair was ruffled by the wind.

He looked good. Quite good.

"My lady!" he called happily as he landed on the sandy ground of the forest path and joined you.

"I remind you, my prince, I am not a lady. I am simply a woman you find pleasing," you reminded him with a smile as you stood up from the tree trunk and walked over to him.

"Guilty. How are you today?" he asked you and this time it was not just to be polite. He actually cared about your well-being.

"Quite well. And you?"

"I have never been better," he said with a grin before he gently took you by the elbow and led you into the forest.

All around you you could hear the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, cracking branches and in the distance the sound of a stream. The atmosphere was beautiful and calming at the same time and surprisingly peaceful with him by your side. You hadn't expected that. You were pleasantly surprised.

"What do you have in here?" he asked himself and touched the brown bag that was hanging around your shoulder. His curiosity was contagious and you began to enjoy his company.

"Something to eat. In case we get hungry," you explained with a smile on your lips. In the hustle and bustle of the city everything was always so tense and loud, but here in the wilderness around the city she could enjoy the peace and quiet.

"You are too kind," he said and reached into the bag, where he pulled out a ripe apple and immediately bit into it, the juice of the fruit running down the corners of his mouth.

A small smile formed on your lips and you couldn't help but shake your head in amusement. The prince was incorrigible and you enjoyed it very much. A small part of you hoped that he enjoyed your presence too.

"You like apples, I assume?" you asked him as you looked over at him and saw that he was munching on a piece of apple with relish.

Aegon grinned and looked over at you, and you could see a small blush on his pale face: "I like anything sweet."

He seemed particularly proud of that comment. You, however, rolled your eyes exaggeratedly and jabbed your arm into his side, causing him to gasp loudly and drop the rest of his apple to the ground.

"Hey! Unfair!" he shouted angrily, causing you to let out a hearty laugh.

The two of you continued walking for a while until you reached a river. The water was clear and, compared to the warm air that surrounded you, it seemed cool and soothing. The prince rummaged through your bag while you gently stroked the water with one hand.

What you didn't know, however, was that Aegon's violet eyes followed your gentle movement the entire time. A lump formed in his throat as he understood that the sight of your delicate hands made his body warmer and his imagination imagined how a touch of yours would feel on his body. But he couldn't do it. He had a bet to lose and you would probably never let him touch you. Not yet.

But of course you would notice sooner or later.

"You're staring," you simply commented, making the future king flinch slightly and immediately clear his throat.

A small part of him wanted to deny it and tell you instead that he was looking at the river, but at the same time he still had a mission and a personal desire to have you.

"How could I not? Your beauty is breathtaking," Aegon answered you after a moment and even though it sounded like mere seduction, it was much more than that. It was the truth. You were beautiful.

You blinked in surprise and for a moment you didn't know what to say to him. It was a compliment, yes, but was it serious? You couldn't have known.

"Thank you, my prince. I'm honored," you said quietly, wiping your hands on the skirt of your dress.

"I'm serious, you know. My reputation precedes me, but I actually think you're beautiful, my lady. A silver swan in a pond full of ducks."

Your cheeks flushed and you looked back at the water, hoping he wouldn't see. Apparently he still had the talent to be charming and it actually worked. He managed to make you blush.

"Stop," you whispered under your breath, more to yourself and your own body than to him, who was sitting not far away from you.

A quiet chuckle escaped the king's eldest son and he shook his head gently, the silver strands of his hair falling over his face, as they often did. He didn't comb it too often. If he did, it was before big feasts or when his mother demanded it with a slap on his cheek.

"Never, darling. Making you blush is all I want," he said, grinning.

A sigh escaped you and you stood up from your place by the river and offered him your hand. "We should slowly return, Your Highness. My father still needs me and I think that the Red Keep is missing a certain person."

Aegon looked at you with wide eyes for a moment before he took your hand and slowly stood up too. The feeling of holding your delicate hand in his almost drove him mad and he had to hold himself back from pulling you against him and kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

You were driving him crazy.

"Fine, we'll go back. Or- I have a horse? I could take you home?" he offered, handing you your bag, which was only half full anymore.

You smiled and slung the brown leather bag back over your shoulder. "You just want to know where exactly in the city I live."

Still holding your hand in his, he led you to the exit of the forest, where his horse was still waiting for him, eating some of the grass that grew on the ground.

"Perhaps," he replied as he took the reins and watched you climb into the saddle without help and look down at him with a playful gleam in your eyes.

He swung himself onto the saddle of the brown horse behind you without further ado and wrapped his arms around your waist, humming softly as he felt the warmth of your body against his own. He would have to concentrate not to get hard now. However, his body had always been full of pleasure and reacted to the smallest of movements. And you... you were something very special.

You leaned your back against his chest and allowed yourself to relax as you rode back to King's Landing together.

Nature passed by you and the gates of the capital of the Seven Kingdoms came ever closer. It seemed as if the sky was instinctively darkening and as if everything was immediately becoming more dreary and desolate. The small folk in the market and on the dirty streets looked up in confusion or jumped aside as a horse suddenly galloped past them, carrying a Targaryen and a woman.

"Right up here, my prince," you said, pointing to the wooden front door of a small and nondescript house. The only thing that set it apart from the others were the plants on the windowsills. A work of yours to make the sight less desolate.

Aegon brought the horse to a stop and you slid gracefully from the saddle, but before you rushed straight into the house to see how your father was doing, you looked back at him one more time.

The way he sat on the horse and looked down at you as if you were a star in the evening sky, you realized that he must be serious about you. If he looked at every whore like that, then every one of them must think that she was loved by a prince.

"Good day... Aegon," you said before finally turning around and disappearing into the pleasant interior of your house.

And Aegon? He sighed and rode to the tavern where you first met, where he got drunk to the point of unconsciousness.

The next morning, you were woken up by the sound of someone knocking on the door of your room. Sleepy, with disheveled hair and wearing only your nightgown, you opened the door and your father stood in front of you. He was already dressed as if he was ready to go to his market stall, but it was much too early for that. The sun had not even come out over Visenya's hill yet.

"Father?" you asked sleepily, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"There is someone here for you," he said, nodding towards the front door.

Confused and still not fully conscious because you had been sleeping so peacefully, you went to the front door and opened it. Your eyes widened when Aegon stood in front of you, but this time not in dirty clothes so as not to attract attention, but in a beautiful green doublet and a gold chain that fell around his neck. His silver hair was brushed and he had a bag at his side.

"Aegon? It's still early," you said, smiling gently at him.

"I brought you something," he said bluntly, handing you the bag.

Confused, you took it and looked inside, and what you saw made you look at him with wide eyes. In the brown bag was a beautifully embroidered green dress with some gold details on the sleeves, neckline and waist. It was more beautiful than anything you had seen at the market before, and the fabric was one of the velvety Lys fabrics you loved so much.

"My prince, I... I don't know what to say," you told him, resisting the urge to jump into his arms and press a kiss to his cheek.

"You can thank me by getting ready and coming with me now," he replied, looking at you with an amused twinkle in his purple eyes, which seemed darker than they actually were in the dim morning light.

"What are you planning?" you asked him, suddenly wide awake.

"You are a Lady today and you are accompanying me back to the Red Keep. I would like to show you around."

You nodded your head and hurried back inside, where you cleaned yourself as quickly as you could, got dressed, and tied your hair into a braid. You then hurried back to him and the moment you opened the door, Aegon knew he would never be able to look at his sister-wife again knowing that a woman like you existed.

He wanted you. If he didn't know better, he would actually say that you could have been a lady of the House of Tyrell. You were a sight of true beauty and grace.

"May I?" he asked with a mischievous smile on his lips before bowing slightly and holding out a hand to you.

"Why so polite, Your Grace?" you asked him with a grin as you took his hand in yours and allowed him to lead you back to his horse.

Still smiling, he placed his hands on your hips and lifted you effortlessly onto the horse's saddle before climbing behind you. "Believe it or not, I have manners."

"Oh, really?"

He shook his head and kicked the brown horse in the sides with his heel so that the horse would immediately ride off. Like the day before, you rode through the streets together, but this time you didn't stop in the dirty streets of the Small Folk, but in the courtyard of the Red Keep.

Knights, lords and ladies looked up in surprise when the usually drunk and lustful prince returned accompanied by a fine lady. None of them knew you, but at the same time none of them suspected who you really were. Your disguise was perfect.

He showed you the stables, the training yard where his younger brother Aemond was training with a Dornish-looking man, the throne room and then he led you to the kitchens, where with your help he stole a few pieces of lemon cake, which you ate together in the shade of a tree with red leaves.

You had never seen Aegon laugh so freely and carefree when a leaf fell and got tangled in your hair or you noticed that you had been crumbling on your lap the whole time.

The sun shone on your faces and it felt peaceful.

At one point he moved closer to you and reached out his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You instinctively leaned into his touch and in that moment you too realized that he was no longer annoying you, that you wanted to be close to him and that he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen.

You were in love. And with a prince from the House of Targaryen of all people.

"If you could go anywhere, anywhere you like, where would you go?" Aegon asked you while his head rested on your lap and he looked up at you with curious eyes.

Your fingers gently stroked his locks while you held a flower to your nose with your other hand. It smelled sweet and, for some reason, healthier than the plants you collected to decorate your house.

"I don't know. I actually like the Keep. It seems peaceful here," you answer him with a quiet sigh.

"If only you knew," the prince replied and closed his eyes, enjoying your touch on his hair. The court was certainly not peaceful. It was dangerous, full of intrigue and deadly. You shouldn't be in such a place. Only with him. He would be able to protect you. Somehow.

"And you? Where would you go?" you asked him after a moment of silence.

"Essos. It's far from here and very different," he answered you without hesitation. He seemed to have thought about it many times.

"And what would you be there if not the Prince of Westeros?" you asked him with a hint of curiosity in your otherwise gentle tone.

Aegon shrugged. He wasn't quite sure. He often dreamed of running away and being free, but he never thought about what he would actually do if he managed to do it.

"I don't know exactly. I would just be free,” he finally answered you and you could tell from the look on his face that he was telling the truth. Besides, he had no reason to lie to you anymore.

“You could work in a tavern and serve people wine?” you suggested.

A grin formed on his lips: “But only if I can pour myself a cup too.”

You couldn’t help but giggle and gently tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. You liked him a lot when he was like that. Not arrogant, stuck up or about to seduce you. You liked him when he was himself.

“I don’t think that would be a problem,” you replied after a moment.

The look in his eyes softened and he carefully reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, where he left a small kiss on the back of your hand before resting his cheek against your palm. Your heart leapt in your chest and you knew you could no longer lie to yourself.

With every moment that passed, with every gesture he made for you, you fell a little more in love with the prince.

And he fell in love with you too.

Day five started out normally for you. You walked through the market square with your friends, wearing one of your old dresses, because out here you were nothing more than a merchant's daughter. You were not the lady he wanted to make you into, even though you enjoyed it. Very much.

You hadn't decided on a place where you would meet today, if you met again, but you were also aware that he knew exactly where you lived, and there was still your table in the back corner of the tavern. That was your place.

You were just turning a street corner with your friend when you suddenly felt a tingling sensation in the back of your neck. It felt like there was something - or someone - here that seemed familiar.

"Hey, are you coming?" Seryne asked you, smiling gently at you, but you just shook your head.

"I have something to do," you lied, because you wanted to find out why you suddenly felt so strange. What was that feeling?

"Fine, but I'll see you later, yes?" And with that, the woman turned around and disappeared into the crowd and you stood alone in the middle of Flea Bottom. A place where no woman should stay alone for long.

You followed your intuition and walked down a street. To the left and right sat young men and young women, dirty and barely dressed. Some of them were scratching their heads or their arms, which was an obvious sign that the name of this place lived up to. Most of them were sick and you could be thankful that you did not have to suffer such a fate.

And then suddenly you saw it - a dark cloak with a light pattern at the bottom. The person had pulled a hood over his head, but the way he walked seemed familiar to you.

But what could the prince want here now? And especially in such a place?

Out of curiosity you followed him and you were shocked when you suddenly saw more and more naked women, lustfully pressing themselves against men and whispering filthy promises in their ears. Some paid, others simply dragged the women with them.

You were in the Street of Silk. And Aegon was here too.

At your father's request you had always avoided this place as if it were the Seven Hells themselves, but now you could not help it. You had to know if this familiar figure was really your prince and, above all, what he was doing here.

The streets became more crowded the further you walked, but you could not stop, nor could you just turn around and forget about this. You would bring it up next time anyway. Or maybe not.

You quickened your pace as best you could and could see out of the corner of your eye how the person disappeared behind a wooden door - a brothel.

You couldn't blame him. You knew his nature and even if he tried to be gentler with you, he was a man and men have desires. However, your curiosity didn't go away. You wanted to know more. You wanted to know what kind of girls he surrounded himself with and what exactly he would do.

You just had to know.

With a lump in your throat and sweaty palms, you knocked on the wooden door of the brothel until a slightly older woman with brown hair and a sleazy smile opened it for you.

"How can I help you, my lady?" the woman asked you as she leaned her side against the door frame. You felt small and weak under her gaze.

"I- I would like to spend some time in your establishment," you answered her as confidently as possible in this situation.

A small laugh escaped the woman, who was obviously the madam of this house, and she took a step to the side so that you could enter.

"Of course. Have fun, little flower."

You cleared your throat and quickly walked past her into the interior of the brothel and immediately it seemed to you as if you had entered another world.

Music echoed through the oppressively warm air and a wave of smells suddenly overcame you. Fragrant oils, alcohol, sweat and sex. You also heard noises from every corner that made you blush immediately. Moaning, whimpering and sometimes a scream when someone reached their climax.

You shouldn't be here.

But you couldn't help but wonder if Aegon was behind one of the silk privacy curtains and one of the girls was between his legs at this very moment, satisfying him in a way you hadn't dared to think about until now. Or maybe the whore was sitting on his lap? Or maybe she was lying on the bed and he was right behind her and-

A drunk man stumbled past you and you quickly took a few steps further into the room, the feeling of being overwhelmed growing inside you. At the same time, you felt your insides getting warmer and warmer. All the noises and the bare skin had an effect on you.

You walked quickly until you suddenly heard something that made you freeze.

Your name.

A voice moaned your name and whimpered softly. It could be none other than the prince you had fallen in love with over the last few days, and now he was moaning your name in the middle of a brothel.

You knew you should turn around and leave immediately, but your curiosity got the better of you. Your curiosity and the surging feeling of lust inside you.

"Oh gods... fuck yes, don't stop," you heard Aegon's voice say in a tone that made you instinctively bite your lower lip. His voice was rough and deep and his breathing was coming in quick gasps.

Slowly and carefully you approached the curtain and you could already make out a vague silhouette.

He moaned your name again, this time a little louder, and you could no longer hold back.

With a jerk you pulled the silk fabric aside and looked at a scene you had already dreamed of, but you had always been in the whore's place.

Aegon was lying on his back on the bed. His silver hair was disheveled, small beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his eyes were half closed and he was breathing heavily through his mouth. He was still wearing all his clothes, but his breeches were open and between his legs knelt a young woman who bore an astonishingly great resemblance to you. She moved her head up and down, her cheeks hollowing out so she could take him deeper.

Every now and then you caught a glimpse of his cock, and the sight alone made your knees go weak. It was long and thick, and you wanted to close your lips around his shaft and do the same as this woman.

"Oh yes... just like that," he moaned under his breath, reaching for the woman's long hair to keep her in place.

You gripped the fabric of the curtain tighter, and the rustling finally gave you away.

Aegon looked up, and the moment his purple eyes found yours, he began to move his hips back and forth demandingly, never looking away from you.

The woman protested, but the prince did not let go. His moans grew louder, and his pale cheeks grew redder.

"How beautiful you are. Seven hells, I need you. I need to be inside you,” he moaned, which made you whimper in return. You pressed your thighs together and tried to relieve yourself somehow.

And then suddenly with a deep grunt he unloaded himself into the whore’s mouth, while his whole body trembled and she swallowed his seed.

The prince let her go, whereupon the whore winked at him, stood up and left the small alcove, deliberately bumping into your shoulder.

You, on the other hand, were still standing motionless next to the curtain that you were still holding. It burned between your thighs and you couldn't help but stare at his now flaccid member. You wanted to take him in your mouth too.

"Dove... I can explain," he began hesitantly, still breathing quickly and in gasps as he put his cock back in his pants, but left them open for now.

"You don't have to," you replied quickly, your voice coming out weaker than usual, "You have desire. That's normal."

A grin spread across his face, but strangely enough he made no move to get up and pull you towards him. You knew now that he found you physically attractive and that he wanted you, but he didn't take you, even though you too felt a burning desire to be turned onto your back by him at that moment.

"And you? What do you feel?" he asked you and you could swear that there was something vulnerable in his eyes.

"I don't know," you answered him, even though you knew exactly how you felt about him. You loved him and you wanted him. But not like that.

"Really?" Aegon questioned, leaning up on his elbows.

"I want you, Aegon. But not like that. Not in a place like this."

The prince sat up abruptly and looked at you with big, hopeful eyes. "Please... darling, I want you too. I need you. I love-"

Your eyes grew wide and his cheeks turned even redder than before. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped and you were the only two people left in all of King's Landing.

"I love you," he finally said and you could feel your heart leap in your chest. It was like in your dreams.

He loved you. And you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth. But what would you say to him now?

"I... I shouldn't have come here," you said instead before turning around and hurrying out of the brothel as fast as you could.

You could hear him calling your name, but you ran out of the establishment and up the street to your house. Part of you hoped he would follow you, but the rational part of you also knew that it wouldn't change this moment. You still wouldn't open the door.

That evening, you lay in your bed wearing only your nightgown. You had pulled the white fabric over your hips and you moved your slender fingers in circular movements over your sensitive pearl, while the fingers of your other hand moved in and out of your tight hole.

You thought of him and how he had moaned when the girl had closed her mouth around him.

His name was on your lips as you came and you knew you could no longer run away.

You didn't see him the next day and you had never felt so alone before.

The seventh day had come and Aegon was sitting at your table in the tavern and getting drunk. He had already had four cups, but he wasn't drunk yet. Not yet.

Aegon hoped that you would come. He had confessed his love to you and you had run away, but he couldn't blame you. Not after what you had seen. You had a heart of gold and now he had ruined you.

The sun had long since set when you entered the tavern. You didn't know he was there, but you had a hunch. And indeed, your prince was sitting in the furthest corner, alone and staring at the table. It reminded you of your first meeting, only now the roles were reversed.

Slowly and with quiet steps on the wooden floor, you approached him and sank into the seat opposite him. He looked up at you in surprise.

"Good evening," you said with a gentle smile on your lips.

Without waiting a second, he grabbed your hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your hand, while a sigh of relief escaped him.

"You're here," he whispered, as if he could hardly believe it.

"I had a hunch," you answered him gently and brushed a loose strand of hair from his forehead. He was so beautiful and in that moment you realized it again.

“About yesterday…” he began hesitantly. “I wasn’t thinking properly. I said things I shouldn’t have said. I should have-”

“Aegon,” you said and he finally stopped speaking. “I love you too.”

Before he could say anything about your confession, a loud laugh suddenly came from the side and Aegon froze when he saw Martyn and Leon standing not far from their table. They already seemed extremely drunk and were staggering from one foot to the other.

"That bastard actually did it!" Martyn slurred and pointed a finger at the prince, which made you look back and forth between the three men in confusion.

Leon pulled a sack of gold dragons from his belt and threw it on the table. It landed right between you.

"Well played. You won the bet," Leon said with a grin.

"And? Are you keeping this beauty this time?" Martyn then asked and you slowly understood what was happening here.

Aegon looked at you and the expression on his face was pure desperation and panic. He had something to do with it and a lump slowly formed in your throat.

"What kind of bet are these men talking about, Aegon?" you asked him uncertainly.

"I- I-" the Targaryen stuttered without being able to say a clear word.

Before he could explain himself, the drunken redhead intervened again: "We gave him a week to seduce a woman and by all appearances he succeeded."

Your eyes filled with tears and you could feel your heart breaking into hundreds of shards of glass that could never be put back together.

"Nothing of this, absolutely nothing, was real," you realized, your tone bitter and angry.

Aegon immediately shook his head and grabbed your hand again to prove you wrong.

"In the beginning, yes, but no more. I love you. Truly," he answered you honestly, but you just shook your head and pulled your delicate hand away from his again. You loved this man, but the pain blinded you.

"Do you hear that? He loves her!" Leon laughed and patted his friend on the shoulder.

"You are such a damn fool," you cursed and stood up abruptly from your seat to run away from him a second time, but Aegon would not allow it a second time. He left the sack of gold on the table and ran after you.

On the dark street outside the tavern, he grabbed your arm and pulled you against his chest.

"Listen to me, please," he immediately begged as you struggled against his grip. Your hands hit against his chest and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"No! Let me go!"

He ignored your words. "Listen to me. I love you. In the beginning you were just a bet, that's true, but now you are so much more than that. I need you in my life. You are the sun that brightens my days."

You looked at him with wide eyes as another tear rolled down your face. You believed him, but the truth still hurt you.

"I want you," he whispered and slowly leaned down until you could feel his warm breath on your face.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?"

"Aegon..."

He grinned and let his lips wander over your wet cheeks as he kissed your tears away slowly and tenderly. The gesture made your knees weak and your eyes closed for a brief moment.

"The bet said that I couldn't touch you, kiss you, or fuck you. Tonight I shall do all of those things."

The moment the words left his lips, he leaned down and kissed you with a passion he had never seen in himself.

That night he took you, made you his, and proved to you that you were much more to him than a mere bet. You were everything to him.

And he was everything to you.

And his friends were right about at least one thing. This time he was going to keep you.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[drmaddict]

It would be a little unconventional

Summary: Aegon and (Y/n) just married. No one has seen them in the last four days. But that doesn't change the fact that half the castle can hear what they're doing.

Word count: 1.309

Autors note: a bit subby Aegon, anal fingering, well... smut as you may have guessed

"How long has it been since anyone's seen them?", Daemon asked the group, bored.

Rhaenyra smirked. Alicent killed her wine goblet with a look. Jaecerys surprisingly joined Alicent and cut his flesh with more force than necessary.

"Daemon." Rhaenyra rebuked him, still smirking.

He was not impressed. "When was the last time you saw them?", he asked her directly.

She rolled her eyes. "At the wedding.", she replied curtly.

"Which was four days ago.", he added just as curtly.

"Princess, perhaps you should-"

The door to the dining room opened. All eyes shot to (y/n) like moths to a flame.

"Is that your night gown?" Jaecerys asked his sister in shock.

"Yes.", (Y/n) said curtly and immediately grabbed various dishes from the table. She threw a handful of bread rolls onto the plate of fruit, which she simply took and immediately reached for a carafe of wine.

"You can't walk around-"

(Y/n) immediately interrupted her brother. "I'm already off again. Just relax. By the gods."

"Where's Aegon?", asked Alicent.

(Y/n) smiled. "He's asleep."

"At such an early hour?"

"He was tired." (Y/n) shrugged and pressed the carafe of wine into the hand of the member of the Kingsguard who had been following her until just now.

"Long night?", Daemon grinned.

(Y/n) grinned. "It seemed rather short lived to me."

Jaecery's glass shattered in his hand, his grip was so firm.

With that, (Y/n) simply turned round again and motioned to the man from the Kingsguard to follow her. He complied, overwhelmed.

Aemond watched with satisfaction as Jaecerys and Lucerys shoved their food back into themselves with an angry look. "Be glad you can't hear them.", he said to his nephews, sounding bored. "Whorehouses sound more chaste than those two."

Jaecerys leapt across the table towards him.

"Aegon?" she whispered, jerking his shoulder slightly.

"Ngh.", he sighed and curled up, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"I got something to eat."

A snore was her reply.

She sighed. Had she overdone it? Was it too much for him? He liked sex. She knew that. She liked sex. They had sex. A lot of sex... Mainly because of her. And she wanted to do it again. Was she overwhelming him? Him? Aegon II Targaryen, who had spent his entire adolescence shagging his way through every brothel he could find?

She looked at his sleeping face. How could he look so innocent after what they'd both been doing for the last four days?

She poured herself a cup of wine and sat down in the armchair in the room.

The last few days had been wonderful and exciting. They had tried each other out before the wedding, but had always been careful not to risk pregnancy. They hadn't gone all the way. They also had to meet in secret. They had to be quiet. But now. Now they weren't holding back. And by the gods she would do anything to hear the sounds he was making. Those little sighs. The whimpers. The high clear moans when he was about to come. His eyes. Watery and so big as they looked up at her. He didn't want to believe that she had already read a thing or two.

That she wasn't completely ignorant. She was sure he wouldn't question her creativity again.

She sipped her wine and gazed into the fire of the flickering fireplace.

But perhaps she was really overdoing it. Everyone always made fun of how much lust Aegon had indulged in over the years. But she understood. Would people make fun of her too?

She heard the blanket rustle. She turned her face towards the bed. Aegon sat up, his face scrunched up. He rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up wildly from his head. Irritated, he looked around, then his gaze landed on her. "What are you doing?", he asked, pouting slightly and still sounding sleepy.

She looked at her glass. "I'm drinking wine." ,she explained simply.

Aegon pouted more. "What are you doing in that armchair? Come here!", he whined.

She grinned awkwardly. "I just thought you might want a break.", she mumbled.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. "From what?"

"Well..." she pointed vaguely at the bed. "From me-"

"If I want a break from fucking my wife, or letting her fuck me,", he winked at her, "I'll let you know."

She smiled awkwardly. "It's not too much?"

He shook his head with a smile. "If anything, I've got a few books and we'll try everything I found in there."

She grinned. Playfully, she stood up. "Anything you want to start with?"

Aegon smiled. "It would be a little unconventional.", he purred.

He gripped her hips as she settled on his lap.

"Tell me about it.", she whispered and kissed his neck softly.

His breath trembled. "There's a contraption. A harness and... hmmm... and a fake phallus. You could take me with that. Fuck me."

"And that's good for you?"

"I never come harder."

"Explain it to me.", she sighed against his neck.

Aegon reached out to take her hand. Without hesitation, he took two of her fingers in his mouth. One would almost think, he wanted to blow her fingers, licking over her tender skin with such fervour.

"Fuck.", she sighed. His eyes were glassy and so wonderfully veiled.

Aegon released her fingers and lay on his back. She moved beneath him. He quickly shoved one of the pillows under his bum and spread his legs. "And now-", he placed her fingers at his opening. His breathing was shaky. "Start with one finger. Push upwards. There... fuck... there's a point... Ha."

He dropped his head powerlessly into the pillows as she slowly slid her finger inside him. "Like this?"

"Yes! Fuck yes!"

She pressed in further. Watched his face. The crease between his eyebrows. The closed eyes. The slightly open mouth.

"Add the second one. But slowly."

She complied with his request. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "It only stings at first. It's better with oil."

She grinned. "Do you do that to yourself?", she whispered against his ear.

He grinned. "As often as I can."

She grinned. "You like it?"

He nodded quickly. "Move your fingers. Like you're fucking me."

She withdrew her fingers and pushed them back in. Aegon sighed happily.

"You were talking about a point."

He nodded. "Further in. That's right. Press your fingertips upwards. A little to the right. Ah, right there! Oh fuck. Fuck!"

She drew little circles over the spongy spot. "Like this?"

Aegon groaned, whimpering. "Yes.", he whimpered. "Faster. Please. AH!"

She complied with his request. She started kissing his neck again. Caressed his skin. "Can you come just like that?"

Aegon simply nodded. Unable to speak. The sight made her feel the heat between her legs. She felt the wetness. He lay decadently in front of her and she savoured the sight of him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Aegon's semen shot all over his chest and down to his chin. Even (Y/n's) cheek was not spared.

His body tensed. It felt like his insides wanted to break her fingers.

He drove his ass towards her fingers like a madman. Much longer than usual, he floated in ecstasy before his body collapsed.

He lay there, beaten and unable to move.

"Holy mother.", he sighed.

(Y/n) giggled. She kissed his cheeks. She playfully rubbed her nose against the shell of his ear. "I don't think I've ever been so wet.", she whispered.

Aegon's body trembled. He smiled slightly.

"I can't move a muscle, but... If you want a repeat of last night...", he grinned mischievously at her.

She bit her lip. She positioned her thighs next to his head.

"But tell me if I get too heavy.", she smirked.

"I'd die a happy man," he grinned.

[shrimpybbq]

a contended husband is no menace to the kingdom

Aegon being forced to marry his niece instead of Helaena, much to his chagrin. At least Helaena wasn’t a bastard, but now his father wishes to embarrass him more by wedding him to a brown-haired princess and keep him aside. Aegon is so grumpy until he meets the newly-grown Velaryon Princess once more. He underestimated how much of her beauty she got from her mother, and truthfully, she was more comely than he’d expected.

At least he should have something pretty to look at, he thinks.

However, he’s soon shocked by just how much he seems to like the Princess. She’s sweet and kind to him, despite her timid nature. She tries to stay close to him and speak and learn of his interests - only his less than savoury responses seem to leave her crestfallen; something Aegon has found he doesn’t like. He doesn’t like to see the way her smile falls when he is rude to her, or when his mother spares the girl another insult. It’s incredibly unlike Aegon when he first stands up for his betrothed against his mother. He didn’t even stand up for himself and yet he couldn’t take watching the sweet princess curl in on herself anymore.

Aegon and the Princess marry in the great sept, both bride and groom feeling surprisingly pleased with their fate. Aegon has warmed to the girl and begun to feel the impacts of being loved and cared for for once in his life. The Princess has realised that behind the cold and crass exterior of the Prince, he is but a boy wishing to be loved and held.

Rhaenyra comes back for Luke’s petition years later to see her daughter again in person, giggling away with her husband in the throne room. The husband and wife are clinging to each other, the princess dressed in a resplendent gold gown, as they whisper conspiratorially whilst looking around the room. Rhaenyra feels her chest tighten at the small bump protruding from her daughter’s skirt - she had yet to receive a letter announcing this most recent pregnancy. Rhaenyra had wanted to keep her daughter away from the greens at all costs but now looking at her daughter so happy and content, she wonders if maybe her perceptions of Aegon had been incorrect.

(please why couldn’t this man just be happy!)

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye. 

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app. 

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened. 

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever. 

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself. 

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent. 

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message. 

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot. 

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner. 

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”. 

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste. 

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out.  She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on. 

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place. 

Finally, you knock. 

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest. 

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer. 

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.  

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him. 

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.” 

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.” 

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.” 

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him. 

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.” 

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.” 

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen. 

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals. 

“Water is fine,” you tell him. 

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf. 

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed. 

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close. 

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence. 

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension. 

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.” 

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.” 

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.” 

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully. 

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now. 

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it. 

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering. 

It’s good. Better than most. 

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile. 

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin. 

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side. 

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.” 

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?” 

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.” 

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts. 

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands. 

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name. 

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair. 

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom. 

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak. 

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat. 

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment. 

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer. 

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest. 

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!” 

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen. 

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.” 

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

[hisfavegirl]

Held Only in Dreams - Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary : There was a time when your halls rang with laughter. When your chambers were filled with the soft shuffle of tiny feet and the scent of lemon cakes cooling on the windowsill. A time when your husband’s hand curled possessively over the swell of your stomach, whispering prayers to gods he claimed not to believe in. A time when you were not only queen—but mother, wife, sister, daughter, beloved. That time is gone. Now, the Red Keep feels like a tomb. Your son is dead—burned before your eyes in the dragonpit, his small body offered to flame while your screams echoed through stone and fire. And with him, the future you built crumbled to ash.

Warning : Reader is Rhaenyra's Daughter, Angst, Mentions Of Bloods, Fluff, Child Loss, Stillbirth, Grief, Death Of a Loved One, Trauma, War-related Violence.

Aegon II Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

Tom Glynn-Carney Masterlist.

Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

The scent of death was a bitter perfume in the Dragonpit that day. Smoke, old stone, and blood clung to the air, heavy and unmoving, as though the world itself had paused to mourn. You stood still, the silk of your black mourning gown whispering around your legs in the thick silence. The wind toyed with the ends of your dark hair, but you barely felt it.

Your eyes—wide, bloodshot—were locked on the small, shrouded body of your son, Jaehaerys. He looked too small to be dead. Too light. Too still. The pyre of wood beneath him crackled faintly, waiting for flame. And yet all you could hear was the memory of his last breath.

“Mother—”

That broken whisper. That tremble in his lips. The way his little hand clutched yours like he still believed you could save him. It played again and again in your mind like a cruel curse. You couldn’t stop it. Wouldn’t. Didn’t want to forget.

You did not weep. Not until it started.

Aegon moved before you even registered it.

He stepped forward, his white hair untamed in the wind, shadows etched deep under his violet eyes. He didn’t look like a king—he looked like a man stripped bare. The grief in his jaw was rigid, his throat moving as he swallowed it down, over and over again. His gaze flicked up to Sunfyre, who waited just beyond the pyre, golden and restless.

Aegon voice hoarse and unsteady.

“Dracarys.”

The word echoed.

And then Sunfyre unleashed.

The fire roared, gold and white, greedy and all-consuming as it swallowed the wood, the silk, the body. Your baby. The heat slammed into your face and that was when the sob tore free, unbidden and raw, and you collapsed.

Your knees hit the stone with a crack, hands shaking, teeth clenched so hard your jaw hurt. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The flames danced in your eyes but all you saw was his smile—his first steps—his tiny fingers playing with your hair. Gone. Burned. Turned to ash.

You didn’t notice Aegon move until he was there—kneeling beside you, wrapping his arms around your trembling form like he was holding himself together by holding you. His grip was desperate, his chest shaking against your back.

“I should’ve protected him,” he said against your hair, his voice a whisper turned to splinters. “Gods, I should’ve protected him.”

You turned, slowly, painfully, looking at him through your tears. “We’re his parents. We both should have.”

He cupped your face, and for a moment, the firelight turned his eyes to molten amethyst. “You blame me,” he said, barely audible.

“I blame the war. I blame the greed. I blame the fucking throne,” you whispered, gripping the front of his coat. “I don’t have room to hate you, Aegon. I’m too full of hurt.”

He nodded, a slow, devastated motion, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath was hot with whiskey and regret.

“I wake up hearing his voice,” he said. “Every godsdamned night. And I pray for the morning when it doesn’t break me.”

Your lips parted, your breath catching. “Then let it break you. Let it destroy everything, but not us. Not now.”

Aegon’s thumb brushed your cheek as if memorizing the shape of your sadness. “Then burn with me,” he said, voice cracking. “We burn together.”

You kissed him—not for passion, not for want, but for grief. A kiss that trembled with loss, mouths crushed together in silence, tasting salt and ashes. It was an anchor. A promise. A shared ruin.

Behind you, your son’s pyre roared louder. And as the sky darkened and the smell of smoke soaked into your skin, you held each other there on the cold stone floor—two parents grieving a child lost to the madness of dragons and crowns.

The fire ate everything but the pain.

The hearth crackled, low and unrelenting, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls of your shared chambers. It was late, though you couldn’t say what hour. Time had lost its meaning somewhere between the scream that tore from your lips the day Jaehaerys died, and the silence that followed.

You sat curled in front of the fire, your nightgown wrinkled and damp with old tears, legs drawn up tightly to your chest. Your bare feet were cold against the floor, but you didn’t move. The warmth from the hearth touched your skin, but could not reach the frost that settled inside you. That hollow ache had rooted deep, twisting through your ribs like a knife left in place.

The door creaked open.

You didn’t look. You didn’t have to.

Alicent Hightower.

Her steps were soft, deliberate—like one might approach a wounded animal. You felt her presence like a shadow behind you. A ghost that lingered long after the spirit had gone.

“Child,” she called gently, the same tone she might’ve used before you married Aegon—before the world became red and burning and ash. “Please. Look at me.”

You didn’t.

Your gaze remained fixed on the fire. The flames were mesmerizing. They didn’t care who they consumed. Perhaps that’s why you liked them now.

“I did not come to fight,” Alicent continued after a moment. “I only came to see if you—”

“If I what?” you whispered, not turning your head. “If I still bleed? If I still have a voice to scream your name into the void of loss? If your grandson still lies in ash while you walk freely in silks?”

Silence. Her breath caught, but she didn’t move.

“I came to grieve with you,” she said quietly.

You laughed, a low, humorless sound that scraped from your throat like gravel. “You came to ease your guilt. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I loved Jaehaerys.”

At that, you turned your head—slowly. Your brown eyes, hollow and rimmed with shadow, met hers with a weight that made Alicent physically recoil.

“Not enough to stop this,” you said. “Not enough to stop your father. Not enough to stop Aegon from being forced into a crown soaked in blood. You stood there. You chose it.”

“I was protecting my family.”

“And I lost mine.”

The words hung in the air, thick and furious, trembling on the edge of sobs. You pressed your forehead against your knees, voice muffled when you spoke again.

“The gods are cruel,” you whispered. “To take my grandsire. To make Aegon a king he never wanted to be. And now… now our boy. My son.”

Alicent stepped closer, but you raised your hand without looking.

“Do not touch me.”

She froze, her hands curling into her skirts.

“My son died because your house could not bear to see mine rule,” you continued, your voice low, steady, like the calm eye of a storm. “Because your father—your ambition—demanded Hightower blood on the throne.”

Alicent flinched. “You think I wanted this?”

“I think you let it happen,” you hissed, turning back to the fire. “And now I sit in a palace of rot, raising ashes to my lips and pretending they are food. I sleep in a bed soaked with the screams of a child who will never wake.”

“You are not alone in this—”

“I am!” you snapped, finally standing. “Do you think Aegon can even look at me without falling apart? Do you know what it’s like to feel your husband’s hands shake every time he touches your stomach, as if terrified he might find it growing again, and lose another child? Your grief is guilt. Mine is emptiness.”

Alicent’s face crumpled, but no tears fell. She swallowed her sorrow like she had done her whole life—one bitter cup after another.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

You shook your head, stepping closer to her, voice trembling now. “I was his mother. I should have died before he did. And instead, I live—watching my world fall to pieces while the people who shattered it come to me offering apologies wrapped in silence.”

Alicent reached out again, but this time you didn’t move away. You let her fingers brush your arm, light and uncertain.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” she said.

“I won’t.”

Her hand dropped.

“But,” you added softly, “if you want to honor Jaehaerys… if you want to be more than a puppet in your father’s hand, then fight for peace. Fight for something besides thrones and dragons and gods.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to.” You looked into her eyes, firm now. “Because I have nothing left to fight with.”

The fire behind you flared, its glow bleeding through your silhouette like a halo of grief. And Alicent, for the first time in years, said nothing. She just bowed her head and left you alone—again—with the flames.

The echo of your footsteps carried down the long, cold corridor of the Red Keep like a ghost haunting its own halls. You hadn’t walked them in days—not since the fire, not since the world bled your son from your arms and left behind the hollow shell of motherhood.

But today, the silence in your chambers had felt too loud. The walls too suffocating. The hearth too cold.

And so, wrapped in black, with your hair braided back like a warrior in mourning, you walked.

You reached the heavy doors of the council chamber and paused. Fingers curled at your sides. The guards opened them without a word, heads bowed—not as subjects to a queen, but as men who had seen death too close.

Inside, the chamber was dim despite the daylight. Clouds smothered the sun beyond the high windows. Around the long table, the council murmured—quiet, uncertain—but they stopped when they saw you.

And you saw him.

Aegon sat slouched in the throne-like seat at the head of the table, his shoulders curved forward as if the crown itself weighed too much to bear. His tunic hung open at the chest, the buttons undone and forgotten. There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble lining his jaw, as though days had passed without sleep, without care.

But worst of all—he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even there. He stared blankly at the tabletop, unmoving, like a man carved from grief. Your heart clenched so tightly in your chest it hurt.

His head turned slowly when he felt your presence. His breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on you—as if you had appeared from a dream, or worse, a memory he wasn’t ready to see in the flesh.

You stepped forward, your voice soft but commanding.

“Leave us.”

The lords hesitated. One of them opened his mouth to protest—perhaps to speak of duties or strategy—but your gaze flicked to him, and the sharp grief in your eyes struck him dumb.

They stood, slowly. Chairs scraped the floor. Cloaks brushed the stone. No one dared speak. They filed out with silent bows, the doors clicking shut behind them, sealing you inside with him.

Aegon didn’t speak. Just looked at you like you were the last star in a dying sky.

You approached him slowly, your skirts rustling, your steps measured. Each one toward him felt like a step through fire. You stopped just before him, not touching, not breathing.

“I’ve missed you,” you said softly, your voice a cracked whisper.

His eyes brimmed, but no tears fell. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You didn’t come to me either.”

“I couldn’t,” he rasped. “Every time I looked at the bed, I saw him. Every time I touched your pillow, I felt your sobs in my hands. Gods, I didn’t know how to be with you without falling apart.”

You dropped to your knees before him, your hands resting gently on his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his trousers.

“You’re supposed to fall apart with me, Aegon. We’re not meant to carry this alone.”

His chest heaved, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m the king. I don’t get to grieve. I sit in this chair, I listen to them speak of banners and blood, and all I want is to scream his name until the gods bring him back to me.”

You leaned your forehead against his knee, eyes shutting. “I died with him too.”

His hand moved—tentative, trembling—and threaded into your hair.

“I keep waking up expecting him to run into our chambers,” he whispered. “Asking me to carry him on my shoulders again. And then I remember… what they did to him. What they took.”

He choked, his voice cracking with guilt. “He was only a boy. And I was supposed to protect him.”

You lifted your head and looked up at him, eyes glistening. “He died because they wanted your throne. Because we were born of fire, and they would rather burn the world than see it ruled by dragon blood not of their making.”

Aegon looked down at you—really looked—and his face crumpled. You stood, then, sliding into his lap, your arms around his neck. His hands grabbed at your back, desperate and tight, like he was trying to fuse you to him. His lips found your neck—not in lust, but in need—and he buried himself there, breathing you in like he was drowning and you were the only air.

“I need you,” he murmured against your skin. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You don’t have to.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your hand cupping his face.

“You’re not a king right now. You’re just my husband. Our son is gone, and all we have left is each other. If we don’t hold on to that, we’ll drown.”

He kissed you then—messy, wet, raw with grief and love and desperation. Not to forget, but to remember. To feel. His hands curled into your sides, pulling you closer, and your tears mixed between your mouths.

“I love you,” he whispered brokenly. “Even in this ruin, I love you.”

You pressed your forehead to his, breath mingling. “Then don’t leave me alone again.”

“I won’t.”

Outside, the war still burned. The court still whispered. The gods still played their cruel games.

But inside the council chamber, on a throne of sorrow, a king and queen clung to one another in the only kind of power that mattered now.

You stayed in Aegon’s arms long after the storm of sobs had passed, held together not by strength but by shared ruin. Your face was buried in the hollow of his neck, his hands splayed across your back as though if he stopped touching you, even for a moment, you’d vanish again. The air in the council chamber was heavy with salt and smoke, with grief and something older—like the lingering scent of burnt flesh and broken oaths.

It was the first time in days that you’d felt him. Truly felt him. And then the doors opened, Aegon’s arms tightened around you, instinctive and bracing.

You didn’t lift your head.

You didn’t need to.

You knew who it was the moment the sharp footfall struck the stone. Measured. Unflinching. Proud.

Aemond.

You remained perfectly still.

“My king,” his voice rang out, calm and cold, like the blade that had started this war. “The man who murdered your son—he is in the black cells. He awaits your judgment.”

Silence.

Aegon’s hand moved slowly, brushing over your hair, down your spine. You could feel his throat work against your cheek as he swallowed. You could feel the way his chest tensed beneath your palm, the way his rage and sorrow warred against each other like wildfire.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Not when he was standing there. Not when his voice was in the air you had to breathe.

“You should go,” you said quietly, not lifting your head. Aegon looked down at you, confused.

“I can’t—” Your voice cracked. “I won’t see him.”

“My love…”

You pulled away from Aegon’s embrace just enough to sit back, your eyes glistening but firm. You stared at the stone floor, not at the door.

“I can’t look at the man who tore my brother from the sky. I can’t see the face of the one who turned dragons into monsters and blood into war.”

Aemond shifted near the doorway, but said nothing.

“Everything began with him,” you whispered. “With his arrogance. With his wrath. With his need to claim victory over a child.”

There was silence, heavy and thick, like smoke pressing against your lungs.

Aemond stepped forward. “You think I do not carry the weight of Lucerys’s death every day? You think I sleep easily knowing what I did? It was not meant to be—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, lifting your head for the first time, your brown eyes blazing with sorrow and fury. “Do not stand there and speak of regret while my brother is bones in the sea and my son is ash in the wind.”

Aemond faltered, just for a moment, his mouth tightening.

You turned away again, facing the fire like it could shield you. “You want forgiveness. You want understanding. But you don’t get to ask that of me. Not when your sword carved a wound into my family that will never heal.”

Aegon stood, moving beside you. His hand rested on your shoulder, grounding you. He looked at Aemond then—his brother, his kin—and for the first time in weeks, his voice held something sharp beneath the grief.

“You should have never been there, Aemond. You were supposed to be my sword, not my firestarter. Look at her,” he motioned to you gently. “Look at what’s left of us.”

Aemond’s eye burned with some emotion too complex to name—remorse, shame, defiance.

“She is my family too,” he said. “I did not come to ask her pardon. I came because I thought she deserved to know that the man who took Jaehaerys’s life will suffer. That justice, at the very least, is within our grasp.”

You stood slowly, your voice quiet, trembling with tightly caged fury. “Justice?” you echoed. “Justice would be turning back time. Justice would be undoing what you did to Luke. What your mother and grandsire did to this realm. What you—all of you—burned in your hunger for a crown.”

“I never wanted it,” Aemond snapped.

“But you never stopped it either,” you said, each word like a brand pressed to skin. “And now you speak of justice while the blood of children—mine and my mother’s—stains the stones beneath our feet.”

Aemond stepped back then, just once.

And it was enough.

You turned to Aegon, your face softening only for him.

“I want to see Jaehaerys avenged,” you said quietly. “But I will not find that peace in a cell or on a blade. I will find it when the realm stops bleeding. When the gods no longer feast on our young. When men like your brother stop pretending their violence was fate.”

You didn’t stay to hear Aemond’s reply. You walked past him without looking, the scent of ash and steel trailing you like a cloak. Your steps were sure now. You didn’t need fire in your lungs or vengeance on your tongue.

You had something sharper.

Truth.

And the weight of all that had been lost. Behind you, the council chamber remained still—just two broken brothers and the memory of everything they’d ruined.

The hearthfire crackled low in the corner of your chambers, casting long shadows across the walls—shadows that looked like dragons, or monsters, or memories. You didn’t know which anymore. You sat in the center of the bed with your legs folded beneath you, a soft woolen blanket clutched tightly in your arms. It was small—barely large enough to cover a toddler. Faded in color now, worn from use. But every thread was familiar. Every stitch had been made by your own hand.

It had taken you weeks to embroider the blanket for Jaehaerys. Tiny stars in silver thread danced along the edges, encircling a golden dragon stitched in the center—just as you had once whispered to your son, You are my little star. My little dragon.

You brought the fabric to your nose and inhaled deeply. His scent was still there. Faint, barely clinging to the threads, but there.

It was lavender soap and sunshine and the warmth of his tiny skin after a nap against your chest. You let out a trembling breath, and then a soft, broken laugh slipped from your lips.

You smiled.

For a moment, it felt like you were holding him again.

And then the moment passed.

Your chest tightened. Your heart clenched so violently it knocked the air from your lungs. The smile faded as your throat caught, and then your shoulders began to shake.

You curled tighter around the blanket.

“I held you,” you whispered, voice shaking as you rocked gently. “I held you as you were born… and I held you again as you—”

You couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say the word. Died. It tasted like blood and iron and grief on your tongue.

Your arms loosened as the sob slipped from your lips, quiet and sharp.

You knew where Aegon was—down in the black cells. You hadn’t spoken a word when he left. His hand had lingered on your shoulder, his eyes searching yours. But there had been nothing left to give him. Not in that moment. Only silence. And your son’s blanket.

He had gone to face the man who’d taken your baby’s life.

But you… you could not face the world.

You pressed your palm to your lower stomach, gently stroking the place where you had once felt life flutter. Jaehaerys had kicked there. He had hiccupped there. He had grown in your womb like a flame.

And now…

A sharp twist clawed through your belly. So sudden, so vicious it knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped, your body lurching forward.

Your fingers clutched at the sheets as the pain lanced through you, deep and low. You tried to move, tried to rise—but your knees buckled beneath you before your feet even touched the floor. You collapsed sideways on the bed, one arm tangled in the blanket, the other pressing desperately to your stomach.

“No—no, no, no,” you panted, the pain doubling you. “Not now…”

You could barely think. The agony twisted and pulled like a vengeful spirit inside you, wringing every nerve. Your vision blurred. You tried to breathe, but your chest was tight with something worse than pain—terror.

Had grief broken you that deeply? Had loss hollowed you so fully that your body was now unraveling from the inside out?

You moaned, biting your lip to keep from screaming. You didn’t want the guards to hear. You didn’t want the maids or the servants or the court to see you like this.

You just wanted Aegon.

Your hand scrambled across the bed, reaching for anything—blankets, pillows—something to anchor you. Your fingers found the soft cloth again, the one with stars and the golden dragon.

You clutched it to your chest like it could save you. And then, through the fog of pain, you felt something. Something warm trickling down your thigh.

Your eyes widened. You looked down—and the dread that washed over you was cold, like seawater stealing the last embers of a fire.

Blood.

Not much. But enough.

You choked out a sound that wasn’t quite a sob. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was all sobs now. Maybe that was all you would ever be—a woman made of cries and ashes.

The door was too far.

Aegon was too far.

And you… you were crumbling.

Not from a sword or a war.

But from the ache that only mothers could know.

Still, even as the pain swallowed you whole, you did not let go of the blanket. Your fingers curled tighter around the scent of your son. Your dragon. Your little star. If this was death coming for you, it would have to pry it from your hands.

The corridors were silent as Aegon walked them, save for the fading echo of his boots across stone. He was numb.

The black cells had given him no satisfaction. No vengeance. Only the stench of rot and the hollow sound of a man begging for mercy that Jaehaerys had never been granted.

The crown on his head felt heavier than ever, like it had fused to his skull. He didn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He didn’t care. His hands were still smeared with dirt from gripping the iron bars too tightly, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. There was only one place he wanted to be now.

With you.

He reached your shared chambers and paused briefly before opening the door—bracing himself for your silence, for your back turned to him again, for the distance between you both that grief had carved like a canyon.

But when the door opened—

He froze.

The blood drained from his face.

You were on the floor. On your knees.

Your nightgown was soaked in blood from the waist down, the dark stain spreading fast across the silk. Your hands were pressed between your thighs, trembling as you clutched at yourself, and your face—gods, your face—was contorted in pain so raw, so violent it turned his bones to ice.

You didn’t even look at him. You just groaned, your voice low and ragged, like something was ripping you apart from the inside.

“No,” Aegon whispered, then louder—sharper. “NO.”

He bolted across the chamber, nearly slipping on the rug as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Guards!” he bellowed, voice breaking with panic. “Get the maester—NOW! MOVE!”

You whimpered, your head lolling toward him as tears streaked your cheeks.

“Aegon,” you croaked. “I—it hurts—I can’t—”

“I know, I know,” he rasped, cradling you into his arms with a gentleness that defied the tremble in his hands. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, love. You’re safe. Just breathe, alright? Just—just breathe.”

But how could you breathe with your body betraying you like this?

You writhed against him, crying out again, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. Blood soaked into his lap as he held you, thick and hot and terrifyingly real. His mind raced—was this a miscarriage? Had he not known? Were you pregnant again after Jaehaerys?

Had the gods given him another child… only to tear it away again?

His throat closed. He pressed a shaking kiss to your temple.

“Stay with me,” he begged in a whisper. “Don’t—don’t leave me too. Please.”

You whimpered again, collapsing into his chest. “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t know—I didn’t even know—”

“Shhh, no.” He cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him through your haze. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare apologize. This is not your fault.”

The door burst open again, and he shouted over his shoulder, “Maester! She’s bleeding! Get over here, now!”

The elderly man rushed in with his apprentice and a flurry of linen and herbs. But Aegon wouldn’t let go of you.

Not until the maester forced him to.

“Your Grace, please—she needs to be laid down—”

“I said I’m not letting her go!” he snapped, eyes wild, voice cracking.

“Then help me,” the maester said firmly. “We may still save her.”

Those words snapped Aegon into motion. He helped lift you onto the bed, whispering soothing things even as you screamed again, your body arching from another wrenching spasm. The blood kept coming. The pain did not relent. And your eyes—

They found his. Desperate. Distant. Frightened.

“Don’t go,” you gasped. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he swore. “Never, do you hear me?”

He sat at your side, gripping your hand so tightly his knuckles whitened, his other hand stroking your hair back from your damp forehead as the maester worked below the sheets, murmuring instructions and prayers.

The minutes passed like lifetimes.

You faded in and out, whimpering his name between cries of agony. He didn’t dare move. Didn’t breathe unless you did.

The worst kind of helplessness crawled beneath his skin. He was the king. He commanded armies. He held the lives of lords in his palm. And yet here—here, watching the only thing that mattered to him scream in pain—he was useless.

Useless and broken.

The chamber was dim, the fire in the hearth reduced to a low, wavering glow that painted the stone walls in the color of dying embers. The smell of herbs and blood still lingered in the air, clinging to everything like a shroud.

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

You just lay there, in the cradle of Aegon’s arms, your face pressed into the hollow of his chest, and wept.

The sound was low at first—shaky, broken gasps that caught in your throat like glass. But then they deepened, became guttural, as though your soul had been carved open and all it could do now was ache.

And Aegon… said nothing.

He simply held you.

One hand curved protectively around the back of your head, stroking your hair in slow, aimless motions—like he might soothe the storm if only he kept his hand moving, if only he could pretend hard enough that he had the power to keep you from shattering completely.

His other arm circled you tightly, pulling your trembling body closer to his chest until you were clinging to him like a lifeline. Your fists curled in the fabric of his tunic, knuckles white, your nails digging in, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t move.

The only part of him that did was his jaw, clenched so tight it ached.

And his eyes—closed now—because he couldn’t bear to see you this way.

The maester’s words still echoed in his skull like a curse: The babe did not survive.

It should’ve been another whisper in the whirlwind of this war. Another quiet death among too many. But it wasn’t. This wasn’t a piece in the game. This wasn’t strategy. This wasn’t duty.

This was you. His wife. The only person left who touched the parts of him that were still human.

And that babe—

That had been the flicker of hope. The thing you both hadn’t dared to speak aloud after Jaehaerys. The balm that might’ve softened the open wound in your chests. Something small and warm and yours. Something that wasn’t built of blood and betrayal.

Now gone.

A future unmade in silence, in blood, on the cold stone floor of your chambers.

Your cries twisted into something smaller now—hiccuping gasps, hoarse whimpers, the sound of someone trying to breathe through grief that refused to loosen its grip.

You pulled back for just a moment, and Aegon looked down, eyes red-rimmed, haunted.

Your face was streaked with tears, lips parted as though you wanted to speak—but no words came. Only a soft, trembling shake of your head before you buried your face into his neck again, another wave of sobs wracking through you.

“I know,” he whispered finally, his voice low and ruined. “I know, love.” It was all he could say. Because there were no words that could unmake what had happened.

No king’s decree could call your baby back.

No dragonfire could burn the pain away.

Aegon held you tighter.

And for the first time in weeks, he let his own tears fall—silent and steady, slipping down his cheeks and into your hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“We should’ve had peace,” he murmured, not sure if you could hear him, not sure if he was speaking to the gods or cursing them. “We should’ve had a life. A family.”

His hand kept moving, slow and reverent. He didn’t move even when your sobs quieted into nothing, when sleep finally took you from exhaustion, from pain.

He just held you there, with his arms locked around the one thing he still had and prayed the gods wouldn’t take you too.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting amber shadows on the walls, but the warmth didn’t reach you. It couldn’t. Not when your insides had frozen over with grief.

You sat curled in on yourself, knees tucked tight against your chest, your arms wrapped around your shins like armor, your forehead resting lightly on your kneecaps. The clean nightgown clung to you loosely, the scent of the bathwater—lavender and lemon—already fading. You didn’t feel clean. You felt hollow.

Behind you, the chamber was quiet save for the soft rustle of silk and the hesitant approach of footsteps.

“Sweetling…” Aegon’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with helplessness. “Please… talk to me.”

You didn’t move. Your eyes remained locked on the flames, as if there was something there you could decode—some hidden meaning in the dance of embers, some sign that might make sense of all this pain.

He stepped closer. “I can’t fix this. But I need you to let me try—”

You flinched when you felt his hand. Not because it startled you, but because it hurt—the gentleness of it. His fingers slid carefully through your hair, brushing it back from your face. He crouched behind you, resting on his knees. He was always taller, stronger, the dragon who carried fire in his blood… but right now, he seemed so small behind you. So unsure.

You said nothing. Just let him stroke your hair as your lips moved with a whisper that grew heavier with each repetition.

“The gods are cruel…” you murmured. “So cruel.”

Aegon exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to the back of your shoulder. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Your voice cracked, your eyes never leaving the fire. “They don’t punish you. They punish me. They take my children. Our children. Over and over and over again.”

“I lost them too,” he whispered, and the pain in his voice made your spine stiffen. “I lost them with you. Every time.”

“But I carried them,” you whispered, and your voice caught. “I felt their hearts. I held them inside me. I gave them names in my sleep. I dreamed of what they’d look like—if they’d have my eyes or yours. I sang to them when you weren’t there.”

You turned your head just slightly, your profile catching the firelight. The tears had started again, sliding down your cheeks silently now, no longer wild or loud. Just endless.

“And what did I get for it?” Your voice shook. “Jaehaerys… murdered in his own bed. Our babe gone before they could take a breath.”

Aegon didn’t speak. He just rested his palm against your back, rubbing slow circles as if he could soothe the wound beneath your skin.

You inhaled shakily, your voice so soft now, it barely survived the air.

“This is my punishment.”

His hand paused.

You blinked, still not looking at him. “For choosing you. For choosing you over my mother.”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, voice rising. “Don’t you say that.”

“She warned me,” you went on, like in a trance. “She said loving you would destroy me. That war would follow you, pain would follow you. And I didn’t care. I chose you. I married you. I stood by you.” You finally turned your head toward him, your eyes bloodshot and wet. “And now… my children are dead. One by one, stripped from my arms.”

He looked like he’d been stabbed. “You think I don’t carry that guilt every time I look at you? That I don’t wonder if you would’ve been safer without me?”

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking again. “Maybe I would have.”

Aegon’s hand dropped from your back. He sat down beside you slowly, legs folding beneath him. The fire danced between your bodies, painting both of you in gold and shadow. You stared at each other in silence for a long moment—broken, tired, grieving in different ways.

“I know you hate me right now,” he said finally, his voice tight, like he was forcing it out past a wall in his throat. “And maybe you should. Maybe I deserve it. But gods be damned, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And if I could take this pain from you—if I could give my own blood to bring him back—I would.”

You dropped your head again, your forehead brushing your knees. “I just want to be a mother again,” you whispered. “I want to hold my child. I want to feel life in my arms, not death.”

He reached out again, pulling you into his arms this time. The gesture was quiet, small… and yet full of the weight of a man who was watching the woman he loved drown.

You didn’t speak again, and neither did he. You simply melted into his arms in front of the fire, surrounded by the warmth you couldn’t feel, and the ghosts you couldn’t escape.

The scent of lemon cake still lingered in the corners of the chamber. You hadn’t touched it.

Aegon had left it for you on the small side table three days ago, a quiet offering, accompanied by a soft kiss to your temple and a promise you hadn’t answered. It had been your favorite once. Now, the sight of it only twisted your stomach into knots.

You hadn’t spoken more than a few words since the babe died. The pain clung to your skin like ash—so heavy, so absolute, it felt like you’d been buried with your child.

You hadn’t left the bed, either. The silken covers had long since twisted around your limbs, heavy and wrinkled with the days you’d spent curled in their cocoon. The hearth had gone cold, the fire long since died. You hadn’t asked anyone to tend it. What was the point?

Grief did not need warmth.

Your eyes were half-lidded, dry and red-rimmed, when the familiar creak of the chamber doors caught your attention. You didn’t look right away.

You expected the maid. Or perhaps Aegon again—come to coax, to plead, to wrap his arms around you and whisper that he was still here, even as you drifted further from everything.

But then—small footsteps.

You turned your head.

And the moment you saw them, your breath caught like a dagger in your throat.

Aegon stood in the doorway, his hand resting gently on the shoulder of your little daughter, and cradled in the other arm was your youngest—Maelor, still small enough to be carried.

But it was Jaehaera who shattered you. The soft golden hair. The pale, thoughtful face. The shape of her nose, the curve of her lips—so much like her twin brother.

So much like Jaehaerys.

Your body tensed, your arms shaking where they gripped the edge of the blankets, and your eyes stung before the tears even came. But they did come.

Not like before—not silent, not restrained. These tears broke through like a storm, sudden and unstoppable. You pressed a hand over your mouth as your shoulders crumpled forward. A sob tore from your throat.

Jaehaera stared at you, wide-eyed, not quite understanding why her presence had sparked such pain. She looked up at Aegon, confused, but said nothing—just held the small wooden doll in her hand tighter, as if for comfort.

You barely noticed Aegon’s steps as he crossed the room. Only when he knelt beside the bed and placed Maelor gently in the crook of your arm did your breath hitch again.

You turned your face away, overwhelmed, but then Jaehaera’s small hand touched your wrist.

“Mother?” Her voice was quiet. “Are you sad because my brother is with the gods?”

Your throat closed. You couldn’t speak.

You nodded, a slow, shuddering movement.

Jaehaera crawled up beside you carefully, climbing into the bed without hesitation. She tucked herself under your arm and laid her head on your chest.

“I’m sad too,” she whispered. “But Maelor still laughs when I tickle him. And I still remember when Jaehaerys told me stories about dragons flying backwards just to make me laugh. So maybe that means he’s not all gone. Maybe he’s still in the stories.”

That did it.

The sob that came out of you wasn’t just pain—it was a letting go, a surrender to everything you’d been trying to hold back. You held both your children tightly to your chest, one in each arm, and buried your face in Jaehaera’s soft hair.

Aegon sat on the edge of the bed beside you, not saying a word. But his hand covered yours, grounding you, as your grief spilled out in waves.

Your fingers clung to Jaehaera’s nightgown, the fabric soft and worn. You pressed a kiss to the top of Maelor’s head, his tiny hand patting your arm as though he, too, knew you needed to be brought back.

And for the first time since your womb had gone quiet, you felt something else break through the ache.

Not peace.

But presence.

The pieces of your heart that still remained—fragile, bruised, and alive—curled up in your arms. And for now, they were enough.

The chamber, once dim and heavy with mourning, now glowed soft with the orange flicker of candlelight. The hearth had been rekindled, its warmth reaching out in golden threads across the stone floor, weaving through your limbs, curling around your fingers.

You were still in bed, propped against the headboard with pillows stacked behind you, your hair loose, your gown wrinkled. But today—tonight—there was a softness on your face that hadn’t been there in weeks. Not a full peace. But something like… a pause in the sorrow. A breath of stillness.

Maelor was curled in your lap, warm and heavy against your stomach, his little legs splayed carelessly over the folds of your blanket. You had one hand around his back, supporting him, while your other arm held Jaehaera tucked beneath it. She was gently brushing the edge of your sleeve with her fingertips, lost in some private world of thought and comfort.

Maelor looked up at you, eyes wide and bright, those chubby cheeks pink with firelight. He babbled something incoherent—a string of sounds only a mother could recognize as a question. You blinked at him and tilted your head playfully.

“What is it, my sweet boy?”

He stared at your mouth like it held some grand secret. Then, with the solemn focus only a toddler could muster, he raised his tiny hands—soft, still sticky from honeyed bread—and cupped your face.

You barely had time to react before his thumb pressed into your cheek and his other hand reached down and grabbed your lower lip between two fingers.

It wasn’t painful—just surprising. The sudden tug made your mouth part in shock, and a small puff of laughter escaped you.

“Maelor!” you gasped through a breathless laugh.

Aegon, seated at the foot of the bed now, let out a playful huff, leaning back on his hands. “Gods,” he said with a smirk. “He’s already got your mouth. Now he’s claiming it.”

Your laughter grew, the sound light and trembling, like a song you hadn’t sung in far too long.

Jaehaera squealed with laughter beside you, her arms wrapping tighter around your waist as she buried her face against your side. “He always pulls mine too, mama!” she giggled. “He’s a silly dragon.”

“Silly indeed,” you murmured fondly, as Maelor, apparently satisfied with your lip, released it and let out a triumphant coo. Then, just as suddenly, he dropped forward and nuzzled into your neck, his little nose smushing into your skin, warm and soft and so achingly present.

Your breath hitched.

It wasn’t the sadness this time.

It was the ache of feeling, of realizing how much you’d missed this—how long you’d been drowning beneath the weight of your loss, barely able to register the blessings that still clung to you like lifelines.

Your arms wrapped more tightly around them both—your daughter and your son, your little lights in the long night—and you glanced toward Aegon.

He was watching you, his eyes softer now, the playful smile dimmed into something reverent.

Something aching.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “We missed you.”

You swallowed, the knot in your throat tight but not suffocating. You leaned your cheek against Maelor’s curls, inhaling the faint scent of milk and lemons and the clean linen of his sleep tunic.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I was trying to hold it together… but I forgot how to reach for anything else.”

Aegon shifted closer, reaching out to touch your knee gently. “You don’t need to hold it together,” he murmured. “Not here. Not with us. You just need to be. Let them carry the rest.”

You looked at him, tears shining in your lashes, and nodded.

For a moment, the four of you were wrapped in something sacred—flawed, fraying, but still holy in its own quiet way.

Your son tugged your lip again, giggling now, proud of his new trick. Jaehaera shrieked with laughter, her head thrown back against your chest.

And you—you laughed too.

Real, full, and trembling.

Aegon closed his eyes as the sound filled the chamber, and when he opened them again, his gaze rested not on the shadows of your pain, but on the living proof of everything you still were.

Still whole.

Still mother.

Still here.

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