#aegon is not cockless here ;) need every part to work properly—they gotta maelor to create!

[rhaegonthinker]

“do you see him when you look at me, sister? do you see our father?” aegon licks his chapped lips, looking into her bright violet eyes, wanting to see into her mind, know every waking that crosses her mind—of him. “tell me, rhaenyra, is that what you see? all you see?” aegon says a bit more desperately, gritting his teeth in pain, his flesh still burning, skin scorched. he wants to kill aemond for ruining him, taking what will to live he had left. he wants to take revenge on him like he wanted to on his sister for murdering his son, until he found out the truth. that she had no part in it. a son for a son is what she wanted, but when she found him—her half-brother—half burned, half broken like their father, she took pity on him, sparing his life, putting a price on aemond’s instead—the other brother who they both want revenge on now. something else in common they share besides their dragon blood.

rhaenyra looks at him with more softness in her eyes than she ever has and aegon wishes she would say something.

“tell me, nyra,” he rasps, tears falling down his face, stinging his burns. tell me you see me, your brother, your blood, your equal. tell me you see someone besides a replica of our father, half dead, half decayed. he clenches his hands into fists, his whole body going rigid and aegon wants milk of the poppy, needs it to dull the pain, the suffering of her silence.

because aegon wants her. his heart. his soul. his spirit. even his body, his belly rippling with a river of feverish desire. desire he hasn’t felt in many moons. not since it was torn away from him, like sunfyre.

but rhaenyra has awakened the dormant dragon within him. and it roars to life, demanding attention, her touch, her affection, her love. he’s about to beg her, say please, when her clear voice breaks through his all consuming thoughts.

”yes,” she answers honestly, truly, and aegon’s heart skips a beat, because at least it’s the truth, but she isn’t finished, giving him a smile. “but i see the good parts of him in you,” she runs her fingers over the side of his scarred cheek, caressing it lightly, wiping away his tears, careful of her sharp nails. aegon gulps, imagining her running them down his naked chest, where the flesh isn’t ruined, where she could inflict pleasured pain born of passion. “you have a good heart, little brother. i see it now.” rhaenyra places her right hand against his hammering heart, gentle as a mother’s kiss upon her babe’s brow. “some parts that are our father, your mother…even me.” rhaenyra leans in close, breathing deep and placing her left hand on the other side of his chest, leveraging her weight against him now. and it makes his breath hitch, wishing her warmth, her body would burden his always, for he’d always carry her with him—always will from now on.

“but, sweet brother,” the affectionate words roll off of rhaenyra’s tongue like an aphrodisiac and aegon’s already drunk off them, his lips barely brushing hers and he whines low in the back of his throat, wanting to taste the saccharine sweetness. “i see all of you, only you, my aegon—wholly.”

wholly. the word rings inside aegon like glorious bells awakening, tolling victoriously. because his sister, his queen, sees him for who he is, has always been, not a ghost haunting them both. not just parts and pieces of a whole.

aegon kisses her hungrily, tasting no bitterness or poison, but pure honey; initiating and igniting the war their mouths wage on one another’s, their tongues battling for dominance. a dance of dragons that both of them deem to win, until rhaenyra’s the first to bite his bottom lip, draw his blood, tasting his coppery crimson for herself.

“sister,” aegon hisses, his hands grabbing onto her for dear life, groaning when she sucks his lip desperately, for it’s not painful, but blissful to bleed for his sister. for every piece of himself attaches to her, every part, aches for her eternally.