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bungalowbear · 2 years

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I’ll Cry If I Want To II

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x reader (60s AU)

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Aegon recalls strong feelings from the night of your party.

A/N: Here is the final part. Enjoy!

Part One

Aegon’s father’s house is a grand abode at the edge of the city. Tonight the dining room is prepared for the rehearsal dinner, where a long table is arranged to accommodate both the bride and groom’s families.

You sit directly across from Aegon between your mother and father. You have on a black velvet dress with a square neckline and long sleeves. Coupled with your neutral expression, you look presentable for a funeral. He supposes that’s what this is. The end of life as you both know it.

Aegon watches you take a sip of your wine. A stark opposite to his large gulps. Where he is eager to drain every cup to get to the next, you are patient as you savor each drop. His eyes fixate on where your tongue swipes away the few drops that linger on your lips.

Your birthday party was months ago, yet your cold demeanor towards Aegon hadn’t thawed. Your mothers arranged outings, to keep up appearances, during which you hadn’t struck up your usual conversations. They weren’t about your fathers’ work or how this engagement was one big farce. No, you’d ask about Aegon. His interests, his childhood, what he hoped for himself in the future. He’d actually enjoyed his time with you. But as always he managed to screw it up.

Aegon hadn’t intended to drink so much. He’d been drinking less since the announcement of the engagement. But the morning of your party he and his father got into a terrible fight. It was the usual rant about Aegon being irresponsible and essentially not good enough to be his father’s successor. Aegon had heard it all before, so he wasn’t sure why this time it affected him so much.

When he arrived at your apartment, your presence was enough to quell some of the self-destruction that was building. First he started with one glass. He shared a dance with you and it was the best he’d felt in so long, free from expectation. But as the night went on he fell into old habits with his college friends. They kept placing drink after drink into his hand. If he was a better man he would have refused the excess and went to find you, to seek solace in your presence. Instead he kept going.

The rest is a blur. He remembers a hand on his arm. Heavy and needy. Whispers of warm desire in his ear. Unsteady footsteps toward the bathroom in the hallway. Clothes hastily removed. Snapping hips. Heavy breathing. Cries of pleasure.

Aegon takes a deep gulp of wine.

The one thing Aegon can remember clearly is the feeling of disappointment that washed over him as soon as it was done. It sunk deep into him and planted its roots, allowing anger, shame, and self-loathing to sprout. It all blossomed out of him and he pricked you with his thorns. Even at the sight of your tear stained face he couldn’t stop. He told you to suck it up. To deal with him like everyone else had learned to do.

And that’s what you do now. Your eyes don’t look in his direction. Not since your arrival, which granted him an obligatory greeting from you.

Aegon wishes he were different. That he didn’t have to drink and fuck his way around the city to bury his dread and miserableness. Even though it’s the exact opposite of what he wants, Aegon knows one day he’ll have to take his father’s place. His half-sister Rhaenyra is the true eldest and better suited, but everyone does go on about having the first born son inherit the proverbial throne.

Another swig of wine.

The entire table seems to be willfully ignorant of his inebriated state. But you are also glossed over as everyone else strikes their own conversations around the table. You and Aegon are an island occupying two separate sides. The sea surrounding you is filled with sharks, the vicious jaws of your families waiting to devour you both.

You push your food around your plate, a blank stare occupying your face. Even when all of the plates are cleared and everyone moves into the large den you keep yourself tucked in a corner of the room. If anyone notices the way you and Aegon keep your distance no one says anything. There’s no need for pretense among family.

Aegon heads for the bar and pours himself a glass of bourbon, watching his family and yours dance and share laughter. He thinks what a wonder it is to be so jovial while the couple whose union they’re celebrating is so blatantly miserable.

Aegon doesn’t know how long he stands at the bar, but when his brother Aemond comes up beside him to refill his own glass he lingers.

“It would be wise to keep your wits about you tonight, brother.”

“What for? Everything’s already been settled,” Aegon grumbles. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

Aemond turns to him, the sapphire in his eye catching the light. “It’s not the fate worse than death you think it is.”

“Easy for you to say.” Aegon chuckles humorlessly. “Your marriage is perfect.”

Aemond glances over his shoulder at his wife, who is speaking with their mother.

“Nothing is perfect. No matter how much we wish it were.”

Aegon looks between his brother and sister-in-law. “Are you two…fighting?”

“We’ve hit a bit of a rough patch.”

Aegon’s brows rise. “Didn’t think you of all people would have one of those.”

“We’re dealing with it. Like adults.” Aemond turns back, lips pulled down into a frown. “Unlike you.”

“I am. If I weren’t, would I be able to do this?”

Aegon tips back his glass and drains the rest of his drink. The action leaves him slightly disoriented. The room tilts off its axis and he feels his legs quiver slightly. Aegon slams the glass on the bar counter and looks to his brother, offering him a wide grin.

“If I were you I’d switch to water for the rest of the night,” Aemond warns.

“And why is that?”

Aemond turns and sets his eyes on two people in the middle of the room. Aegon follows his gaze and lands on you. Nowhere to Run by Martha and the Vandellas spills from the speakers of the record player and your body moves in perfect rhythm. Aegon stares as he’s taken back to the night of your party when you shared a dance with him. A smile begins to form on his lips until he realizes who you’re dancing with.

Daeron.

Of course the only person who’d be able to coax you out of your shell would be his obnoxiously sweet and amicable little brother. If Aemond was the perfectly pious and responsible child, then Daeron was a close second. Just freshly turned eighteen, Daeron has been naturally gifted with a magnetism that has girls from all over the city flocking to him. And even more infuriating, he doesn’t indulge them in the nefarious ways Aegon would. No. He simply offers brief flatteries before going on his merry way, leaving a trail of fawning ladies. And apparently his fiancé is no exception.

Aemond leaves the bar without another word. Aegon turns away from you and grips the bottle of bourbon and pours the rest of it into his glass. He isn’t a fool. He’s seen the way his brother looks at you, as if you’d hung the moon. No doubt the reason he hasn’t pursued any other girl is because of his childish crush on you. No matter how much he tries not to be, Daeron is still just a boy. There’s no way you would entertain any dalliance between the two of you.

With that comforting thought, Aegon turns around with a confident smirk only for it to fall when he realizes you are gone. And so is Daeron.

Aegon’s bleary eyes jump around the room, hoping you’ve retreated back into your corner. Instead he sees a flash of your black dress as it disappears into the hallway.

Aegon clenches the glass in his hand and stumbles along the edges of the room until he’s out in the hallway. It’s long and wide and lined up with doors on either sides. He curses his father for living in such an enormous house.

His pulse quickens when he spots you and Daeron farther down the hall. His brother’s hand is on the small of your back, stopped in front of an open door. Light from within illuminates the sweet smile you give his brother. Hot jealousy spurs Aegon forward, but his feet stumble and he falls heavily to the ground. The remainder of his drink spills along the plush carpet.

Aegon calls your name, a weak attempt is all he can manage, just as the door closes and you and Daeron disappear. His head spins and he sinks against the wall, the image of your face in the light the final memory he clings to as he plummets down into the dark pit of unconsciousness.

—

The wedding ceremony is a vision of green and gold. His mother had insisted it be the color scheme for the wedding and you hadn’t objected. She’d have you walk down the aisle in green if she could, but you wear the traditional white dress.

Like a ghost you walk among the sea of living people to take your place beside him. Vows are exchanged. Aegon gives your lips a peck to make it official. Your mothers shed a tear, and your fathers smile victoriously.

You and Aegon March out of the church, and are transported to a dining hall. Another dinner. This one to commemorate the sacrifice of your lives for your now united family’s continued wealth and prosperity.

Although he and his new bride are perched on a platform above the others, no one pays them any attention. They revel in their victory. Eat and drink and negotiate their next corporate venture.

When the food is served you and Aegon are the first to receive a plate. He doesn’t have much of an appetite. You on the other hand, contrary to last night, immediately dig into your food. You cut a piece of meat and bring it to your mouth along with a sautéed carrot.

There’s something different about you today. He’s sure it’s not the joy of being a newlywed. Though you don’t look at him, he can tell the defeated air you carried around yesterday is no longer a burden for today. He ponders for a moment what it could be, then your eyes dart across the room briefly, and he follows them.

Aegon’s mouth forms a hard line when he spots Daeron nodding in your direction. It’s a brief gesture before he returns to talking to one of his cousins. But it’s enough to get Aegon’s blood boiling and remembering what he’d witnessed last night.

“I saw you last night,” Aegon says suddenly, staring at the side of your head as you skewer another carrot with your fork.

“I saw you, too,” you respond dryly. “You were draining glass after glass.”

“Don’t try to deflect. I saw you and Daeron.”

If his words affect you, you don’t show it. But Aegon knows what he saw, how close Daeron had been to you. And he won’t let you deny it.

“I saw him take you down the hall,” Aegon insists.

You nod. “He did.”

“I saw his hand on you.”

“A common gesture between a gentleman and a lady.”

“I saw you both go into that room,” Aegon seethes, tiring of your cool responses.

“Aegon.” Your brow furrows. “That is a serious accusation.”

“It’s true.”

Aegon is alight with vindication. He’s caught you. For all of your righteous silence to punish him you end up being just like him. Finding another body to heal the pain of your wounds.

“Daeron was leading me to the bathroom,” you explain. “I’ve only been to your parents’ home once before and I couldn’t remember the way.”

“Bullshit.”

“He stayed outside the door and waited for me. And on our way back do you know what we found?”

The fire in Aegon’s eyes dims. His back tenses. He knows exactly what you found.

“Why, it was you.” Your gaze locks onto him, not shying away. “Passed out and drooling on the carpet.”

“I know what I saw,” Aegon insists, though his words don’t have the bite they did a minute ago.

“Your mother wasn’t happy about the stain on the carpet.”

Aegon grips the edge of the table, knuckles turning whiter that his already pale skin. “You bitch.”

“Your brothers had to haul you back to your room.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree. “So maybe you’d better think very hard about what you think you remember.”

“But, I…” He falters, unsure what it is exactly he wants to say.

“Aegon, I’ve only ever wanted to get along with you.” You sigh and put down your fork. He feels the warmth of your hand over his where he still grips the table. “I admit I distanced myself from you after my party, but I want us to at least try to get along. We are married now after all. We knew we could never stop it. So why not make the best of it?”

Aegon looks down at your hand. You thumb smooths over his skin to coax his hand to relax and release its grip. He sits back against his chair and stares at you. He nods. You smile and return to eating.

A wave of defeat washes over him. He’d been so sure of what he saw. Daeron’s hand was on your back, leading you to the door. He shits his eyes and tries to remember what happened.

Aegon saw the door close, the hallway shrouded in darkness. He lifted his head to call out to you. But there’s a faint silhouette now. It stands guard. But that can’t be right. Didn’t Daeron go in with you?

Aegon’s eyes jump open. He reaches for an empty wine glass, uncorks the bottle of champagne, and tilts it to pour himself a generous amount. He pauses. The lip of the bottle rests against the rim of the glass as he contemplates whether to go through with it. It wouldn’t be his first drink of the day.

He wants a clear head to sort through this. To reassess what is real and what he might have conjured in his own head. But then he thinks about you and how you’re the only one who’s been the most genuine and pleasant around him.

He glances at the seven pointed star resting on your chest. A gift from his mother, a golden symbol of your shared virtue.

Aegon is comforted by this and pours himself a glass of champagne.

#catalog #i’ll cry if i want to ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #60s au

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bungalowbear · 2 years

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I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x reader (60s AU)

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Your birthday party takes an unexpected turn.

A/N: Here’s my very first fic for a HOTD character. I must thank @inthedayswhenlandswerefew because I wasn’t an Aegon girlie at all until I started reading her phenomenal series North to the Future. Definitely check it out if you haven’t already. And I hope you enjoy this little thing too!

You sit at your vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror. From an early age, the idea of maintaining outward appearances has always been instilled in you. To this day your mother lectures you before any social gatherings, no matter how public or private. In the privacy of your bedroom her voice echoes the loudest in your mind as you sit in silence.

There should never be a hair out of place.

Every word you speak has to be the right one.

What you look like reflects back onto the family. Especially your father.

You roll your eyes. You’d go out to dinner in your pajamas with bed head to stick it to your father if he wasn’t the one paying the rent for your apartment. You hate to admit that you’ve become accustomed to this lavish lifestyle. But while it had its advantages, it wasn’t without its downsides.

You had gone to the salon earlier in the week to get a touch up on your permanent to straighten out your natural hair that was growing out at your roots. The first time you had the treatment done you cried at the burn all along your scalp from the chemicals. You’d learned to hide your pain after your mother scolded you for embarrassing her in public.

You turn your head to see your hair at different angles. Done in a respectable updo with a short bouffant like the one you’d seen on Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, you deem your hair complete. Your fiancé likes to poke fun and tell you it resembles a bee hive, but you quite like the style.

Scoffing at the childish remark, you lean closer to the mirror and apply a final coat of mascara onto your lashes. After your make up is done you walk over to your closet and change into your cocktail dress. It slips onto your figure with ease, having just come back from the tailor’s. You needed the hem adjusted to end just below your knees.

You face the full length mirror and admire the jewel neckline and how this particular shade of green goes well with your white heels and compliments your skin tone. A modest square bow of the same shade of green cinches the fabric around your waist just slightly to give a hint of your figure. You give your body a slow twirl to check every inch of yourself in the mirror and exhale, pleased with the final product.

For the first time today you don’t feel dread weighing you down. Reflected in the mirror is the shining image of all your hard work to create the most excellent version of yourself. Pride makes your heart soar and you tell yourself there is absolutely nothing that can ruin your night.

Your hand flies to your chest, startling when music suddenly blares through your apartment. You look at your reflection once more before leaving your bedroom and heading to the living room, where you find your fiancé with a tumbler of dark liquid in his hand and looking through your record collection. He’s dressed in a dark green double breasted blazer with a black turtleneck shirt underneath and matching trousers. His head, covered in nearly white hair and combed back neatly, bobs in rhythm as Ray Davies’ voice fills the room.

“Aegon!” you call from across the room. “Could you turn down the volume?”

The music is so loud that he can’t hear you. You let out a huff and march over to the record player and turn the sound dial so that the music lowers to a tolerable level.

“Not so loud.” You speak before a complaint can pass through Aegon’s parted lips. “Otherwise Mrs. Tyrell from upstairs will come down and complain. And nobody wants that.”

He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Does your mother know you listen to The Kinks?”

“No.” Your eyes dart to the record sleeve in his hand. “And you’re not going to tell her.”

“She won’t hear it from me,” he promises, throwing back the remainder of the brown liquid. “I just assumed you were a Lesley Gore kind of girl.”

You roll your eyes, deciding not to encourage him with a verbal response. But before you can walk away Aegon takes your hand as the next songs begins to play and he starts to dance. You frown. You aren’t in the mood to entertain him, and there are so many things to do before your guests arrive.

“Aegon,” you try to pull your arm free, “not now.”

“Come on. Just a bit of fun between us before the vultures descend.”

“Those vultures are our friends,” you emphasize. “And your brother and sister.”

You glare at Aegon when he shrugs once more. You try to pull away again, but he only holds onto you tighter. You stand still for a minute while Aegon moves his hips and raises his arms one after the other as he does The Jerk. Your resolve slowly wanes as Aegon raises your joined hands above your head and walks a circle around you. His grin is infectious and you can’t help mirror him. So you give in to temptation and join him in the dance.

You raise a finger at him. “One song.”

Your mouth is now split in an ear to ear smile as you face Aegon. You Really Got Me plays as you dance together in the living room.

A warm feeling blooms within you, so different than how you usually feel around Aegon. He never seemed interested in knowing you, or even tolerating you, until now. Although his mother had deemed his presence mandatory at your party, you were glad he didn’t completely resent you for it. Perhaps if love couldn’t come out of your marriage, then you’d settle for at least a friendship.

Both of your fathers were wealthy and powerful businessmen. Your father owned an advertising agency and Aegon’s father was the current patriarch of the Targaryen family and their fortune. Their business went back several generations, establishing their stake in a variety of areas. Coal, banking, imports. Just to name a few. And now they wanted in on the advertising business, which is where you and Aegon come in. Two strangers brought together to be the bridge between your two families.

While Aegon was quite handsome, it did not distract you from the open secret that was his notorious reputation. He drank at seemingly all hours of the day and had a very active night life. Though since your engagement party’s month prior, you haven’t heard of any recent escapades. You like to think perhaps he’s turned over a new leaf.

The song ends and you both share a quiet few moments before the next one begins. Aegon thanks you for the dance and you chuckle out a response before you go back to readying for the party and he heads back to the bar by the balcony windows for a refill.

You’ve been planning your birthday party for a few weeks now. Everything from decorations, to food, even the music was meticulously chosen. This would be the first time you and Aegon make a social appearance together since your engagement party. It goes without saying that everything needs to go perfectly tonight.

There’s a knock at the door. You straighten and make your way over. Aegon appears beside you, scotch in hand. He heaves a sigh and looks at you. The corner of his lips turn up in a smirk.

“And so it begins.”

You nod in agreement. Your lips curve in a pretty smile when you open the door and greet your first guests, and for every guest that arrives after. Aegon is by your side for the first hour or so. He’s animated as you both walk around the wide open space of your living room and mingle. He talks with his hands as he recounts a story from when he was a child and you can’t help the way your eyes stay glued to him, charmed with every words he speaks. Your smile falters though when you notice the glassiness of his eyes and the way his words begin to slur.

Eventually, when the party’s in full swing, Aegon’s pulled away by one of his college friends and you find your own group of close friends. You sit on the leather sofa and immediately are bombarded with questions about the wedding.

Have you picked a date?

What color for your theme?

Chicken or fish?

As you answer one question after another you’ve kept your eye on Aegon. Seeing him here and there, stance becoming more unsteady as the night goes on. But when your eyes scan the room again after talk of the wedding has turned to high society gossip, you can’t find him.

You excuse yourself and make your way around the room, casually asking a few people if they’d seen your fiancé. When no one seems to know where he’s disappeared to you think to check the other rooms next. You take one last glance around the living room and realize you hadn’t seen Diane, a friend of yours from college, in a while either. She was actually more of an acquaintance, but her mother was a friend of your’s and insisted you invite her.

You knew Aegon was a flirt. A notorious bachelor. And you incorrectly assumed his appetite for women would be curbed after your engagement. Perhaps it was the naive girl within you that thought you could change him. But as you stand at the entrance of the hallway, you can’t ignore the raucous sounds that float from behind the bathroom door. And neither can anyone else when the song that plays from the record player lulls to an end.

Shame makes your cheeks burn and your eyes water. You sense eyes on you. Hear the whispers floating amid the music even after it starts up again.

There’s a sudden sensation that takes over you. A tingle starting at the back of your head and traveling down your arms. It overcomes you completely and you can’t make it go away. So you make a decision.

You turn on your heels and march over to the bar. You trade your martini glass for a tumbler of bourbon. Bodies part for you as you then make your way to the record player. You pick up the needle and the music stops with a high pitched scratch. You can hear the sounds from the bathroom again and you can feel that everyone collectively halts what they’re doing, watching you as you grab the album The Kink Kontroversy from the shelf below. You hold your glass in the crook on your elbow as you rip the record from its sleeve and drop it on the turntable. You lower the needle and the room fills with static before the first notes start and then slowly the room reverts to what it was.

You stand in front of the record player and sway to the hypnotic lyrics of The World Keeps Going Round. As the final chords of the song play you finish your drink in two long gulps. You twirl your body, raising your hands as you begin to dance alone in the middle of the room. You vaguely register a pair of hands attempting to coax you to sit down but you shrug them off.

Your head lolls from one side to the other and your gaze lands on Aegon’s brother Aemond and his wife, tucked into a corner of the room. He leans into her, whispering something in her ear, and she hides a smile behind her glass. Jealousy courses through you. You want what they have, but know you never will. You have always done what you were told and you were a fool to believe you would be rewarded for it.

It isn’t until Aegon emerges from within the bathroom, blazer unbuttoned and tucking his shirt back into his trousers while Diane follows behind him wiping the corner of her mouth, that you stop dancing. You turn sharply, almost stumbling in your tipsy haze, and make another beeline for the bar.

Aegon comes up behind you. His cheeks are flushed and there’s a thin layer of sweat across his forehead.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You don’t look at him when you answer. “Getting a drink.”

Aegon’s hand cradles your chin gently as he turns it to face him. His eyes scan your face before he swipes his thumb across your cheek to catch the tears that fall from your eyes. You didn’t realize you started crying and silently thank the gods for your waterproof mascara.

“I meant why are you crying in front of everyone?”

You sniffle.

“Pull yourself together.” Aegon frowns as he grabs the drink from your hand and walks away.

Your brows pinch together while you arrange another drink, quietly seething. This is your party. Not his. You put in all the work to make this night happen. Not him.

Another tear rolls down your cheek, but you don’t clear it away. You straighten your back and lift your chin. You want to change the record. You’re in the mood for some Lesley Gore.

Part 2

#catalog #i’ll cry if i want to #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon

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