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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year ago

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Denouement (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Art by the lovely and talented: @barbiedragon be sure to take a look at the moodboard at then end, too!

When the daughter of Lord Swann is sent to King’s Landing to find a match to improve her family’s damaged reputation, Prince Aegon is eager to learn whether she takes after her famous cousin, the Black Swann of Lys. But he learns more than he ever wanted to - about her, and himself.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x House Swann!Reader

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, attempted rape/non-con, Aegon swears a bunch

This is my submission for the @hotd-bigbang ! Shout out to everyone who participated, especially @ewanmitchellcrumbs for being an amazing organizer!

Denouement

Aegon was sprawled across his bed, entirely unclothed and clutching a mostly empty bottle of wine. How much of the wine he had drunk, and how much of it had sloshed down his chin and chest to dampen the sheets below him, he neither knew nor cared.

He had planned to go back to Fleabottom and find a cheap cunt or two to relieve him of his frustrations. Yet every time he tried to get off the bed, it was like some invisible force pushed him back down into the mattress. He simply could not get up if he tried – and he did try.

Well, he tried once.

But it was hot, and the wine was very good. Besides, there were plenty of women in the Red Keep for him to choose from, even though they wouldn’t be quite as easy as the whores. He decided that after a short nap, he’d go find one. Or perhaps one would come to him – it was about the time of day when a maid or two would come to replace his bedding, after all.

He was just about to doze off into a dream of forever burying himself in some woman’s soft, enormous breasts when trumpets blared from the courtyard below, startling him so much that his poor wine bottle tumbled to the floor and broke apart.

“Oh, fuck off!” he shouted to no one in particular.

The blaring noise had set his ears ringing and his head aching, making it entirely impossible for him to now find sleep. He slung his arm over his eyes and let out a protracted groan of extreme displeasure. What was supposed to be a relaxing day of drinking and fucking was now thoroughly ruined.

More noise began to float up to his window from the courtyard. Infuriated and somewhat vengeful, Aegon crawled across the bed and draped himself over its edge to grab another bottle of wine – this one empty, but intact. He had it raised behind his head, ready to send it through the window when he finally heard what the voice in the courtyard was saying.

The Lord Matthos Swann, and his daughter, Lady Swann.

Swann… Aegon knew that name somehow. It prickled something in his memory that he was, at this moment, too drunk to reach. But the prickling was enough to bother him, enough to make him drop his bottle and slump back into his sheets, close his eyes, and try to sort through the chaotic workings of his mind.

He did not know why this particular piece of information was so important for him to remember, but it felt important nevertheless. So much so that when two little maids came to change his bedding, Aegon shouted at them to leave rather than attempt to bring one of them into his bed.

Helaena came and went, reminding him that there was to be a welcome feast for the noble houses that were just arriving in the capital, and he was expected to attend. He rolled over and clamped his pillow around his head, and she soon left.

It was not until the sun had nearly set and the wine had nearly faded from his blood that Aegon howled with triumph as he sat bolt upright and threw his pillow in the air in glee.

“Johanna Swann!” he exclaimed as he fell onto his back, a wide grin on his face as he stared at his ceiling, remembering the bawdy tales he’d heard of the Black Swan of Lys.

He had only been a babe when Lady Johanna was kidnapped by pirates of the triarchy. They’d asked for a ransom from her uncle, but he refused, and she was then sold as a courtesan in the most infamously libidinous city in the world. Since then, she had become the most powerful person in the city, all thanks to her apparently magical cunt. Every so often, her latest doings would appear in the gossip of the Red Keep.

Oh, how some of those tales titillated Aegon when he was young. He had even encountered a small portrait of Johanna, hung in a place of honor at one of his former favorite brothels as if she were a goddess.

But it couldn’t be Johanna herself, he realized with no small amount of disappointment. She would have been announced on her own, not as merely the daughter of Lord Swann.

Who was it, then? A cousin, a sister, or maybe some distant relation brought into the family to try and repair their reputation?

Whoever it was, Aegon instantly decided that he not only needed to meet her, but he would have to sample her as well, to determine whether Johanna’s prowess was her achievement alone, or if it was a skill this new Lady Swann would possess, too.

When Aegon arrived in the Great Hall, his hair was still visibly damp from dunking his head into the cold water of his washbasin in a hasty attempt to make himself at least somewhat presentable. The formal introductions had already finished, and the meal was halfway over. He received a quiet scolding from his mother as he slipped into his seat, but she seemed relieved that he’d shown up at all, so it could have been much worse.

His father, as always, ignored him entirely. Not even a look of greeting to his firstborn son.

As soon as he sat, Helaena turned to him and held out a stuffed beetle that she’d snuck into the Great Hall. It must have been a new one, for he had not seen it before. It had black and white stripes that extended across its body from tail to antennae, save for one white patch with only a circle of black in it. With its neat appearance and long antennae, it was very nearly elegant – for a bug.

“Very pretty, Hel,” he whispered, giving her the best smile he could when he was looking at an insect just before eating.

Helaena smiled back, pride shining in her eyes. Then her face went blank, and her hands tremored slightly. She’d had episodes like this before, even when she was too young to speak. It was during these that she rambled nonsensical words that Aegon could never understand.

“Black and white, death and life, evil and good,” she whispered. “Neither triumph. All fades to gray.”

Aegon cringed slightly, usually her ramblings weren’t so negative. They usually made him feel uncomfortable, but something about these particular words greatly disturbed him. He shivered, as if a cold wind brushed against the back of his neck. He gave Helaena a weak smile and turned to his food.

It took him a while – and half a chicken, two rolls of bread slathered with butter, and a pile of vegetables that he only ate so his mother wouldn’t scold him – to brush off the last of his unsettlement and finally look across the gathered nobles scattered at the four great tables that had been set in the Great Hall.

Unfortunately, he looked up just as servants were moving those tables to make room for a dance floor, and what was a smattering of bright colors soon became a whirling, twirling mass of more colors than Aegon could count or name. Reds, blues, greens, oranges, obnoxiously bright yellows, and even a few pinks and purples all swirling together in an ostentatious and nauseating display.

However, it made it easier for Aegon to spot his target for the night. For though she did wear a gown to match the heraldry of her house, the Swann colors were simply black and white.

Aegon’s wine-blurred vision cleared as he finally set eyes on her.

This young Lady Swann was beautiful.

And yet she bore little resemblance to the depiction of the Black Swan that he’d seen in the brothel. Her coloring was different, her features softer, and her eyes – demurely downcast – far kinder.

Despite her beauty, there was not a single hint of a seductress in her.

Her gown proved as much. It was finely made and surely expensive, but there far too much of it – a neckline more prudish than even his mother’s, long voluminous sleeves that hid her hands, and a puffy mountain of skirts that left her figure a mystery.

One that Aegon was not quite sure was worth solving.

Still, his curiosity was piqued. At least enough to keep an eye on her while he perused what were certainly easier options.

Nearly every detail he learned about her was a disappointment. She was very intelligent. She was pious. She was obedient – although that was something he could turn into an asset. Even her sobriquet, ‘The White Swan,’ was dull. ‘The Black Swan’ was far more intriguing. A white swan was just an ordinary bird.

She was nothing like her more famous cousin. Or sister. He still hadn’t figured that out.

What was the point of coming here, then? Aegon supposed he at least looked nice and clean for when he inevitably snuck out to the Street of Silk. The girls were always more pleasant when he was clean.

“You appear unusually deep in thought, brother.”

Indeed, he had been so busy deciding where on the Street he wanted to go tonight that he didn’t see Aemond approaching until he spoke.

Aegon scowled and took a long drink from his wine to give himself time to concoct an answer. “Just observing the new arrivals.”

“Observing them for what purpose, exactly?” Aemond asked, looking briefly at Helaena, who was still sitting in her chair and not-so subtly playing with whatever insect she had brought with her.

Aegon narrowed his eyes as he understood the implication behind that glance. Why must Aemond always harp on about this if Helaena herself didn’t give a shit?

“I may be a married man, but that does not mean I cannot appreciate beauty when I see it.”

“If only you stopped at mere appreciation.”

“At least I am able to comprehend the beauty of a woman, and possess the skills to do something about it,” Aegon snapped back. A low blow, perhaps, not that he cared all that much if he hurt Aemond’s feelings. If he even had them.

But Aemond did not snap back, nor did he retreat to sulk on his own or to dote on Helaena. He sighed and turned back to the crowd. “Many young ladies arrived today. Is there one in particular who has caught your eye?”

Aegon’s brows rose in surprise. Not since their trip to the Steet of Silk on Aemond’s thirteenth nameday had he asked his elder brother about women. Or even really mentioned one – at least, not one that they weren’t related to. He even once said that he never wanted to see another person naked ever again.

“And why do you care, Aemond?” Aegon noted the glimmer of resigned frustration on his brother’s face and broke into a wide smile. “Oh! Have mother and Otto finally declared that you must find a bride?”

“Hmm.”

“Aha! That means yes!” Aegon exclaimed. Perhaps coming here would not be a waste, if he had the opportunity to watch Aemond attempt to flirt with various ladies. “Did you actually think you could remain unmarried forever?”

Aemond sighed. “One can hope. Will you please answer my question now?”

Looking back at the dancing crowd, Aegon considered the question. There was a lovely brunette in a shiny green dress. A stunning blonde in red. A girl with piercing blue eyes wearing pink. And one young lady with the most magnificent breasts he’d ever seen threatening to spill from her yellow dress at any moment.

Yet even with all the delicious treats in front of him, his eyes kept going back to the girl in black and white standing to the side of the dancefloor, smiling at the dancers, but never joined. She had a very soft smile, her pretty lips curving ever so gently.

He knew she would never let him taste those lips.

But that didn’t mean she had to go to waste. A lovely, intelligent, pious girl who likely had as little interest in the art of the bed as Aemond might make a perfect pair. Though when Aegon turned back to his brother and opened his mouth, he could not say it.

Aemond raised a brow expectantly.

“Well, her, obviously!” Aegon pointed to the girl in pink with the blue eyes, then tapped Aemond’s eyepatch. “You’d match.”

There was a tense silence between them, Aemond scowling down at Aegon for a long moment before turning and stalking off without another word.

Aegon laughed to himself before turning back to Lady Swann across the Great Hall. There were objectively more beautiful women who would likely leap at the chance to gain his favor by joining him in his bed. Many of them in the very room where he stood. Yet he was most drawn to her.

Why had she captivated him so?

More importantly, how could he get rid of this feeling?

He forced himself to turn away, pour more wine in his goblet, and down the entire thing. The alcohol helped clear his mind as it settled in his stomach. Fully back in his comfortably intoxicated glaze, he was finally able to think.

The answer was simple: he just needed to take her once, confirm that there was truly no reason for this strange, involuntary obsession. Then he would move on to the next conquest – most likely that girl in yellow with the massive breasts.

Yes, it was that simple. It had to be.

Lady Swann excused herself from the feast early, leaving alongside those guests whose hair had long since gone gray. Her father only allowed it because she claimed the music and bright colors of the ballroom was beginning to hurt her head. In truth, she had simply tired of it all.

Crowds of such size had always overwhelmed her. Not for ordinary shyness, she quite enjoyed the company of others. That ended the moment she found out that the quick glances people gave her were not for the desire to know her, but for their curiosity about her – if she had been influenced in any way by her infamous cousin.

It did not matter that she had been only an infant when Johanna was captured and had had no contact with her since. Every so often, Johanna would send her father a letter, which was either ignored or thrown in the fire.

As a child, Lady Swann often wished that she knew her cousin. That Johanna hadn’t been kidnapped. That her father had paid her ransom. That some gallant knight had travelled to Lys to rescue her. That she herself had not grown up as the only child in Stonehelm.

No god granted her wishes. Nor the stars, nor the sun or moon, not even the Weirwood tree she had once visited at some keep her father took her to which she no longer remembered the location or name of.

So, she was alone. Sometimes, her father’s visitors would bring their own children, and she would ask them as many questions as she could before they left. She wanted to know everything about them – where they lived, what they did for fun, and what they did with their other friends. They always had other friends at home.

When her father told her they were coming to court for a few moons turns, she had been thrilled. Finally, she would be able to spend more than a few days with people her own age, get to hear stories from all over the realm, perhaps even make actual friends – ones who would not leave after only a few days.

But when they arrived, the stares were immediate. The disdain at her father for not paying his niece’s ransom. The pity for her, and the curiosity about whether she had been somehow corrupted by her cousin.

Making friends would not be as easy as she thought.

Worse, it seemed none of the young men even wanted to be friends with her. They were far more interested in courting her, and many of them were so persistent that it nearly scared her. And while the young women were polite, it was without much sincerity. They all looked at her in suspicion when they thought she wasn’t looking.

So, she feigned a headache and left the feast early.

Her father had remained behind. There were more lords and merchants he still wanted to talk to, it seemed. She had the sense that he would do far more to secure her betrothal than she herself would. Though she was at peace with that, she still hoped her future husband would be relatively kind and from an interesting place.

Suddenly, she realized that she had been so deep in her thoughts that she had wandered somewhere unfamiliar - in the intersection of two dark corridors. All the halls of the Red Keep looked practically identical, but she still had the sense that she had never been there before. There weren’t any windows nearby, so she did not even know what part of the castle she was in.

She stood there for a moment, wondering which pathway to take, when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She turned to face what she expected to be a servant who could direct her back to her rooms but froze when she saw who it really was.

Prince Aegon.

He looked different than he had at the feast. His distant, morose expression was gone, replaced by a sly smile and a low brow over hooded purple eyes. Even when she was still, he continued approaching, like a cat stalking a mouse.

Gods, her father had warned her about this. Had told her to stay away from the prince, and any other man who approached her like that.

She should run, she told herself. But where would she go? She didn’t know where she was, or how to get back to her rooms. Surely the prince knew the halls better than her and was likely much faster.

Her fear held her in place and numbed her enough that she didn’t feel it when the prince wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into a dark alcove partway down one of the halls. Nor did she feel the cool stone against her back when he pushed her against the wall and pressed himself close to her.

“My dear Lady Swann,” he purred, his voice low and melodic, even when laced with darkness. “You’ve driven me absolutely mad tonight, and yet you would be so cruel as to leave without apologizing?”

What was he talking about? They hadn’t spoken at the feast. He wasn’t even there when she was introduced to the royal family. How could she have possibly offended him?

“I am sorry, my prince,” she whispered, her voice seeming foreign. “For whatever I did to make you feel this way, I am very sorry.”

He let out a laugh that sounded half like a purr as he brought his face close to hers. He ran his nose along her cheek until his mouth was a hair’s breadth away from her ear. His breath was hot and reeked of wine. “How sweet of you to apologize, my lady. Though I am still not quite satisfied. But I know a way you can make it up to me…”

All the blood left her body, leaving her hardly more than a shell. This was exactly what her father had warned her about – what she feared most about coming to the palace.

Still, she could not run. The prince was far stronger than her, and she knew her legs would betray her if she tried.

No one was coming to save her, and she could not save herself.

She bowed her head and prayed to the gods who had never answered her. Though she expected nothing from them, she hoped at least one of them would watch, so she didn’t have to endure this alone. Perhaps they would even pity her.

When she finished her prayer, she willed her body to relax. Prince Aegon made a soft sound of surprise and pulled her flush against him. One hand rose to roughly cradle her face, while the other floated down to her hip. A possessive and entirely unmannerly touch.

“Please, my prince,” she begged. “Do what you must, I will not fight you. I simply ask that you are gentle with me, and that you not leave marks upon my body. I do not want my father to know my shame.”

She felt the prince’s body stiffen, his grip around her waist so tight her breathing shallowed.

Then he released her and stepped away.

After a moment to regain her breath, she raised her head to look at the prince. He stood several steps away from her, frowning. His eyes were distant, his confusion clear. He met her gaze and shook his head slightly.

“I…” He looked almost disgusted. At what, she did not know. In fear of what he may yet do to her, she remained still, only lowering her eyes.

He scoffed, then sighed, then he left.

She counted his steps as he retreated. Ten… twenty… thirty… She reached 47 before the sound was too distant for her to hear.

Still, she did not move. Her mind raced as she tried to process every strange thing that had just happened. Her fear. The dark look in the prince’s eyes. His breath against her cheek. His grip on her– both hard and soft. How he had stepped away from her with near revulsion on his face.

While she was grateful that he had done nothing but briefly hold her, she did not understand why. Though, did it really matter, so long as she was unharmed and unspoiled?

It may have been a single minute, or many hours, but finally, Lady Swann pulled away from the wall and once again began to wander, eventually finding her way back to her rooms.

She did not sleep that night.

Aegon was sprawled across his bed, still clothed and clutching a still corked bottle of wine. There was not a chance he would make it to the Street of Silk that night, not when he could not bring himself to open the wine or undress himself.

All he could do was think about Lady fucking Swann.

The way she had so entirely captured his attention. How her dress swayed as she wandered through the castle halls. The shock in her gorgeous eyes as she realized that he was the one following her. The way her body felt against his. The soft whisper of her voice. Her words…

What the fuck did those words do to him?

Most of the women he’d approached like that had fought him – screamed, tried to push him away, or hit and scratched him, or sometimes all of it. She’d not fought him at all. She’d practically gone limp in his arms, then gave him permission to do whatever he wanted to her, so long as he didn’t leave a mark.

It was that last bit that got to him – the no marks. He’d never cared what bruises or scratches he’d left on the women he fucked. Never even looked to see if there were any before either leaving or dismissing them.

But with her… the thought of leaving marks on her confused him.

In part, it excited him. Some buried territorial instinct, perhaps because of the dragon blood that was said to run in his veins, practically preened at the idea of claiming her so thoroughly. He wanted everyone to know that she was his. It was a feeling he’d never had with any of his previous partners.

The other part, however, imagined her covered in red and purple marks and grew furious. No one and nothing – not even him – should be allowed to hurt her in any way. She was too pure, too innocent. She was a perfect white swan, and he would let no one sully her.

He just couldn't figure out why he felt that way.

Since he first learned he could, Aegon had fucked as many women as he possibly could – women of all ages, shapes, and temperaments. He had never cared for any of them in this way. Except, of course, Helaena. But even that wasn’t an exact match to what he felt now.

With Helaena, his protectiveness was because she was his sister. He loved her, and wanted to care for her, but it wasn’t a romantic love. Hells, there wasn’t even lust between them. Their children were only conceived because they knew it was expected of them. It was a struggle each time, even for Aegon.

Yet he felt so much for this girl he’d barely met, who he had very nearly dishonored, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Still, Aegon would try. And the first step was to take care of his painfully hard cock, which had been fully at attention since he first saw his Lady Swann smile.

For two weeks, Aegon fucked as often as he could. Serving girls, noble ladies, professional whores, and even his fist when needed. None of it brought him the satisfaction he sought – the end of whatever it was he felt for Lady Swann.

It didn’t help that he saw her so often. She was at every meal and event, and even sometimes in an obscure part of the keep that he had been sure would be safe from her.

And there were always other men flirting with her. Handsome lordlings, overconfident heirs, even a few gnarled old lechers. He should have expected it, as it was clear her father brought her to the capital to find a husband, but each time he saw another man make her smile, or brush his hand with hers, or even so much as look at her with lust in his eyes, he wanted to run them through and spit on their corpses.

His rides on Sunfyre grew longer, farther, and more furious. It was not uncommon now for great bursts of golden flame to appear in the skies around King’s Landing.

Finally, Aegon broke. After sixteen days of desperate drinking, flying, and fucking, he simply could not take another moment of this turmoil. He looked out the window for a moment, letting the bright sun set his resolve, and set out to confront his tormentor.

Each afternoon, all the eligible young ladies staying at the Red Keep and in the surrounding estate houses gathered in the courtyard of the Weirwood Tree so the bachelors seeking a wife knew where to find them. Reluctantly, Lady Swann joined them.

By now, many of the women had already fully captured the attention of at least one man, so the gatherings were thankfully not as frantic as that first feast had been. And since no men had decided to focus their wooing efforts on her, she was able to simply relax with her back against the Weirwood, watch its leaves sway, and attempt to capture their beauty in her sketchbook. All in all, it was a rather peaceful way for her to spend her afternoons.

Until Prince Aegon again came looking for her.

The soft noises of conversation immediately halted, drawing her attention away from her current study of the many veins within a fallen red leaf. She looked up and saw the prince pushing aside lords and ladies alike as he stomped towards her.

He did not look like he had that night. Then, his gaze was full of lust. Now, those violet eyes only held anger. Terrible, bone chilling anger.

Several of those gathered in the courtyard fled. More still stayed, positioning themselves far enough away to satisfy decorum, but close enough that they would be able to hear everything. Though it was, in the end, unnecessary.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The prince roared – so loudly that several birds left their perches in the tree and flew out of sight.

She was speechless, her heart pounding so fast and hard she was sure he could hear it.

“Answer me!” the prince shouted, now so close to her that she could see nothing but him. His reddened eyes, his flushed cheeks, and the furious set of his brow.

Her lips fell open, and she stumbled over her own name as she gave it to him.

“You know that’s not what I mean, girl,” Prince Aegon sighed, pursing his lips and pressing her harder into the tree. “What did you do to me?”

“My prince, I have done nothing to you,” she pled, tears spilling from her eyes. Distantly, she heard yet more people leaving the courtyard, some of them wondering aloud if they should fetch a guard, or perhaps the queen.

“What are you?” It was like he hadn’t heard her words at all. “Some kind of witch, here to ruin me? Did Rhaenyra send you to destroy my reputation so she could ensure she takes the throne?”

She was so frightened that her mind was muddled, and in her frantic search for safety, she reached out and grabbed the first thing she could find. Unfortunately, that thing was Prince Aegon’s tunic.

He blanched and looked down at her fingers clutching the worn green fabric. When he faced her again, he did not look so angry – he looked almost afraid. “What are you doing to me?”

Lady Swann suppressed a sob and pulled her hands away. “I don’t know what you mean, my prince, please.”

The prince shook his head, finally taking a step back. “What you said to me… I don’t understand it. Why did you say it? What did it mean?”

“I…” She thought back to that night, the only time she had spoken to him, when she had said so little. “I wanted you to not hurt me, that is all.”

He frowned, his brows knitted together. “But you didn’t fight back. Why?”

“What could I have done to stop you?”

“But you didn’t even try,” he nearly begged. “Why didn’t you try?”

“Because my father warned me about you,” she answered, now savoring the grounding bit of the tree’s rough bark behind her. That pain was far more pleasant than this conversation. “I thought it would be… easier if I let you take what you wanted.”

Prince Aegon just stared at her. Not making a move to move closer or touch her. Like the very idea of someone near-willingly giving him what he wanted was unbelievable.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hardly believing it. Why did she feel the need to apologize to the man who had very nearly assaulted her, and who was now no doubt causing irreparable damage to her reputation. But there was something in his eyes that made pity wrench her heart. He was a wounded animal, and she could not let it die. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this way. And I’m sorry for whoever else hurt you to make you behave in this way.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

The rage returned to his eyes, and he reached out to seize her shoulders, pressing her against the Weirwood tree until she was certain her dress would tear. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” he hissed.

He shoved her once, then stepped away. “I don’t need anything from a whore like you!”

The gathered crowd poorly hid their gasps of surprise, and not so subtly watched the prince as he stomped out of the courtyard, somehow even angrier than he had been when he arrived. But they made no attempt to hide their stares when they turned back to Lady Swann. She could practically see the gossip forming in their heads.

Not wanting to hear their speculations, she fled from the courtyard.

At least now, she might not have to marry. For no one would want her after what Prince Aegon said.

Aegon was sick of sprawling out on his bed to contemplate the pile of dog shit that was his life. So, he let himself slide ungracefully to the floor, taking his fur blanket and an overstuffed bed with him.

Instinctively, he reached for a bottle of wine from the small crate he kept by his bedside. Alas, it was empty. He’d finished it all the day before and had therefore been so drunk he had not remembered to tell a servant to restock it.

It was probably for the best. He did not deserve the holy ecstasy a truly expensive bottle of Arbor Red brought him. Not after what he’d said to Lady Swann that afternoon.

How could he be so fucking stupid?

The obvious answer was that he was, in fact, fucking stupid. Yet it still felt like something beyond that. Something within him – the feelings he could not rid himself of – had taken away what little sense he still had, and stoked the fire of his anger until he could hardly see for his rage.

If he was a better man, he would apologize. But he was not a better man. He wasn’t even a good man – perhaps he never had been. Perhaps he was incapable of being a good man. Though, a truly bad man would not have considered that he should apologize.

Nor would a truly bad man be haunted by the warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever he remembered her final words. ‘I’m sorry for whoever else hurt you to make you behave in this way.’

As he gazed at the moon through his window, he had a revelation that utterly terrified him, down to his very bones – Lady Swann’s pity felt better than anything anyone else had felt for him.

Lady Swann had not been expecting anyone to call on her. Not a single suitor had called on her the evening prior, not after what happened between her and Prince Aegon. So when her lady’s maid announced she had a visitor, she was entirely unprepared. Her dress was old, but the most comfortable she owned, her hair had been left unbraided, and her eyes were still red from weeping.

What she was most unprepared for was seeing that her visitor was none other than Prince Aegon himself.

Quickly, and despite the fear welling in her gut, she curtsied. When she stood, she did not look him in the eye. “Welcome, my prince,” she greeted, wishing that her voice was not so wavering. “It is an honor to have you visit me.”

He laughed, a rich, deep sound. “Your manners are very fine, lady. But I do not delude myself in knowing that you are neither honored nor pleased to see me.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. He was right, of course, but his words were almost… kind? Or at the very least, not rude. Just when she opened her mouth to reply, he spoke again.

“Please, allow me to begin.” He waited for her to nod her approval before continuing. “I have come to apologize for my behavior. I have been quite rude to you – though that is a mild way of putting it.”

The prince sighed and let his shoulders droop slightly. “Your first impression of me could not have been worse. It was wrong and cruel of me to pursue you the way I did that first night. I apologize sincerely for that, though I know that is a great insult to forgive.”

“I most especially want to apologize for what I said yesterday. My words were harsh and spoken only in anger. I should not have said them in the first place, and certainly not in front of so many witnesses.” He wrung his hands, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I do not expect you to forgive me, but I hope that you will not allow my abhorrent behavior to ruin your visit. And I will take every measure to quell the rumors surrounding our encounter yesterday.”

Lady Swann was more surprised than she had been when she saw him first walk into the room. Not only had he apologized, but it seemed sincere, and almost eloquent. He was right, that forgiveness would not come today. Perhaps not ever. Yet she could not find it in her heart to hate him. At least, not yet.

“Why did you do it?” The question burst from her unconsciously. But she had to know.

Prince Aegon again sighed, then ran a hand through his unkempt, greasy hair. “As for why I followed you, there’s not a good excuse, I simply wanted to have you. At first, it was to see if you were as skilled as your sister… or cousin? The Black Swan, I mean.”

She felt her cheeks flush at the mention. Her stranger of a cousin would never stop haunting her. “She is my cousin.”

“Right, well,” he stared intently at her shoes peeking out from under the too short hem of her dress. “I wanted to find that out, but also, you were simply beautiful that night. And you are now, too, of course! But at the feast, I truly could not take my eyes off you. I needed you.”

“And yet you did not take me, as you have so many other women.”

“Yes, well…” He finally looked in her eyes again, but looked away not a moment later. “It was what you said, about not wanting me to leave marks. None had ever asked me that before, and imagining you bruised was simply too much for me. I could not bring myself to do it.

“But then, I couldn’t get you out of my head. Even when I was with…” his flush faded into a blanche, “No matter what I did, I could not stop thinking of you. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before, so I was, honestly, frightened. I let my fear turn to anger and my anger turn on you. I’m sorry.”

Lady Swann was silent, not knowing how to respond to the prince. He apparently took it as a sign she wanted him to continue.

“Then what you said, about someone hurting me and making me this way, that frightened me, too.” He laughed, the sound pained and inauthentic. “Because I don’t believe anyone made me this way, I’m just… rotten.”

At that, she finally found her words. “No one is rotten from the beginning,” she said, quoting something her Septa had once told her. “Everyone in born good, it is what happens to them and what they experience that rots them.”

Prince Aegon smiled. “That is a sweet sentiment, but I don’t think I agree. I cannot remember a single moment where I felt good.”

“For that, I am very sorry. That is something no one should feel.”

He looked at her intensely, as though she held some long-sought answers. “It is a bad feeling, yes. Though, you make me feel like not all of me is rotten. Like there is some shred of me that still longs for goodness. And you are so good…”

She smiled softly, unsure why a small thrill went through her at the words. “We have spoked very little; how can I make you feel that way?”

“I don’t know… but, if you are willing, I would very much like to find out why. And I don’t want to lose this feeling. If you would allow it, may I call on you again?”

There was something different in his eyes. Something that she only now noticed, as his eyes were no longer clouded by rage or lust. A great sadness – an eternal sadness. Like an entire ocean of tears, or an immortal grief.

She wanted to chase that sadness away. So, she inclined her head to hide her smile. “I will allow it, my prince.”

“Please, I would prefer you use my name.” He blushed nearly scarlet as he made the request, and smiled bashfully.

“Very well. I will allow you to visit me again, Aegon.”

Prince Aegon and Lady Swann began their friendship sitting in stuffed chairs on opposite sides of her solar. He was careful not to do or say anything that could be possibly misconstrued as a romantic or sexual advance. He wanted her to feel safe and comfortable. Most of all, he wanted her to like him. It didn’t matter if she ever felt the same longing he felt for her, so long as he could be near her, he was content.

After three turns of the moon, they began sitting on the couch together – but as far apart as they could be. Slowly, as she began to feel more comfortable looking him in the eyes, smiling at him, or even laughing at something he said, he began to return the gestures. He even grew comfortable enough to start trying to make her smile or laugh. Even though his heart sank every time he saw it, knowing he would never get to kiss it away.

After five more moon’s turns, they began to move closer. An inch every few days, until their legs were nearly touching. Aegon had to suppress the shiver than raced through his body each time they accidentally touched.

By the next moon’s turn, they hardly ever sat without touching – much to his delight. Some days, she would rest her head on his shoulder. Others, he would lie with his head in her lap. And on rare occasions, they laid across the couch together, with Aegon’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

He could almost be content with just this, not being able to kiss or touch her as he truly wanted to. But he knew it would one day disappear. She would marry, he would never see her again, and he would go right back to the way he was before her.

So, he cherished their afternoons together while he could. They never spoke about anything of consequence, but still, Aegon left her each day feeling happier than he had when he walked into her solar. And a little sad, for he knew he wouldn’t get to talk to her until the next day, and that one day, the conversation would be their last.

It usually took him at least a week to realize that they had spoken about something of consequence. Lady Swann had hidden a revelation she had somewhere within her gentle words, having figured out the source of his buried anger or a wrong that was done to him. Aegon never understood immediately, but once he did, he ran back to her the next day to talk more about how she knew, and what he could do to fix it.

He eventually came to privately call their meetings ‘good man lessons,’ for even though they never spoke of ancient philosophy or even religious morality, Lady Swan had a way of making him see more clearly the mistakes he had made and how he could be a better man.

He also came to privately calling her ‘hontītsos.’ Little bird. His little bird. The White Swan who sat on his shoulder and whispered her wisdom into his ear. Perhaps not the best metaphor, as swans were far too large to perch on his shoulder, and notoriously violent. But since it was only between them, he did not feel the need to come up with something cleverer.

As their friendship neared the end of its first year, he genuinely thought he’d been doing better. A better friend. A better brother. A better husband and father. A better son.

That had been his folly.

At the evening meal one night, he had spoken to his father. He tried to speak to him in the same way Lady Swann spoke to him when they first struck up their friendship, simply asking about the king’s day and if anything interesting happened.

Then the king called him ‘Daemon.’

His own father did not recognize him – his firstborn son.

He supposed it was to be expected. After all, the old man was decrepit and half-rotted beneath his gaudy golden mask. Surely that decay would have extended to his mind by now, if it hadn’t long ago. But still, it stung.

Aegon was the son his father had dreamed of, according to his mother. The boy fated to wear the conqueror’s crown. It seemed Viserys had forgotten that dream as well. He never forgot Rhaenyra. Only Aegon and his full-blooded siblings.

It was a hurt Aegon thought he was accustomed to. He remembered so clearly how his father had all but ignored him when he was young, especially once Rhaenyra’s bastards came along. He attempted to befriended the little runts to draw his father’s attention – to no avail. Though, he had been quite a shit in his youth.

Still, he had thought all his efforts to become a better man would make his father notice him, perhaps finally see him as a suitable son and or even an heir. He felt so foolish to think that. But he was comforted, in some small part, that he would talk to Lady Swann about it the next day. Then she would make him feel better. She would make him feel like the man he was trying so desperately to be.

The hours he had to wait to be beside her again were hell, but finally, he found himself once more lounging on a couch in her solar, his legs hanging over the armrest while his head was laid in Lady Swann’s lap. Her fingers combing through his hair was absolute bliss. Though they halted when he blurted out the sentence that had been clanging in his head since dinner the night before.

“You don’t want to be king?” she asked in disbelief, raising her brows in surprise.

Aegon smiled at the expression, she looked so pretty today. He nodded up at her. “To save my family, I would do it. But no, it is not what I would choose for myself.”

A short silence passed before she responded. He loved that, how she thought so carefully before speaking every time. “What would you choose for yourself, if you were given the chance?”

The question weighed on him like an anvil of iron on his chest. He had never even considered another option before. It had always been either become king, or be killed by Rhaenyra to eliminate any threats to her throne.

“I don’t know really,” he finally answered. “I never let myself think about it for too long.”

“Think about it now, then.”

He both loved and loathed how she challenged him. Of course, he knew it was good for him, but some days he just wanted to relax and bask in her very presence. She was the only comfort, save for his children, that he had found in this godsforsaken place. At least, since he had stopped drinking and fucking with abandon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the Street of Silk or had drunk more than a single goblet of wine at a meal.

“I’d leave Westeros,” he declared. “There are too many memories here. To many reminders.”

She thought about her answer for a moment, her eyes narrowing in the adorable way they always did when she was thinking very hard. “Wouldn’t you miss your family?”

“Yes, of course.” He began to truly think about the possibility, of how it would happen – How he could make it happen. “Perhaps I could take Helaena and the children with me. She would be glad to leave court, and the children are young enough that they wouldn’t remember anything before we left. Mother and Aemond wouldn’t leave, nor Daeron. But I would write to them often. More to mother than my brothers.

“I think I’d go to Braavos. I want to see that big statue they have and experience the cold. And I’d like to have my own boat to navigate the canals. That would be fun. I could be a fisherman! Though I’d have to first learn to fish… fisherman go out in the mornings, don’t they?” He looked up at her for confirmation. Of course, she would know, she knew everything, it seemed.

“I believe so,” she said with a mischievous smile. It was not one she wore often, but one he savored each time he saw it. “Which means you would have to learn to wake quite early. Do you think you could do so?”

“I could!” He feigned offense, but he knew she was right. Even now that his routine had changed, he still often didn’t wake until the sun was well into the sky. “But I’d have to find something to do the rest of the day. Hmm…”

Aegon stared at the ceiling, imagining what he could do if he was free of his obligations, if he would finally be able to do what he wanted. “I could learn to paint? Yes, I think I’d like that – to be able to create something beautiful. All by myself.”

She smiled down at him, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. The smile was genuine, he could tell, but laced with sadness. “That sounds like a wonderful life.”

“Of course, I would only go if you went with me.” He had not meant to say it. He didn’t want to scare her, not after spending so long rebuilding what he had broken with his first words to her. And yet, it was true. If he was imagining a perfect life, it would be incomplete without her there beside him.

“Aegon, I…” her smile had faded, leaving her looking down at him with wide, sad eyes.

“I would be too scared to be alone,” he said, raising himself from her lap so he could look her in the eyes. The temptation to reach out and take her hand was immense, but he resisted – he had already fucked this up enough today. “I’d need someone to talk to. Helaena and the children… I love them, but I can’t talk to them. Not in the way I do with you.”

She was silent for a long while – far longer than Aegon was really comfortable with. Then, she finally said the best thing he’d ever heard.

“I think I would like that, too.”

SWANN POV: After she tells him that her father would take her home soon, Aegon admits to LS that he loves her, and wishes that he’d met her before he’d been forced to marry Helaena because he loves her. Aegon comes up with an idea to keep her in King’s Landing

Lady Swann sighed in contentment as she laid upon the couch with Aegon in comfortable silence. She had not wanted to let their conversation end – not today. So, they sent for their evening meal to be delivered to her solar and continued to talk.

By now, Aegon’s eyes were closed as he rested his head in her lap while she absentmindedly traced the patterns of embroidery on his tunic, considering how impossible she once would have found the arrangement when she first came to the Red Keep. He had been so cruel to her those first weeks. She had been afraid of him. And now, she could not imagine life without him.

Did it make her weak, that she could forgive what he had done to her, and what he had tried to do? Perhaps she should have shouted his wrongdoings from the top of the highest tower, but she didn’t. And she could not bring herself to regret it.

“Hontītsos?”

She let out a pleased hum at the sound of the nickname, especially when his voice was so deep and gravelly from exhaustion. “Yes, my prince?”

Aegon opened his eyes, the peace fading from his face as he looked into her eyes. He looked unsure, almost afraid. It was a look she had not seen since he first came to her asking for her friendship and aid. She hoped it would vanish soon. She did not want to end this night sadly.

“Am I a good man?”

Her hand immediately stopped in its path as she considered the question.

“You have a good heart, Aegon,” she said, resuming her gentle caresses.

Aegon frowned. “That is not the same thing.”

“No, it is not.” She placed one hand over his heart, feeling it falter and race, and the other on his cheek to ensure his gaze remained on her. “You have done terrible, wicked things. Things that a good man would not do.”

He nodded, all too aware of his past evils. She watched his eyes glaze as he remembered his past misdeeds and knew how sharply his regrets pained him. His chin wobbled as he looked back up at her, tears slipping out of his eyes. “Will I always be wicked?”

“No,” she assured, wiping away his tears. “But when you act on what your good heart tells you to do, when you atone for the wickedness of your past, I believe you will become a good man.”

He smiled as his tears fell, leaving shining pathways on his face. She could not resist tracing them with her little finger.

“I think I am in love with you, hontītsos.”

Her heart skipped a beat, then another, before it began to beat again.

“You only ‘think?’ you’re in love with me?” She tried to keep her voice light and bordering on humor, but she did not think she succeeded.

“Well… I have never felt love before, so I don’t know what it’s like.” Aegon said, like he was talking about the simplest thing in the world. “But I think what I feel when I see you, or hear your voice, or feel your touch… I think that might be love.”

Perhaps she had fallen asleep on the couch, and this was some wild dream. “I would describe to you what love feels like, but I am afraid I don’t know myself. I have only ever read of how love feels.”

“Then tell me what you have read, please. I need to know.”

She did not look at him as she recalled what she’d read in her favorite storybook. “When you love someone, you feel it in your heart. It feels like it can only truly beat when you are with the person you love, and when you are apart, it aches for them.”

At last, she looked back at Aegon. “Is that what you feel?”

There was no hint of hesitation or doubt on his face when he smiled. “Yes. That is exactly what I feel.”

Again, her heart stopped. But her mind raced. This was real. Aegon had just declared his love for her. The man who had tried to take her virginity unwilling and publicly called her a whore, now he loved her.

Why did that fact make her so happy?

In the past months, he had become so much more than that man who had so easily made her miserable. He had practically become a new man. That man, she liked very, very much. It had been so easy to define love while she was looking at him. Was that because…?

“I feel that way, too.” Her words were soft and unconfident, but Aegon beamed at her, nevertheless. “But I –”

“No!” he raised a hand to cup her cheek. “No buts. Buts mean something is wrong, and how can anything be wrong right now?”

“My father is taking me back to Stonehelm in ten days.”

SWANN POV: Aegon tells Lady Swann that Aemond has agreed to their proposal. Overjoyed, she kisses him, and they make love for the first time.

“I need you to propose to Lady Swann,” Aegon told Aemond as he prepared for his morning training with Criston Cole.

Aemond stared back at him with a face like stone. How could he be so damn menacing with only one eye?

“And why do you need that?” Aemond turned his back on his brother as he spoke, carefully selecting a weapon from a table full of dozens of knives, daggers, swords, axes, and a few weapons Aegon could not name.

It may not have been the best idea to ask for this favor when there were so many weapons around.

Aegon sighed, “Because her father will take her home if she does not find a marriage within the next nine days.”

Aemond faced him again, staring at him as he ran his nail along the edge of his sword. “And why does that matter to you, brother?”

Bastard. Aemond had grown from an annoying twat to a despicable bastard – though he would never say that out loud. “She…” he sputtered. “She has become a close friend. She does not want to leave the capital, so I am trying to do her a favor.”

“So, I must marry her, rather than any other man within the city?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop asking me so many questions?”

“I will if you answer me.”

“Fuck you,” Aegon grumbled. Though Aemond didn’t react, it was clear he’d heard it. “It’s because… it would be a beneficial arrangement for both of you.”

Aemond cocked his head. “How would it be beneficial for me?”

“You said you would stop asking questions.”

“Your answer prompted more.”

“I hate you so much,” Aegon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was already sweating in the morning heat, yet Aemond looked perfectly comfortable and dry. “It would benefit you because it would stop mother and Otto from hounding you to find a bride. And you wouldn’t be expected to perform the normal duties of a husband.”

At that, Aemond raised a suspicious brow. “What duties are you referring to?”

With a smirk, Aegon whispered, “Your duties in the bedchamber.”

His eye widening, Aemond glanced around the training yard and lowered his voice to not be heard. “We would still be expected to produce an heir.”

“Ah, but there is another way to seed her with Valyrian stock, dear brother,” Aegon said with a triumphant waggle of his brows.

Aemond said nothing for a moment, then gave the barest hint of a smile. “I had my suspicions. Thank you for confirming them.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“I will.” Aemond sheathed his sword and began walking away. “Would you convey the proposal to her, I think she would enjoy it more coming from you.”

Lady Swann had been sitting on the same spot on the couch for so long that the cushion below her had sunk several inches. She simply could not move. Now when, at any moment, Aegon could walk through the door and change her life forever.

The sun had reached its peak when he finally appeared, a broad smile across his face.

“Aemond agreed?”

“He did.”

She did not know what possessed her, but she threw herself off the couch and into his arms, crashing her lips against his. The kiss was sloppy and unskilled, but full of hunger and passion. She figured that Aegon wasn’t put off by her lack of experience by the way he growled into her mouth.

He forced her to pull away to catch her breath, which was a good thing, as she would have gladly kissed him until she suffocated. With a smile, he brushed her hair away from her face and pressed his forehead to his.

“Why Lady Swann,” he teased. “How improper you are. Shouldn’t you wait to give me your virtue until after you’ve married my brother?”

She did not wait, much to Aegon’s delight. She gladly allowed him to show her everything he’d ever learned about pleasing a woman. To his surprise, he even discovered some new tricks in his time with her.

They spent every night together, making love until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Aegon introduced her to his children and Helaena, who were all immediately taken with her. As if there was any other possibility. And eventually, he became proficient in pretending that he was not about to stab Aemond when he saw him standing next to her, holding her hand as was proper for a betrothed pair. Eventually.

Aegon was happier than he had ever been. It was wonderful.

And it all fell to shit so fast.

The sniveling bastard who had taken Aemond’s eye was officially declared the true heir of Driftmark. After, the king commanded a family dinner, which had gone about as well as Aegon expected – though he did not think it would be Aemond who struck the final blow.

Then, the king did the kindest thing he’d ever done for his younger children, and promptly died. The relief was short-lived, however. Otto and his mother sent guards to pull him out of Lady Swann’s arm and truss him up for his coronation, which had somehow been even worse than the dinner.

Lady Swann had been inconsolable that night, distraught that Rhaenys and her dragon had come so close to killing him. Aegon promised the next day would be better, but it was not. Otto smashed her betrothal to Aemond so he could make a more advantageous match in preparation for the war Aegon actually prayed would not occur.

Aemond struck the final blow there, too. Killing little Luke Velaryon in the dark skies above Storm’s End. At least the betrothal with one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters remained secure.

But that slight would not go unpunished. Mere weeks later, assassins had entered the keep, and slew Jaehaerys, Aegon’s heir. Right in front of his mother and siblings. It was truly a war then.

No one could know what would happen, and no one was safe.

Aegon had already endured the loss of one of the people he loved the most, he could not endure it again. So, his remaining children, Jaehaera and Maelor, were sent away for their safety.

As was Lady Swann.

She had fought him fiercely. But their relationship was still not publicly known, and if the news somehow came out, she would no doubt be Daemon and Rhaenyra’s first target. It was for that same reason that Aegon forbade her from contacting him. He would send messages when he could – he had worked out an extensive, illogical route with Grand Maester Orwyle that would make them impossible to track. Even then, the messages would be few.

Eventually, she agreed to go. Only after Aegon had broken down in tears in front of her, begging her in a way entirely unbecoming of a king. But she had to be safe.

So, six days after the loss of his son, Aegon stood in his rooms – his old room, now – and looked down at the courtyard and his beloved got in her wheelhouse and went far away.

My love,

It had been less than a moons turn, and already, I miss you desperately. I hope you have settled back into Stonehelm well, and that you are safe and comfortable. Though I am glad you are safe, I still find myself aching for your voice, your smile, your touch. Getting them back is my greatest motivation to win this war.

As much as I do miss you, I told you that I would only contact you when it was necessary, and I will hold to that. In ten days, Aemond and I will be flying to Rook’s Rest to join the siege. It is our hope that this will draw Rhaenyra or Daemon, or perhaps both, to come to their ally’s rescue. If all goes well, which I am confident it will, we will cripple the Blacks so thoroughly that the war will be all but won.

Pray for me, darling. Though I am confident, this is my first battle, and I admit that I do feel somewhat nervous. But only slightly! You know your love is a brave, strong man, and I do not want you to think otherwise.

With luck, I will see you soon, my hontītsos,

Aegon

Everything hurt.

Aegon was burning – one moment with fire, the next with ice, as if he was torn between two hells.

It was hard to tell what hurt the most. Was it the ringing in his ears, echoing unending through his head? Was it the way his every breath seemed to shatter his bones anew? Or was it the impossibly heavy weight upon his left arm that felt like it was made purely from the God’s wrath?

He did not have time to decide before the world faded to black. It was almost a relief – but not one long lived.

His pain had not lessened in however long he’d been in a dreamless sleep. In fact, it seemed worse.

No longer was he frozen with the pain; his eyes screwed shut of their own accord. When he awoke, the bright light of whatever hell the gods had condemned him to shone bright as the fires of the sun itself.

There were others in this hell, whispering around him, but he could only make out their shapes against the brightness. We’re they his fellow damned, or his tormentors?

That question was answered when a searing pain ripped through his arm, worsening the agony it was already providing him.

Aegon screamed. A sound to wake both demons and angels.

They were cutting through him, slicing his flesh away bit by bit. When they had fully disassembled him, would they put him back together only to start again?

Oh gods, he was not in the hells.

His eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, and he wished he was in the hells. But no, that was Grand Maester Orwyle standing above him, a small, sharp knife in his hand. There was some Maester in training beside him, looking nearly ill as he held up a great bowl.

Aemond. Aemond was there, standing in the corner next to their grandsire and Larys Strong. They all stared at him in both fear and disgust. Aegon could swear he even saw a tear run down Aemond’s cheek.

Worst of all, his mother was there, kneeling by his bedside, his right hand clasped in hers as she wept and prayed.

Each slice of Orwyle’s knife brought a new agony, sending images racing through his mind with every pounding heartbeat.

The walls of Rook’s Rest rising on the horizon. A great army was below him. The shape forming in the distance, growing closer with each beat of its wing.

For a moment, he caught a glimpse of read scales. Caraxes? Had Daemon come? Was it he who had done this to Aegon?

No, not Caraxes. Meleys. Princess Rhaenys had done this to him. He remembered now. The sickening sound of claws ripping through scales. Sunfyre’s horrible howls of pain. Fire. Blood. Death.

What happened to Rhaenys? Had they killed her, or had she escaped? Aegon vaguely saw the massive form of Vhagar racing towards him. Perhaps after he and Sunfyre had fallen, Aemond had finished her off.

Gods, Sunfyre. Where was he? Was he as hurt as Aegon was? Who was tending to his wounds?

His throat burned as he struggled to force breath and words out, but eventually, he succeeded.

“Sunfyre… alive?”

It was Aemond who finally responded. “Yes, he is alive. He is fine, brother. Do not worry for him.”

Funny, Aegon thought, how his genius brother could somehow be such a terrible liar. It was a wonder how anyone believed his engagement to Lady Swann to be genuine.

Lady Swann.

Was she here? Did she know what happened to him? Was she on her way to King’s Landing to be by her side? Was she safe?

“Hontītsos…?”

Again, Aemond answered, his voice hesitant and words vague. “She is safe, should I send for her?”

“No!” The shout sent throbbing pain echoing through him like the ringing of a bell. “She can’t see! She can’t see!”

He did not know what he looked like, but he knew it couldn’t be pleasant. She could not see him like this, broken and pitiful. Not until he was strong once again.

His mother was asking rapid questions. Who was ‘hontītsos?’ Why did her sons worry for her safety? Why couldn’t she see him?

Instinctively, Aegon turned away from her, seeking to escape the questions which he could not answer.

It was a mistake.

He finally saw what Orwyle was doing to cause him such pain.

The skin of his left arm had gone silver, the metal shining beneath the blood and soot stains. No, not silver, steel.

His fucking armor has melted into his skin.

Now, Orwyle was carving it off, bit by bit, as though he was selecting the finest cuts of meat from a roast.

Aegon screamed anew, and he did not stop until darkness again swept him into a merciful dreamless sleep.

My Dearest Lady Swann,

My brother asked me not to write to you, but I could not reconcile myself with keeping you ignorant of this. I know it may cause you pain, and for that, I apologize. But you deserve this knowledge.

I am sure that, by now, you have received news of the battle at Rook’s Rest, or if not, that it will arrive soon. The battle was a great victory, as we were able to end the threat of at least one of my half-sister’s dragonriders. It is a shame, however, to lose a dragon as magnificent as Meleys.

Apologies, that is not the purpose of this message.

In the battle, Aegon was gravely wounded. I will spare you the details, as I have no desire to cause you further distress. However, I will tell that the Maesters say it is quite likely he will live, though they fear complete recovery impossible.

For now, he is confined to his bed and given a substantial amount of milk of the poppy to keep the worst of his pains away. But he is not well, and likely will not be for some time. It is for this reason that the Small Council has bestowed upon me the title of Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm, so that Aegon may focus on his recovery rather than the fight for his throne.

I will continue to urge him to write to you, but I cannot guarantee my success. When I spoke with him of you, he was quite adamant that you could not know the severity of his injuries. I tried to counsel him otherwise, but he stood firm. I believe he fears how you would react if you saw him in his current state. He would not want to frighten you or face your revulsion – which I have told him is not something you could ever feel for him.

If I cannot convince him to write to you, I will take up the duty myself. I know how dearly you care for each other, and I would be remiss if your only remaining connection was severed. As with Aegon’s messages, mine will likely be infrequent and brief. But they will come, my lady, I assure you of that.

I hope you remain well. I will pray for you and Aegon both.

With best wishes,

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen, Protector of the Realm

Lady Swann ran to Stonehelm’s Sept, the letter still in hand as she fell to the marble floors. There she stayed until the sun had set and then threatened to rise again, praying and weeping. She was sure that if Aegon died, she would die too.

Aemond sent her no good news. There were small victories, yes. But they were far outweighed by tragedy.

Helaena was still not recovering from her grief.

Nor was Sunfyre recovering from his injuries.

Maelor was dead.

Jaehaera missing.

Cole had been killed.

King’s Landing was taken, Aegon’s whereabouts a secret.

That was the last letter she received from her former betrothed. It was not until weeks later that she learned why: Aemond had been killed at the God’s Eye, and he took Daemon with him into the lake’s cold depths, along with both their dragons.

She was truly alone now, and she did not even know where Aegon was, or if he was still alive.

Her routine became nothing more than spending each day praying in the Sept. She ate only at dawn and then again whenever she finally returned to her rooms – sometimes at dusk, sometimes while the moon was still high in the sky.

It was a shell of a life, but it suited her. She was, herself, a shell of a woman.

Until finally the news came – in a letter written in a familiar hand.

Aegon was alive, and on his way back to King’s Landing from Dragonstone, where he had been since fleeing the castle. He had captured Rhaenyra, and with Sunfyre as his weapon, finally ended the war.

He was coming home, and he asked that she join him as soon as she was able.

…Though we are victorious, I do not find myself feeling so. But it is my hope, that once you are back in my arms, all will truly be righted…

She was in a wheelhouse by the next morning.

The landscapes of the Stormlands and Crownlands passed through the windows of Lady Swann’s wheelhouse in a blur. Though the journey to the capital took just over two weeks, it seemed to her that it passed in mere moments – though some days it felt like an eternity.

King’s Landing itself was little more than a mass of pale stone and red tile, the Red Keep only a mountain of rusty brick.

There was only one thing that mattered to her, one word that repeated in her head like the ringing of bells – Aegon, Aegon, Aegon.

The queen, or the former queen, greeted her in the bailey, or at least she thought she did. Others may have been there as well. But she’s paid no attention to them. She burst through the great doors as quickly as she could.

She ran through the labyrinthine halls of the keep with little care of who saw her or who was in her way. Thankfully, most leapt out of her way the moment they saw her. Only one person, a young servant girl she recognized, even spoke to her. She was grateful for the girl, for she had shouted that Aegon was now in the King’s chambers – he had not yet been moved when she left.

So, she found herself at the carved wooden doors of the the King’s chambers. Doors she had never passed through before. Doors which were the only barrier between her and her love.

Only a moment’s hesitation passed until she swung those mighty doors open.

Aegon.

Someone must have told him she had arrived, for he was waiting for her by the eastern window, framed in gold by the setting sun. He was seated in a large chair with two wheels upon its sides, his legs covered with a heavily embroidered blanket. His eyes still shone as brightly as she remembered, their corners wrinkled slightly as he smiled.

But that smile wavered, and his eyes filled with tears. For a moment, he reached out to her.

“They’re all gone,” he wept. His voice was rasping, and weaker than it had been. But the agony in his words was clear as glass.

She ran to him, kneeling at his feet and took both his hands – one precisely as it had been when she left, one now gnarled and scarred – and placed them on her cheeks. To let him feel her warmth, her tears, her life, which he himself had ensured.

“I’m still here, my love,” she whispered. “I’m still here, and I will never leave you again.”

Aegon gripped her tighter as he lowered his head, placing a gentle kiss to her temple before resting his brow against hers. “You’re here. You’re alive… thank the fucking gods.”

She laughed for a moment, until tears overtook her as well, and she simply held him and wept with him.

It was long enough for the sun to complete its descent before Aegon finally broke their embrace. He pulled away, his hands still cradling her face, and smiled sadly. “I am so sorry you must see me like this, hontītsos. You deserve more than a broken man.”

Her brow furrowed in anger. How dare he think such cruelty about himself?

“You are anything but broken,” she insisted, holding his wounded hand in her own. “You bear scars, yes, but you have not been broken. You have survived what would have killed other men three times over, what would have driven them mad. I do not see a broken man before me, I see a man stronger than anything. A man I love with all I am.”

Aegon gave her a watery smile, obviously struggling to hold back more tears. His mouth twitched like he wanted to speak, but it took him long minutes to finally do so. “I only survived it all because I knew I must live to see you, at least one last time.”

“I am here now, and you will see me every day for the rest of our lives. I promise.” She would ensure it, even if she had to move mountains to make it true. They would never lose each other again.

She placed her hands over his and lowered them to cup her neck – exactly as he’d liked it when he kissed her. Then, she put one hand on his hip, and the other on his scarred cheek. “Does this hurt?”

He let out a breath laugh and shook his head. “No. I fact, the feeling is distant, as if it’s hardly there.”

“So, will you feel it if I kiss you?”

“I think there is only one way to find out, hontītsos.”

She dove for his lips without hesitation, kissing him with all the pent-up love or more than a year gone by since she’d last had this opportunity. His lips felt exactly the same – thank the gods – though there were moments when her nose would brush against the raised skin of his scars and remind her of what had happened to him. But those memories only made her kiss him harder, deeper. She never wanted to stop.

It was Aegon who pulled away. Only slightly, so there was just enough space between them for him to speak. “Marry me, my lady Swann.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. She never thought she would ever hear those words for him. It had always been impossible. But now…

“You need a new queen,” she whispered in realization.

Aegon nodded solemnly. “And new heirs.”

“Jaehaera isn’t your heir?”

He laughed, though there was no joy in his eyes. Only grief. “After all that’s happened, I would have to be incredibly stupid to try naming a girl as my heir.”

She supposed it was true. Though there were few Targaryens left to contest the choice if he made it. Still, he wanted to marry her.

There were no more false betrothals, no more sneaking around the castle, no more lying to everyone about how they truly felt about each other. At last, they would be able to publicly declare their love for each other, to sleep in the same bed without fear of someone finding them, to be able to finally do everything they wanted to do, together.

It was far beyond the paltry dreams they’d allowed themselves. It was perfect.

“Of course I will marry you, Aegon. Nothing would make me happier.”

He kissed her again, and they did not stop until the morning.

Only a few days later, Aegon sat alone in the same wheelhouse that had once taken him to his coronation – what he’d thought to be his final damning. Perhaps it had been, but it was hard to feel like a damned man that day.

For it was the day he was to make Lady Swann his lady wife.

The morning of his wedding to Helaena, he’d gotten so drunk that Aemond had to keep him standing through the ceremony. If only he could still have them with him, to laugh about the memory.

He would not get drunk today. He wanted to remember every detail of this glorious day – the day that would forever seal his victory in this horrid conflict.

Though, perhaps he would take one or two sips of the wine bottle someone had put in the wheelhouse, just to calm his nerves. He truly feared that she would look so beautiful that he would forget his vows, or burst into tears, or even just faint at the sight of her.

So, he took one sip, then another, then stopped himself. He did not want to over-imbibe when he had not done so for so long. It would not do to appear out of sorts at his wedding. This would be a happy day.

The wheelhouse was halfway up the serpentine steps when he felt the first pains.

At first, it was easy to dismiss it as the result of nerves, or the winding ride, or even the burn of the wine in his throat.

But then it got worse. So, so much worse.

It started in his stomach, then spread to his chest. From there, it radiated through all his limbs and climbed up his throat with teeth and claws and rage.

He was burning again. But there was no fire. He was burning from the inside.

By the time he realized it was poison, he no longer had the strength to call for help.

He fell back in his seat, the goblet tumbling to the ground and spilling the tainted wine over the floorboards. Already, his breath was becoming shallow, his vision blurring, and his body numbing.

But he did not think of who had done this to him, or why. What did it matter? It was done.

One last word escaped his lips, one last thought echoed in his fading mind.

Aegon whispered her name as he realized he would not get to see her in her wedding gown.

Then he died.

Lady Swann knelt on the stones of the middle bailey, her white gown stained with tears and dirt and blood. Everything was perfect, and then it wasn’t.

The screaming of the footman had drawn them from within the Sept. Every person who saw what lay within the wheelhouse also began screaming. Except for her.

She just knelt there, unable to even climb into the wheelhouse to sit beside him – his body.

His skin had gone gray, a fowl, unnatural color. Veins were visible beneath his skin, a darker shade of grey. As if his very blood had turned to stone. There was no color on him at all, save for the lovely violet of his eyes, and the horrible stain of red spilling from his mouth.

Someone was saying her name. Whispering it. Crying it. Screaming it. But it was distant – as if it were being said across the narrow sea. And the sound of her name, the once familiar letters and syllables, now seemed foreign. Like it no longer truly meant anything. Like it no longer belonged to her.

She had been called so many things. The White Swan. Prince Aemond’s betrothed, then that poor spurned girl. The future queen. Hontītsos.

What would they call her now?

It didn’t matter. She knew who she was.

She was the girl who loved Aegon Targaryen.

But Aegon was dead.

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