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Beware Calm Waters

Summary: Aegon isn't favored by anyone in his life. And then you came along. Or the five times you picked Aegon, the one time you couldn't, and the one time he picked you. Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/F!Reader (No Y/N) Warnings: Canon typical violence, canon typical misoginy Word Count: 10.1k A/N: No Civil War AU! This is Aegon's side story from my recent(ish) Aemond Series, As High As Honour. I don't think you need to read that to understand this. My hate of several Ironborn Houses came out in this. Sorry. Reader is slightly unhinged. My bad. Aegon is different from his show and book counterpart, ie not a rapist or a drunk, etc. Enjoy!

You loved the sea. You did. The way it smelt, the way it unceasingly battered against the shore, the way it held its secrets in the dark. All of it. Except the way it turned your stomach whenever you were aboard a ship.

And that was truly a pity because you were Ironborn.

It was laughable that you could trace your father’s bloodline back to the original Farwynd who first landed on this island and dubbed it Lonely Light and you couldn’t stomach the simple rocking of a ship for more than a few moments. But perhaps you took after your mother in that regard. She was not Ironborn—and that was something those who dwelt on Great Wyk often reminded you of. Another reason why the other Ironborn thought House Farwynd queer.

But to you it was just…your family. Your father, Sylas, was stoic in a way only Ironborn men are known to be but he delighted in his children and loved his wife, never straying. Your younger brother, Roryn, dreamed of finally taking the ship he and your father built by hand out into the Sunset Sea to add to House Farwynd’s fortune in an adventure of his own—but he had no will to pillage or take salt wives. Roryn was also the proud wielder of House Farwynd’s Valyrian Steel weapon, a falx named Dark Water. Your father had gifted it to him for his one-and-ten nameday while he had taken the Valyrian steel tipped spears your mother had given him as a wedding day present as his own weapon. And your mother, the Lady Senerra, was never fond of the harsh clothing and cruelty the Iron Islands often mistook for strength.

“Your father promised that when he brought me here I would suffer no longer the whims of lesser men,” she would say to you whenever you asked of their courtship. “And he has kept his promise. And I shall promise you the same.”

So, no. House Farwynd of Lonely Point did not keep every custom of the Iron Islands and you all were ostracized for it. The eight days’ sail from Great Wyk to Lonely Light probably kept most other houses from trying to take your lands, but House Farwynd was wealthy and that gained your family at least a small bit of favor, you supposed. That was probably why Dalton Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, had summoned House Farwynd to Pyke under the thinly made guise of duty.

“The old king Viserys is demanding closer ties to our fair isles.” Dalton’s dark eyes were alight with something you did not want to name. The young lord of the Iron Islands had always unnerved you; smile too sharp, eyes too hard. You did not trust him and you knew your father did not either. “I have no sons or daughters of my own and my other men have need of their children. From what I can tell, your children do nothing of importance on your tiny island.”

Your mother set a hand on your father’s arm, stopping his fist from curling. “House Farwynd has our own honor and duty.”

Dalton’s smirk widened. “I’m sure. But I still want one of your spawn sent before I have to deal with another raven from them.”

Your father was quiet but you saw the rhythmic clenching of his jaw, he was chewing over what he wanted to say. This was dangerous. The only time your father had nearly took up arms was when one of Dalton’s brothers had smacked your mother’s ass. His family was his life, even the sea came second. And now his liege lord was demanding one of his children be pulled from under his protection.

You stepped forward, mind made up. “I’ll go.”

Your mother hissed your name as your father set his rough hand on your shoulder. “My girl-”

“Roryn cannot set sail from the Red Keep. He is meant for the sea. I will go.” If you didn’t, you knew your family’s blood would be washed into the sea before the sun rose. Dalton had killed people for defying him and you would not see your family slaughtered for something you could do.

The Greyjoy clapped as he barked a laugh. “Presumptuous little thing. If you were my daughter, I’d have your tongue-”

“She isn’t your daughter,” your father spoke, low and dark. “And it seems you leave me no choice. My daughter will go.”

As the moon rose over the sea and you tried to stave off another bout of seasickness, your mother swept into your rooms aboard your father’s ship, dark eyes shining with tears. “What have you done, my sweet?”

You dared to look at her, opening your eyes for just a moment. “I will be fine.”

The small featherbed fell beneath her weight as she sat at your side. Her warm hands framed your face and the rolling of your stomach subsided. She leaned forward to press her forehead to yours and you pulled in a lungful of her mint and rose perfume. “Many paths are before you. I cannot see…” She paused. “You are my little girl.”

“I will always be your little girl, mama,” you whispered in return, but her words had your mind whorling.

She pressed a hard kiss to your forehead and whispered something in her mother tongue.

“I love you, too.”

You readied for your adventure in a bit of a haze, saying goodbye to your family and friends with tears in your eyes and your heart in your throat. Had you made the right decision? Would this truly be the best course of action for your family?

“Don’t be afraid. You are a Farwynd. We are adventurers. We are Ironborn. We are of Shadow. We are not afraid.”

You tried to repeat your brother’s encouraging words as you settled into your fine apartments within the Red Keep. There had been a bit of pageantry with your arrival, your family’s smaller ship bracketed by two larger ones with Greyjoy sigils blazoned on their sails. You met King Viserys and Queen Alicent first—the King seemed pleased that the someone from the Iron Islands was sent but his Hand, whom you immediately respected, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, was not impressed when she read the missive Dalton had sent with your arrival, explaining that you would be the Iron Islands’ envoy, ward to the Iron Throne, with his blessing.

“He thinks quite highly of himself, does he not?” She said with a perfectly arched brow.

You tried not to giggle, but a few might have escaped anyway. Either way, both Viserys and Rhaenys seemed pleased with the large trunk of gold and jewels House Farwynd had sent alongside you, as payment for your care while as a ward to the Crown.

But you did not like how the maids in the Red Keep wrinkled their noses when they opened the trunk your mother had packed with things she had wanted to take with you, for protection, my sweet. The only thing keeping you from screaming at them was the stark reminder that you would soon be alone here. Lashing out would not gain you any favor. So, you swallowed your anger and soon realized that it was easier to be angry than to be scared…which is what you were. Alone. For the first time in your life, you were truly alone. In a land foreign to you despite supposedly being ruled by the man sitting on the ridiculous, pointed chair.

Your mother once accompanied you on a tour on what she called the mainland and what the Ironborn called the Green lands. You visited Banefort, Crag, and Castamere in the Westerlands. While it took some time for the houses and villagers to warm to you (and after your stomach settled from the voyage), you enjoyed seeing the sights, learning how different the Westerlands were from your small isle, and the highlight of your trip had been when you stopped on Fair Isle and had been wrapped up in the celebrations of one of Lord Farman’s son’s namedays.

So you weren’t entirely green when it came to the culture of the rest of Westeros. But this was King’s Landing. This was the Red Keep. Even when your father’s guards and mother’s handmaidens stayed for a fortnight to help you settle, you felt like little more than a mummer, playing the part of a lady. But you knew they wanted and needed to return to Lonely Light. This was not their home either and you had a duty to fulfill, adventure to have…a life to live.

But still, you stood on dock and watched their longboat disappear on the horizon with tears stinging your eyes.

“My lady,” one of the handmaidens assigned to you started in a soft voice, “we should return to the keep.”

You pushed out a slow breath and nodded, pressing a hand to your stomach as if that would settle your emotions. “Yes, of course. Please lead the way.”

Yes, you were scared even if this had been your decision. You twisted and pulled at the emotion, trying to temper it as you slowly settled into a routine. Trying to see if anyone else was scared gave you an odd bit of comfort. You would even wager that while the Greyjoy had selected your family out of opportunity to spite your wealthy but unliked House, he answered House Targaryen’s raven because he was scared.

Scared of their dragons.

That fear would not last forever, not with his ego and growing savagery. But for now, you could delight in his exposed fear instead of your own. And you were largely alone as the royal children had taken a tour of the Reach, spending time with their mother’s (or step-grandmother’s…honestly the family tree was confusing) family in Oldtown. Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent were busy with Small Council duties or continuously going out into the city to slowly sway the smallfolk into adoring the Crown Princess with gifts of charity and an open ear to hear their troubles. They were kind to you, but you knew not to bother them unless absolutely necessary. By the end of your first moon in the Red Keep, you were little more than yet another tapestry to be hung on a wall. Something to be collected. A way for King Viserys to believe he had a united kingdom.

Ridiculous.

Being ignored for most of the day left you privy to some whispers. Alicent and Rhaenyra’s friendship and its demise after the former’s marriage to King Viserys had been the topic of quite a few. The following reconciliation had been the topic of even more. What mattered most to you was that they seemed at peace now. You would want to keep it that way.

Eventually, you were called to the Red Keep’s front steps with the older royals, and told to greet the royal children as they arrived. You resisted the urge to wipe your sweaty palms against your gown and stood straight as your mother taught you as the carriage slowly ambled its way closer. These would be the people you spent most of your time with, hopefully. You wanted to make a good impression. You wanted to make friends. You…didn’t want to be so alone anymore.

The carriage stopped and you tried to memorize which name went with which face as they were announced.

Prince Jacaerys with the perfect bow.

Prince Lucerys with the rounded cheek blush.

Prince Aegon with the sneer.

Prince Daeron with the open smile.

Princess Helaena with the worried brow.

Prince Aemond with the stern look.

And Princess Jeyne, Rhaenyra’s youngest, with the musical giggle.

You curtsied as you were introduced to each of them and you pretended not to hear Aegon as he muttered, “we shall have to hide the gold with her here, won’t we?” into his cup of wine as he walked by you. It was then, always liking a challenge, that you swore you would get Aegon to be your friend.

As you turned to follow them inside, Helaena appeared at your side, bright purple eyes wide as she stared at you. “You need not worry about the golden one. He shall be a rock and wave.”

And then she smiled and turned away again.

Despite not knowing what she had meant, you found yourself smiling.

A new routine was established and you were more or less grouped together with the royal children for most of the day. While you did little more than observe their lessons, you did learn more about the history of Valyria at their side. It was an interesting way to spend your time but it was at least better than your solitude.

Little Daeron was sweet. Jacaerys and Lucerys were kind to you, too.

Helaena was by far your favorite. You didn’t mind going with her to the gardens or the woods to help her catch bugs, readily ruining the hems of your fine gowns in muck and grass if it made her smile. She hadn’t spoken any other strange words as she did that first day, but you doubted she had much control of it.

Your mother had told you about people like Helaena. She called them Oracles. The Valyrians called them Dreamers, like Daenys. You thought that it suited Helaena. Dreamer. It didn’t seem that any of her family knew what to make of her and her quiet truths. You weren’t sure if they even knew what she was saying. And, to be fair, you hadn’t quite pieced together what she had told you, but you were sure it would make sense soon. Things like that always did. Helaena seemed a little removed from court, too, so you made sure to spend time with her, as much as she wanted.

Aemond was full of sullen silences and studious glances. He took his lessons seriously—all of them. From the histories of Westeros and Valyria to his time in the training grounds with Ser Criston; all of it was handled with a single determination to learn everything and excel at it. He even asked you questions about the Iron Islands outside of the lessons. You answered, always happy to talk about your home. Targaryens were truly a different breed.

You surmised you could slip away from the lessons you did not need, taking time for you to pull that hidden satchel your mother packed for you from the bottom of your wardrobe and just…breathe for a moment. But it was for naught. The third time you escaped the Valyrian lessons, you received a sharp knock at your chamber doors.

A stern looking handmaiden was waiting on the other side, fingers pressed together so tightly the pads were turning white. “My lady, the queen has requested you take your Valyrian lessons with the children.”

You rolled your lips into your mouth for a moment, trying to find a tactful way of proceeding before deciding on, “I’m fluent.”

While you hoped that would be the end of it and you’d be able to return to your own endeavors, you were all but hauled in front of the Queen and King and forced to prove your fluency. “My mother is from Essos, Your Grace,”, you said, trying to keep the boredom out of your voice, “I learned High Valyrian alongside the Common Tongue. I would be happy to teach your children the Bastard Valyrian of Qohor if-”

“That won’t be necessary,” King Viserys said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh as his young wife blushed beside him. “You are free to spend that hour as you please.”

And it was with that small rebellion, did you finally draw Aegon to your side.

“How did you get out of our lessons?” He groused.

You smiled. “I’m fluent in Valyrian. It is my mother’s tongue.”

Aegon grumbled something into his wine before plopping down into the seat beside you. “What else do you know?”

And you couldn’t help the smile pushing at your mouth now. “My preference is for the Bastard Valyrian of Qohor.”

“My grandsire says the Qohorik are blood-soaked heretics.” His periwinkle eyes stared at you over the edge of his chalice as if daring you to refute him.

But you had heard worse and while it hurt you to hear the popular misconception of your mother’s homeland, you knew to bite your tongue. “Would you like to learn it?”

“I’m sure you’ve already had your fill of teaching my brother. Aemond seems to tug at your skirts every time he has the chance.”

A laugh escaped your lips before you could even think of quashing it. “Your brother sees no need to learn anything aside from High Valyrian and I assure you he is never tugging at my skirts.” To be true, you had spied him sketching a woman’s face on the edge of his history work when the tutor was answering questions poised by one of the other children. You finally recognized the woman as Lady Arryn when she had come to the Red Keep to meet with Princess Rhaenyra. He was besotted. The way the younger prince stared at her…it was unadulterated devotion. And Lady Arryn seemed completely unaware of it.

Aegon stared at you for another stretched moment. “I have been told I am a terrible student.”

Your smile came again. “Well, I suppose I will be the judge of that, my prince.”

And the prince smiled at you.

Despite your best efforts, Aegon did not take to Bastard Valyrian either. But, to be fair, it seemed his dragon preferred the Common Tongue anyway. And while your lessons with Prince Aegon didn’t prove fruitful in the way you had at first intended, you found the friendship you had cultivated with him much more rewarding anyway.

He was the one person in the whole of the capital that you never felt like you were burdening with your presence. He laughed at your ridiculous jokes, he stopped sulking when you told him he’d had enough to drink, and sought you out more than the desperate hangerson that seemed to shadow his every move. To be true, you felt like you were at least friends with the other royal children, but Aegon was your favorite. Helaena was a close second.

And it was because of this that you were standing in the Dragon Pit, staring at two dragons while Helaena and Aegon bickered. “I asked her first!”

“Dreamfyre has been accustomed to having two people on her back. She will be safer with me.”

“I am not going to endanger her,” Aegon pouted. “I would never.”

A soft touch at your elbow had you turning to see Aemond at your side. He was still without a dragon so he had been spared the argument but he did present you with a carefully wrapped present. “Happy nameday,” he murmured, cheeks pink. You unwrapped it quickly and smiled at the new quills and inkwells filled with dark ink swirled with pearl dust. “I know you have been sending ravens to Lonely Light twice a moon. I thought you should have finer supplies.”

“This is an exceptionally kind gift, my prince. I truly thank you for it.” The pink grew darker when you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in thanks before turning and handing the gift to one of the handmaidens to make sure they were deposited into your chambers without issue. Aemond eventually excused himself from the Pit, not that you could blame him. His lack of dragon was still a sore spot.

“Who would you prefer to ride with?” Helaena asked, pulling you back to their squabble.

You resisted the urge to curl your hands into your skirts, a girlish impulse betraying your nerves. You didn’t want to hurt either of them. But you knew your answer. “Perhaps it would be good to also have Sunfyre become accustomed to having two riders. I would not want to always burden you and Dreamfyre.”

Aegon crowed in victory but Helaena only smiled. With a gentle squeeze to your hand, she let the dragon keepers lead her down toward Dreamfyre’s roost so they could take to the skies.

“Your victory celebrations are unbecoming of someone in your station,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as you turned to Aegon who was still basking in your decision. But you eventually fell into matching giggles.

He babbled about how he would take you around the city twice and then over the Bay and didn’t stop talking even as he reached down to help you climb up into Sunfyre’s fine saddle. The dragon was glorious and golden—you had ‘met’ the dragon a few times but this would be the first time you had ridden one. And it felt right to go with Aegon.

He had become your best friend.

“Hold tight to me,” he said, urging his dragon toward the Pit’s entrance. “I wouldn’t have you falling off and dirtying the streets.”

You cackled and dug your hands into his sides, earning a yelp and shake from him. He hated being tickled. And then…you were flying. The air whipped by your face and you heard Aegon yell out a command to go higher, higher, higher and he turned to smile at you, the sun making his periwinkle eyes shine.

You chanced a look down at the quickly shrinking city and let out another laugh. Surely this was magic. This was…

“I have something for you!” He yelled over the scream of the wind. Aegon let go of one of the reins—only laughing when you screeched about holding onto it—and dug something out of his doublet. He pried one of your hands from around his waist and slipped a delicate bracelet around your wrist. Dark red rubies and vibrant topaz were embedded in blackened steel, the colors of your house, making them look like tiny waves but the clasp was two interlocked dragon claws.

“It is beautiful!” You yelled, quickly grabbing hold of Aegon again.

“Happy Nameday!”

Before you could say anything else, he ordered Sunfyre to fly through the nearest cloud and his laughter overtook your squealing as tried to press yourself further into his back.

Your mother once said that all the rage and ruin that your father lacked had found its way to you.

For a long time, you thought it was a curse she had given you. But now, as you stared at the newest envoy from the Iron Islands, you understood that it was a blessing.

A group of men from House Harlaw had arrived only a fortnight ago and you felt something growing and bubbling beneath your skin like an eel every time one of them opened their mouth. They were vile. While King Viserys simply seemed proud of himself for having another Ironborn envoy, you saw how the Harlaw’s sneered at the royal children, taunting them, being cruel.

Every time they called Helaena queer, called Aemond a “half-man,” or said Aegon was “cowing to a trollop” (you assumed they were referencing Rhaenyra but you were not about to waste energy asking for clarification), you felt it grow.

It came to a head when everyone was called to the training grounds. Viserys had the stupid idea that boys knocking each other into the dirt repeatedly would forge a bond. You knew it meant he didn’t truly see you as enough, but surely he couldn’t be that ridiculous to not see how House Harlaw had only accepted his invitation to gorge themselves on his food and take their pick of the royal jewels and gold before making their way through the Narrow Sea to greater ventures. But no one would listen to you, even if you did have the sneaking suspicion that Princess Rhaenys had the same reservations as you did.

“You are not dragons!” Meldred sneered. “You’re sheep!”

The taunts continued and you bit your tongue so hard it bled when Meldred, the heir, said he would make Helaena one of his salt wives. The situation worsened when Aemond was maimed, defending his family’s honor. Aemond then went on to claim a dragon, Vhagar, but of course, Viserys cared little for that fact.

Meldred and his family were raucous in their celebration, filling the halls with their jeers. You knew better than to try to see Aemond. He had shut himself into his rooms after landing his massive dragon atop the Holdfast, blood streaked and cracked his face and neck. He would talk to you when he was ready. You didn’t mind waiting.

But it was Aegon whom you sought out. You knew he had felt each insult Meldred had hurled at him—no matter his sneer and princely bravado, you knew him. You knew he hurt. And you also knew the hidden passageways of the Red Keep and slipped through the dark shadows until you were walking into Aegon’s chambers, as you had done dozens of times before, knowing that courtly propriety would demand otherwise.

“I knew you’d come,” he murmured without turning to face you. Aegon was sitting in one of the overstuffed chaises that he had pulled toward the balcony that overlooked Blackwater Bay.

“I always do.” You settled beside him and stared out toward the horizon, too.

Aegon was quiet for a moment and you waited, as you always did, for him to find what he wanted to say. You never did mind. But your heart clenched when you saw him start to turn one of his rings in circles around his knuckles. It was a habit he had inadvertently started after you had (none too gently) steered him away from wine and ale whenever he had a glimmer of upsetting emotion.

“Is Aemond…” The words trailed off.

“Your mother says she’s having the finest maesters look after him. And I’ve heard murmurs she’s sent a raven to Lady Arryn, too.” You were not sure why Lady Arryn would be needed but perhaps the whispers of her being a witch did hold some water if Alicent sought her out for this.

The prince nodded and continued to turn his ring but the movement stopped quickly as his periwinkle eyes once again settled on you. “You have not gone to see him?”

“I will see him when he calls for me. I’ll not force my way to his side until he is ready. And I wanted to see you, too.”

“I’m not the one who lost an eye,” Aegon muttered, lips pulling tight over his teeth.

Your blood boiled at the reminder, and stayed heated as you saw the broken rage in your dearest friend’s eyes. “What they said, about you, your brothers, and nephews, none of it was true.”

“What?”

“You are not sheep, Aegon. And I’ll not have you believing any vile falsehood that he spewed today.” You needed him to know that it wasn’t true. He was a dragon. Your dragon. “Allowing him and his ilk to have such a hold on you is beneath you.”

Aegon was quiet again before nodding. “You always know what to say.”

“And when do you listen to me, hm?” Knocking your shoulder into his, you were delighted with the smile you coaxed from him. “Aemond will be fine, I am sure of it. And we will be free of the Harlaws soon.”

“Have they said they are leaving soon?”

You reached out and brushed one of his silver curls behind his ear. As you always did, you ignored how your entire chest tightened when he leaned into your palm. “I will make sure they leave with haste.” You knew what you had to do. Just like your mother knew how to stem the blood from a wound and speak to clouds, you knew how to do this.

You slunk back out of Aegon’s chambers and into your own, pulling the blade your brother had given you from beneath your featherbed and sliding it up your sleeve. It fit. Of course it did. This who you were. You set back out into the halls, head held high and steel in your spine. And it only took a handful of steps before another jeer came from the Harlaw’s. “And there is the little Farwynd!”

You turned and saw Meldred saunter into the hall, a few of his cousins on his heels. They blathered something about their spectacle at the training grounds but you didn’t care to listen, only waiting patiently as he moved closer and closer, that same wretched smirk on his face. And, when he was close enough, you moved. The blade glistened as you held it below his belt.

“I’m only going to say this once, so I need you to listen closely. Understand?”

“You wen-”

You pressed the blade closer, feeling as it cut through the leather of his trousers and you delighted in the sharp inhale he took. Yes, he could feel the sharp point of it. He waved a hand at his cousins, keeping them from approaching. “I said, listen to me. You and your family are to leave King’s Landing tonight. Not tomorrow, not a week from now. Tonight. If you do not, I’ll geld you. Do you understand?”

Meldred’s sharp breath smelt of ale and meat and you tried not to recoil as it washed over you. “You cannot command-”

“I am not commanding anything. I’m threatening you. There is a difference, Meldred. I know your family does not do more than kill and fuck, but I am sure you can understand the difference. Leave. Now.” The man’s dark eyes were ablaze with fury and you sank the knife further, feeling more than a little satisfaction when his snarl faded. “If you try to make a move toward me or anyone else in this castle, I will do far more than gelding you. Nod if you understand.”

You watched the tendons grow tight in his jaw before he nodded. Just once.

“Good. Good. You are not as stupid as you look. Now, go. Leave. I’ll be watching.”

And when Aegon asked about the sudden departure of the other Ironborn, you could only smile.

Living in the Red Keep had somewhat numbed you to the absurdity of living amongst House Targaryen. Just a few moons ago, a hooded man had asked if you had anything with House Harlaw’s sigil on it and you handed over the small dagger you had taken from their vacated apartments. It was no bother. You would have needed to destroy the seal and it was the least valuable thing you had pilfered anyway. And then when news came a few weeks later that House Harlaw had apparently been entirely eradicated after a certain dagger’s sheath was found beside a murdered Dalton Greyjoy…well, you could only smile. It was not anything of consequence to you. Even as the Iron Islands descended into a bloody civil war, you knew your family and House Farwynd was safe. They were too far away to be targeted and your father had no plans to sail toward danger anyway.

“Your smile is unnerving.”

Your gaze dragged over to Aegon but your smile did not falter. “You like my smile.”

“I do,” he said, cheeks just a touch pink, “but you look mad.”

“That is not a recent development,” Daeron said with a laugh from beside him—Aegon quickly knocked his elbow into his arm with a scowl. He never did like it when anyone else teased you.

“How fares your family?” Alicent said, ignoring her sons’ bickering. “Any news from Lonely Light?”

“My father has told me that most of the violence has settled but he would wager against any long lasting peace for now.”

The corners of Alicent’s mouth pulled down and she quickly turned to discuss that revelation with Rhaenyra and Rhaenys. They would handle it as they saw fit (and Viserys would do little more than hum and haw, as he always did).

The conversation eventually turned to the upcoming festivities for Helaena’s nameday. You suspected Jacaerys and Helaena’s wedding date would be set soon, too. And every word about the upcoming feast and dancing had Helaena shifting more in her seat. You reached across the table and set your hand beside hers, knowing she had to reach out to you, not the other way around.

“I will be at your side for anything you need.”

Helaena’s long fingers moved to settle over yours, tapping a soft beat against your skin. “You will save me then?”

“Of course I will.” Helaena beamed at you for a moment before being pulled away into a conversation with Jeyne and you were happy to focus back on Aegon who set a hand on your leg, a pout pulling at his mouth when you didn’t laugh at a joke you hadn’t heard.

And soon the festivities were in full swing and you were fitted into an outfit the poor seamstress had fretted over for a fortnight. She had been so used to the styles of the capital and House Targaryen that she struggled with your requests. But you, once again longing for your home despite the friendships you had formed here and the years that had passed, missed Lonely Light. You wanted something that would be at home in the familiar shadows of your childhood home. It was a little strange, a little more…you. And it served a dual purpose, despite the seamstress’ confusion.

The music was lively and the crowd more so, probably bolstered by the Arbor Gold and Dornish Reds. That would be your only excuse as to why the princess they had gathered to celebrate was being actively ignored at her own party. You knew her betrothed, Jacaerys, would have been at her side but he had taken ill a few days ago and was currently asleep with a fever. The other royals were doing their best to keep the worst of the courtiers away from Helaena but they could be relentless.

The latest song faded and you hurried your trek through the crowd as you heard one of the jesters call for Helaena to take a turn about the floor.

Before anyone else could step forward, you did. You held out a hand to Helaena and watched as her elusive smile split her mouth. Her soft giggle made you smile, too, as her hand settled into yours.

“You have saved me.”

“I swore to you that I would,” you whispered as you took your position. The crowds behind you started to whisper but you paid no heed to them.

“Is that Lady Farwynd? Wearing trousers?” Someone whispered.

“Yes, I believe so!”

You and Aegon had spent hours in his chambers, learning the steps traditionally taken by men in these dances. He had been a patient if not teasing teacher, but he never gave up when you stepped on his toes or twirled when you were supposed to spin him.

Helaena was a beautiful dancer, light and airy as she moved through the steps and you hoped you hadn’t embarrassed her. Thanking all of your mother’s gods, you didn’t miss a single step and bowed to her as the song finished. She reached out and grabbed your hands, pressing a kiss against your knuckles, before she moved back toward the head table where Alicent waited. She caught your eye over her daughter’s shoulder and smiled at you with a dip of her head.

“That was quite the performance.”

You turned abruptly to see a comely man at your side, a charming smile on his face. Wracking your brain for his name or anything that might help you place him, you were relieved to recognize the sigil, a white weasel. “Lord Varner. Good evening.”

The conversation that followed was pleasant if not a little stilted as he seemed to know more about you than you did about him. But he was amiable, you supposed.

“Would you do me the honor of the next dance, my lady?”

“Apologies, but I did promise Prince Aegon my next dance, my lord.” During your dance lessons, Aegon had made you promise that you would dance with him for the rest of the night after your turn with Helaena. It had been the easiest promise you had ever made.

The man hummed, dark eyes narrowing for just a moment. “I have heard whispers that you are quite close with the prince, no?”

The smile that pushed at your mouth could not be stopped as you nodded. “He is a dear friend.”

And while you hoped that would be the end of it, Varner stepped closer. “A friend. A tricky sort of term, is it not? I must say, my lady, you have played the long game. You are from a wealthy house, but with nothing else to offer the crown.”

By now, your smile had faded and you had begun to unbutton the sides of your trousers and pulled the hidden skirt of your dress free, it was the only thing you could think of to do. Screaming at him and making a fool of yourself was not an option at present. Not when it was Helaena’s nameday. And you did not know why his words hurt you.

“He will never choose you, my lady. You must know that.”

“I will never ask him to choose me, my lord. He is my friend. And I chose him.”

“And when your family says it is time for you to marry? Should you not think of yourself instead of him?”

“What would-”

“Your beauty has been secreted away in the halls of this castle for ages, my lady. But I still heard whispers of it. Of you.”

“And apparently my House’s wealth, my lord. You seem to know that as well,” you added with a sneer.

A blush stained his cheeks and he glanced away for a moment. “We could be a formidable match. I had hoped-”

“Ah, there you are.” Aegon stepped in front of you, looking every bit the prince you knew him to be in fine clothes with silver and gold jewelry across his neck and fingers. “You owe me a dance, my lady.”

“I also asked her for a dance, my prince.”

And then, to your horror and belated amusement, both men held out a hand for you to take. You looked between Lord Varner and Aegon and easily slipped your hand into Aegon’s without a look back as the prince pulled you further onto the dance floor.

He led you through the steps of the dance and did not part from your side even as one song turned into two, then three, then four.

The fourth was slower, mostly meant for couples or lovers, but you did not mind still spending it in Aegon’s arms.

“You chose me, do you?” Aegon murmured and he held fast when you tried to pull away from him and continued to lead you through the dance. His periwinkle eyes held something you could not name, but it was gone with his next blink and he smiled at you.

“You know I do,” you said, confused at how and why your voice shook.

This was Aegon. This was your truest, dearest friend. Why did he suddenly stir something in your chest with just his smile?

-1

With the decree that the eldest child could inherit titles, regardless of their sex, you still expected your brother to become Lord of Lonely Light after your father passed. After all, you were still Ironborn and the laws of the Crown had little sway on the Iron Islands. But you received not one but three ravens from Lonely Light, each stamped with House Farwynd’s sigil. The first was from your mother, telling you that you could hold the title if you wanted it.

The second was from your father, asking if you wanted to be named heir. It was an honest question with no ill-intent behind it as he reminded you of how much he loved and missed you.

The third was from your brother, relief tilting his handwriting. You knew I never wanted it, dear sister. I cannot sail the world if I must be counting coin on Lonely Light.

Well. That settled that, then. You would be Lady Farwynd when the time came.

The revelation didn’t give you more than a moment’s pause. You hadn’t really given your future a thought other than eventually returning to Lonely Light. And where did that leave you with Aegon? He was your dearest, truest friend and Lonely Light was so far from King’s Landing. But still, Rhaenyra had invited you to stay in the capital for as long as you wanted and soon your presence would have been required anyway. Jacaerys wed Helaena in a lavish ceremony and soon after that, with the pull to go home and the push to stay still gnawing at your mind, Viserys finally died and it would have been rude for you without paying your respects.

You owed that man nothing.

The only good he had done was half heartedly helping create his children but you thought they were more like their mothers anyway. You sat behind Aegon during the prayers and let him tangle his fingers with yours when he reached back for you. If Aegon needed you in this moment, no matter his own conflicting emotions regarding his father, you would not falter. And you would never shun his company. If he sought you out more during Rhaenyra’s coronation celebrations, you would never complain.

He was your Aegon.

He danced with you until your feet hurt and they you sipped wine at his side, hiding away on one of the Red Keep’s many balconies until the sun came up. And as the celebrations continued on, you were one of the very few Ironborn Houses that came to swear fealty to the new queen in person. All others sent ravens with their oaths but you doubted many of them meant them, truthfully. And you doubted that Rhaenyra cared much either.

But with each day that slipped through your fingers, you felt the pull to go back to Lonely Light…and it was strange that you hesitated to call it home. It was only for a moment, but it was a hesitation regardless. You needed to learn how to truly care for your charges and responsibilities.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Aegon asked.

Hot tears stung at your eyes without warning as you turned to look at Aegon, standing in the shadows of the hidden passage. “I don’t want to leave.”

“But you will.” He moved further into your rooms and grasped at your hands with shaking fingers. Without another word, he kissed each of your knuckles and your heart twisted with every brush of his lips. Why? Why now must you feel this? Or was it always waiting, patient for you to understand?

“And I will fly Sunfyre to your island if you are gone too long.” The prince tried to smile as he said it but it did not reach his beautiful eyes and it furthered the ache in your chest.

“I expect nothing less, my prince.” Your smile was no doubt stilted, too.

Aegon’s next breath stuttered against your hands as he still held them up to his mouth. “I’m just Aegon to you. Your Aegon.”

The words were a bell toll in your mind as you sailed away from the Red Keep and you tried to keep your eyes on Aegon as he stood on the shore, watching watching watching until he disappeared entirely. Your stomach still lurched all the way back to Lonely Light and your mother’s perfume and gentle touch still settled it. Your family threw a feast to mark the occasion of your homecoming and you slipped into a routine of shadowing your parents to make sure your island continued to prosper. It was good, fulfilling work.

But still, your heart ached and your dreams never ceased to bring you periwinkle eyes that haunted you when you woke.

“Part of your heart has been left behind in that wretched city,” your mother said, brooking no argument as she claimed the chair beside you as you learned the intricacies of collecting “taxes” from your men.

More tears came; you had tried to hide them since you had come back to Lonely Light. After all, were you not supposed to be here? Your home? “I… I do not know how to heal this wound, mama.”

She simply shook her head and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I have lost so many years of your life to that crown and that iron chair. But you are still my little girl. I know your heart and it brings me the smallest bit of joy to still see you capable of such love.”

And the bell tolled again.

When Rhaenyra called on House Farwynd to help defend the Realm against the threat of the renewed Triarchy, you knew you must answer. Your family supported you and your men were all too eager to oblige. While your father might not have been as hungry for bloodshed and violence after marrying your mother, that did not mean the urges of the Ironborn beneath your care were the same. And you must lead them. You knew it. Your father knew it.

To truly be seen as the heir to Lonely Light, you had to do this.

The tears in your mother’s eyes were the only indication of her fear for you. “My girl. My beautiful girl,” she whispered. Deft fingers pulled at the straps of your light armor, tightening it a little more. “I only just had you home again. And now we must be parted again?”

“I will return to you again, Mother. I promise you.”

She nodded and pressed a kiss to your temple, wet cheek pressing against yours. “I know you will. But I…” Her thumb pressed against your cheek and her eyes held secrets she couldn’t divulge. It was something you always expected from her—her gods still burdened and blessed her. “I do not know how you will return.” She then murmured a prayer in her native tongue, asking for blessings, safety, and, strangely enough, happiness for you.

And you repeated the prayer to yourself as you stood beside your father on the bow of your ship, knowing your mother stood on the shores of Lonely Light, doing the same. Your brother was captaining a ship behind you and nearly a hundred more filled the sea beside you. When this was over, your brother asked for leave to take his ship and men east, wanting to explore Qarth and perhaps visit Asshai. He still wanted his adventures and you and your father were happy to oblige him.

But when you arrived at King’s Landing, almost all those thoughts vanished from your mind as Aegon shoved his way through the crowds at the dock to get to you. Ignoring propriety and courtly rules, he wrapped you in a tight hug that had strange tears stinging your eyes as his familiar scent engulfed your senses.

“Aegon,” you whispered. There was nothing else you could think to say.

“You have returned. To me.”

“I-”

“Yes, yes, and to help defend the Crown, that as well. But to me.”

A watery laugh punched out of you as you pulled back, fingers still gripping his shoulders. “Yes, to you.”

And it seemed the gods (or just Rhaenyra) were smiling down on you when you and your fleet were assigned to protect the shores of the Riverlands and Stormlands with Aegon and Daeron flying their dragons overhead. He would be at your side and you at his. For now, you would not be separated again. And while you knew this time together would be different, you still treasured it. Even when the Triarchy came and battered themselves against your ships and dragonfire, you knew you were with Aegon.

Your brother and father were not blind, Any time your men and the dragon riders made camp together, Aegon sought you out.

“You have a dragon shadow,” Roryn said with a smile.

“She has a dragon’s heart,” your father corrected, eyes finding your face over the chipped edge of his tankard.

The seas were calm tonight and you heard your men wondering if that meant the Drowned God was giving you a reprieve from your enemies or if it was a warning of what was to come. But still, you found yourself turning to see Aegon and Sunfyre at the edge of camp, both content with just each other for the moment.

“When you were taken from us, we thought you had been lost to us forever,” your father murmured. The ale sloshed over the side of his tankard as he set it down on the uneven table. “But you are still my daughter, but I think you have changed others.” His roughened fingers slid against your cheek before he stood. “You are salt, sea, and shadow, my girl. Every light needs its shadow.” And then he was standing and dragging your brother up from his seat, too. A question was on the tip of your tongue but it quickly left when Aegon approached the table. He and your father and brother dipped their heads at each other, the smallest bit of respect shown, before he sat beside you. Your stomach twisted pleasantly as you noticed how the firelight made his periwinkle eyes sparkle as the prince smiled at you.

It had taken you nearly a year of being parted for you to understand what you had with Aegon. It wasn’t loud or fiery. It was quiet and slow growing. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Is it selfish of me to be thankful for the Triarchy to attack? If I had to wait another moon to see you again, I would have flown Sunfyre to Lonely Light.”

You smiled and it grew when his hand nudged against yours on the table and you took the chance to link your fingers together, roughened palm against roughened palm. “Well, we can be selfish together.”

You and Aegon spoke until the last of your men started to turn toward the tents or their ships to sleep for the night. And it was still not enough time with him. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time with him. And you hope he felt the same way.

But you didn’t have time to seek an answer to your question when a horn blared and ripped you from your dreams of periwinkle eyes. You rushed out of your tent as you tightened the chestplate over your body, feet sinking into the sand. The horn blared again and you saw the foreign boats rushing ashore and shadowed figures hurdling out of them. They had come just before dawn. The bodies of the lookouts were half-submerged in the dying embers of the fires and you barely had time to recognize them before you were taken from your feet, tackled and spitting sand. It scratched your skin and blurred your vision for just a moment before you rolled again and grabbed one of the blades from your boot and thrust it down into the neck of the man who had taken you down. He gurgled in his own blood but you hardly heard it as you sprung to your feet.

Your men were yelling, hurrying to their longboats to take to the seas, culling the stem of invaders. They were yelling for anyone and everyone to follow them. And you knew you should. You were the heir to Lonely Light. You were Ironborn. And-

Daeron’s dragon Tessarion screeched and belched cobalt flames across a horde of men intent on hurting her and her rider before she took to the skies and then you saw Sunfyre struggling against the overwhelming numbers of Triarchy rushing toward him. And Aegon was there.

Your Aegon.

And your decision was made. You could hear Aegon’s screams and your mind cruelly conjured every time he laughed with you, the touch of his hand in yours, the whispered secrets you had given each other.

And it was about to be ripped away from you.

You sprinted toward Aegon, grabbing another weapon from around your waist and threw yourself into the fray with a scream that shredded your throat. Sunfyre’s golden fire rained down on the group but still more came, piling onto the beautiful dragon with glinting knives and screams of their own. Again and again you stabbed and swung and killed, pushing your way through the crowd to get to them. To get to Aegon. And then you were standing in front of him, a blood-covered blade in each hand and your heart roaring in your ears. And Aegon was warm at your back for just a moment before collapsing and you saw red and then gold as Sunfyre roared again. You could taste the other men’s blood on your tongue as it mixed with the greasy ash that swept by you, but still…you could not stop. Not until Aegon was safe.

You knocked away a knife as it aimed for your stomach and then took the man’s head from his shoulders with a roar of your own and then sank into the sand. Blood had soaked you to the bone…but it was done. Turning on your knees, you threw down your weapons and scrambled to drag Aegon into your arms. Sunfyre hissed, his own blood steaming into the purple light of dawn from where the attackers had managed to wound him, and curled his golden tail around you.

“Aegon? Aegon, can you look at me? Open your eyes!” Your bloodied hands patted at his face, his chest, anywhere you could think to touch him that wasn’t wounded. A crimson stain had spread across his stomach, a matching one down his left thigh. And he was…

“You…magnificent woman…” Slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, blood on his teeth.

Tears quickly blurred your vision but you hurried to blink them away as you stared down at him. “Do not worry. I…I will get a maester. You are going to be…” The tears came again. “We are going to be just fine. You and me.” He had to be. He had to. You just got him back.

Aegon reached up and brushed his fingers against the drying blood on your cheek. “I knew you’d come. My bloody savior. My vicious lady.”

“Did I not tell you?” You asked, almost laughing. “I would always come to you.”

The battle might be won, your men cheering and Tessarion roaring overhead, but you knew, as Aegon looked at you and found the strength to wrap his hand around the back of your neck and gently pull you down so your forehead pressed against his, sticky and warm, something else had changed.

Aegon loved you. He loved you. He had loved you a few moments after you had offered to teach him Bastard Valyrian, picking him above all others. You had wanted him, over and over again. And he wanted you. Loved you.

And you were leaving him again.

The war was over. His family was safe. His sister’s reign was at peace, again. His siblings, niece, and nephews were settling into happy and mostly politically advantageous marriages. (He would still never understand why it took Aemond so long to get married to Lady Arryn but that was a story he could be told later, he assumed.)

But why not him? And why not with you?

You had run to him when the Triarchy had nearly overwhelmed him and Sunfyre. You had killed for him. So why were you leaving again?

Now, Aegon could have a silver tongue when the situation called for it, and often when it didn’t. But why could he not form the words to keep you from leaving again? He could not bear it a second time. Not again. Not when he just had you back. And why did this affliction now of all times? He’d never had trouble speaking with you before.

But still, he wordlessly watched as you and your men milled about the Great Hall, esteemed guests at the festivities celebrating the obliteration of the Triarchy. Aegon’s wounds were still tender but would heal, several maesters had checked and then checked again at the behest of his mother and eldest sister. And you were set to leave at first light tomorrow, back to Lonely Light. Away from him.

You caught his eye over your father’s shoulder and smiled at him, radiant and beautiful. You had been beautiful covered in blood and gore. You had been beautiful when you were in your finest gowns and your oldest sailing leathers. You were beautiful.

And then Aegon was standing and moving through the crowd, ignoring how his side protested and his leg burned with the sudden movement. He had to see you, touch you, let you know that he loved you. He bit back a snarl as someone collided with him but still carried on until he was standing beside you.

Brief but formal introductions had been made ages ago but Aegon was not entirely sure what the older man thought of him. Lord Farwynd was stern and Aegon was only momentarily stunned silent when he turned his gaze toward him. “It took you some time to make your way over here, princeling.”

Aegon’s smile felt a little crooked but it settled when you laughed and knocked your arm into your father’s side. “Father, please.”

He simply nodded his head, the very edges of his lips curling in a ghost of a smile. “I doubt I am the one you came to speak to.” Lord Farwynd pressed a soft kiss to her temple before walking away without really giving Aegon any sort farewell.

You looked like you were about to say something but Aegon couldn’t wait and wrapped both of his hands around one of yours and started to tug you toward one of the balconies. “I must speak with you.”

And you followed without a word but he could feel your gaze pressing into the back of his head and as he hurried to drag you behind the curtain and stone pillar of the nearest one.

“Aegon? What-”

He kissed you.

To be true, that was not what he had intended to do but he could not stop himself when the moonlight hit your eyes and your mouth looked so…perfect.

But you kissed him back.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him tight. It was a little uncoordinated, but Aegon didn’t care. He could teach you, and he could learn what you liked. You could learn together. And when you smiled against his mouth, Aegon’s entire chest felt like it was near to bursting. His hands framed your face and he pulled you closer, barely letting either of your lungs fill with your next breath, and kissed you kissed you kissed you.

He could kiss you forever.

And he wanted to.

“Marry me,” he murmured against your mouth. “Please, please, marry me. Be my wife and let me be your husband.”

You paused and your fingers moved to brush through the curls at the nape of his neck. He watched with rapt attention as you bit at your lip. “Aegon, Lonely light is so far from the Red Keep. I would-”

“The distance is nothing to a dragon. And I want to be with you. It was always you. It will always be you.” His thumbs smoothed soft circles into your cheeks and your eyes shuttered as you leaned a little into the touch. He should have been doing this for years. Why had he wasted so much time? “I will happily go where you lead. I will follow you everywhere.” He paused. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. I want to be your husband. Please, tell me if your heart is the same as mine.”

Your thumb pressed against his bottom lip as your next breath stuttered against his. And then you kissed him, just enough for Aegon to chase your lips, eyes closed, when you pulled back after a few too-short moments. “I love you, too.”

Aegon’s eyes opened and his answering smile almost hurt but he did not care when he pulled you closer, hands bracketing your hips. Just for a moment, he let him think of all the things he would learn about you soon enough…if you accepted his proposal.

The tears in your eyes gave him hope as they sparkled in the low light. “Will you tell your sister and mother or shall I?”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd

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