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elegantsplendour · 10 months

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Love Is A Downfall

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3? | Epilogue

Summary:

One girl, two dragons.

Bound to one, attached to an another.

Love is the most powerful form of magic.

Love is the fuel that leads to destruction.

Fear leads of anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

Pairing 💕 : Aemond Targaryen x !Redwyne reader x Aegon II Targaryen

Warnings / contains in this part: smut, fluff, 3some, some violence and gore, slight angst, green biased pov.

Word count: 5k

Ps: Would love to see your comments 💗

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @aemondx @theroyaldixon @heavenly1927

Other friends: @purple-writer8 @boundlessfantasy @qyburnsghost @lovelykhaleesiii @snh96 @amiraisgoingthruit @arcielee @chompchompluke @godrakin ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶　　　　　　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

“Tell me what you see, Aemond,” she gasped for air as another deep and hard thrust drove her closer to the brink of ecstasy, “I want to hear it.”

Aemond chuckled, squeezing her backside possessively before whispering in her ears, “I see your body, flushed and glistening with sweat," he began, his hot breath teasing her, “Your back arched, offering yourself to me.”

He left a delicious mark on the fragile skin of her neck, “I see the curve of your hips, the smoothness of your skin. Your beautiful bottom bouncing on my cock as I slam into you, claiming you as mine, again and again.”

Aemond grasped a strand of her silky hair gently as she whimpered tantalizingly, “I love you.”

Just he was about to lean down and kiss her, his brother’s voice, filled with amusement, echoed the room, “How adorable. She’s never told me that even I am her husband to be.”

Aemond growled in frustration at the interruption while the little figure under him giggled, “Shut up, Aeg. You know I love you both, just in different ways.”

Aemond turned her head roughly for a feverish kiss, “I love you,” he smirked at Aegon and bit her earlobe and teased, “My Queen.”

Aegon tensed as he closed the distance between them and tilted her bouncing chin caused by his brother’s forceful pounding, “You say you love me? My lustful betrothed?”

Aegon explored her mouth with his tongue meticulously.

He loved her too, but not the way Aemond did.

“Then take me in your mouth,” Aegon commanded, petting her hair tenderly.

Aemond glared at him ferociously at the provocative grin. He had no choice but to tolerate this.

She was too kind, too caring, too selfless, too innocent, well not exactly, to refuse either of them.

Aemond often cursed the gods for gifting Aegon such a soul.

Her mother, Erya Redwyne, childhood friend of Queen Alicent, brought her into the world the same day Aegon was born at the cost of her own life.

As the joyous cries of the two infants echoed through the Red Keep like a hopeful symphony, their fate was sealed.

Queen Alicent often jested about how Aegon used to steal her favorite toys in the nursery, causing the angelic young girl to cry.

Yet over the years, of all the responsibilities Aegon failed in, she remained the only exception.

Aemond could remember one instant after Aegon’s cruel taunts on his bastard nephews and him, his demeanor immediately changed as he welcomed her on piggyback.

Seven Years Ago

“You are so cruel! Let me down, Aegon!!” She protested yet her giggles pleaded otherwise.

“Why? I think I enjoy tormenting a young lady like you than my stoic brother,” Aegon grinned, his hands steadily on her calves while swirling her wildly.

Jace and Luke laughed while Aemond watched, a bizarre sensation burning in his stomach.

She seemed to have sensed his gaze and jumped off of Aegon without warning.

Aemond’s eyes widened as she, a head taller than him at the time, enclosed him in a tight embrace, “Your brother had been cruel to you again, hasn’t he? My sweet Aemond?” She leaned down and squeezed his cheeks, leaving the older brother whine in annoyance, “You could’ve fallen on the sharp stones and leave an ugly scar on your legs,” Aegon narrowed his eyes at the sight of his girl comforting his brother, “And your future lord husband will close his eyes while he beds you.”

She looked at Aegon unbelievably with hurt, anger and embarrassment.

“Let’s go,” she took the young prince’s small hands and left the training yard.

Aemond slightly raised his head and caught glimpse of diamond like drops forming in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.

And he knew why. The last time she cried, Aegon had called her an insolent ladybug.

Aemond, although young and small, spoke courteously, hoping to ease her sadness, “My lady, you are beautiful. Your grace far surpasses the mere allure of your physical beauty. You have a kind, and compassionate heart,” he swallowed, trying to look her in the eyes but failed as he returned his gaze on the ground, “I am thankful to have you in my life. Your future lord husband, no matter who he might be,” Aemond’s voice caught in his throat, he knew who she would eventually belong to, “Would be lucky to have you.”

But what he truly meant was, “I wish to have you as Aegon does.”

Surely, Aemond didn’t know what his wish signified. Until Driftmark. Or better. Until he found them pleasuring each other in his brother’s chamber.

But that was another story.

Aemond groaned as his felt his release approached. He bent down, squeezing her breasts, and whispered, “You ok, love? I am going to spill into you.”

Her nods were barely recognizable as Aegon buried her head mercilessly towards his hardened cock.

Aemond wanted to murder him.

If not for his gesture of tenderness.

Aegon slowed his pace and stroke her hair softly, looking at her for assurance.

She blinked at Aegon with mischief.

Of course, that, Aemond didn’t see.

After a deliciously short moment filled with moans, growls and screams of pleasure, they collapsed on the bed.

Aemond didn’t wait for an instant to envelop her in his arms before Aegon had the chance.

He pressed a kiss on her crown, murmuring sweet nothings to her ears, and caressed the deep and permanent scar on her left thigh over and over again.

Six Years Ago

“You really think that I should?” Aemond asked hesitantly.

“Of course you should!” She furrowed her brows, “A dragon is not property, not a heirloom to be passed on!”

Aemond lowered his head and smiled. Nothing could have made him stronger than to have her by his side.

Though, as the sea wind washed over their faces, she squeezed his hand anxiously, “But, I am scared if… if anything happens. You know, the dragons are-”

“Unpredictable,” Aemond nodded, “Even Targaryens may not be exceptions from their wrath.”

He reached out his hand and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ears, exposing her delicate features in all its beauty.

He had grown taller.

Almost as tall as her.

He noticed, secretly smirking in his mind.

“I’ll be there with you,” she declared.

Sensing his widened eyes and worries, she sealed his unspoken words with her finger, “And don’t you tell me what you to do! Little Aemond!”

Aemond breathed in annoyance as he rolled his eyes.

One day, he will be her equal.

He will be the fiercest warrior, a Targaryen that people sing ballads about for centuries, the best dragon rider of his generation, if not of any generation.

He will become her protector.

“Stay here!” He ordered under the dimly moonlight lit beach. It was the first time he spoke to her with such authority.

It felt good, Aemond admitted it, not the control he exercised on her, but the fact that he knew that he was protecting her from harm.

“Aem,” she reached out his arm desperately before letting go, “Be careful. I’ll come to you if anything happens.”

Aemond stood stunned momentarily. He cupped her cheeks and promised full of conviction, “I will come back just fine. More than fine. I will become the rider of the largest dragon in the world. You will be the first one I rider her with. We’ll fly across the Narrow Sea, visit Pentos, Bravoos, Lys. We will be the rulers of the sky.”

She smiled faintly and leaned into his touch, “I’ve never had more faith in anyone, at any moment, than I do to you, right now. Go, Aemond Targaryen. Claim her. I know you can.”

She watched his distancing figure with a mixture of pride and anxiety.

Aemond desired more than what he was handed to him.

He will never be satisfied.

He would not himself without his thirst for the world.

She loved him, though she didn’t fully understand what that word meant. It was different from what she felt for Aegon.

But she was sure of it, no matter what, she would follow him.

For what seemed like an eternity for her,

Aemond’s cries of raw excitement, exhilaration, and rush of adrenaline flowing his veins mixed with her cheers of pure pride and joy.

The green beast left out an equally ferocious roar, as if she shared his rider’s overwhelming emotions.

As the two rushed back into the castle, sand and joy written over their faces, they were fretted with five accusing figures, demanding for justice, she had anticipated. But she was wrong. They demanded for blood.

“It’s them!” The younger sister pointed at Aemond.

“It’s me,” Aemond held her hands confidently. He was no longer the dragonless spare, the little boy who needed her protection.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon,” Rhaena protested.

Before the girl beside him could retort, Aemond spat back, “Your mother’s dead and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim,” the younger sister clenched her fists.

Perhaps it was the allure of his newly claimed power, or it was truly his true nature emerging, Aemond tilted his head provocatively, “Then you should’ve claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.”

Her tangled hands stretched his arms, her eyes stared at him with disbelief, “Aem, don’t say that,” she whispered urgently.

Aemond clenched his jaw as he recognized the look on her face. It was the same one when his brother made that cruel jest.

They stared at each other for a short moment, forgetting the rival tension rising in the air.

The confused peace was brutally shattered as Rhaena’s punch landed on Aemond’s nose.

Caught off guard fleetingly, Aemond’s fury unleashed itself as another punch from Baela Targaryen on her.

With a burst of strength, he pushed the two sisters on the cold ground and tugged her into his arms, “Come at her again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!”

The next blow came from Jace, jumping on him with a rain of strikes, followed by Luke and the two sisters.

Yet she didn’t hold back. Aemond had never witnessed this side of her. Being slightly older than the Targaryen-Velaryon sisters, she held a slight advantage as she grabbed Baela’s hair violently and threw her on the floor.

Rhaena soon came to help of her sister, the three of them engaged in a savage dance of violence.

There was a fire in her that was unleashed, untamed and primal.

“You cowards!” She seethed while pinning Rhaena on the ground, “A dragon is not a slave. The dragon chooses its rider and she chose Aemond! Get your empty heads over it.”

Aemond, fueled by her words, twisted Jace’s fist directed at him toward towards his own chest with a taunting smirk, making him cry out in pain before kicking him on the ground.

With a swift move, he seized Luke’s neck and a rock in his hand.

“You will die screaming just like your father did,” Aemond sneered, “Bastards.”

“My father is still alive!” The small boy gasped for air.

“He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong?”Aemond chuckled, glaring at Jace, then at her, like a lion conquering a new terrain, declaring its victory and superiority, not only to instill fear into its opposing beasts, but also to impress the lioness.

As Aemond embraced the rush of victory and lowered down the rock, a shining dagger rose of Jace’s hand went unnoticed.

“Aem- Watch out!” She shrieked, capturing Jace’s hand with all her strength.

Everything blurred in Aemond’s eyes as his nephew growled and cut deep her thighs, a stream of blood bursting out of her flesh.

He rushed to her side and tried to cover the blood loss, but it was no use. The wound was too deep and in a critical place. She looked up at him in confusion and fear, her teeth trembled at the shade of deep red.

“You will pay for this!” He gritted his teeth, reseizing the rock before shoved Jace viciously on the floor.

Baela and Rhaena, shocked by the unseen rage of their cousin, stepped back.

“Aemond, we’ve won! Step down now!” She cried, her face mingling with tears of fear and blood from her open wound.

His gaze softened, hand lowering down the weapon.

He wished to carry her into his arms to the maesters.

How fate had an ironic twist.

Everything went scarlet and black as the ravaging pain cut through his left eye.

Aemond curled into a ball on the floor. His shrieks of pain mingling with her screams of horror tormented him like a giant bell ringing ringing in his head.

She jumped on his nephew, “You little rat! I will kill you!”

He heard Luke’s screams of help, Jace’s and her growls as they wrestled on the ground, trashing and pummeling each other.

Seconds slipped away, Aemond could do nothing but grapple in agony.

His lost eye continued to flow streams of blood while the other was forced to watch Jacaerys’ training in swordsmanship overpowering her advantage in height, her being chocked helplessly on the cold ground.

Their gaze locked.

She looked at him with despair.

Sorry. Her eyes told him. I am sorry that I couldn’t protect you.

In that l moment, a solemn vow crystallized within him - he pledged to do whatever it took to shield them both from ever enduring such depths of despair again. He would seize the future in his hands, defying even the gods if need be, to bestow upon her nothing but hope and joy.

The next thing he remembered was Ser Harrold Westerling dragging Jace from delivering another slap on her face.

Her thigh continued to ooze a ghastly flow of unstemmed blood.

She lost her conscience as the knight pulled Aemond from the ground.

With every fiber of his being aflame, he unleashed a torrent of hysterical screams, as though his desperate calls possessed the power to wrench her from the clutches of the Stranger, to defy the realms of the departed, and reunite her with the realm of the living, with him.

Both of them were brought to the maesters. Aemond’s teeth sank into each other, his fingers digging into his flesh at the piercing pain as the maester retreated his broken eye and wove his scar.

And she was there, lying peacefully as if she had fallen into a slumber, unaware of the healer’s hands on her flesh.

“It would heal, will it not, maester?” Alicent’s trembled as she asked.

Reminded by his mother, Aegon demanded with equal urgency at the maester treating the flesh of her thighs, “It will heal. Right?”

“The lady has lost considerable amount of blood, my prince.

The older prince felt hot tears swollen with hot tears.

He gently caressed her cheeks.

She was his responsibility and he failed her.

“The flesh will heal, but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

“The flesh will heal, but the scar is permanent, my prince.”

Aemond watched his mother striking his brother on the face, “Where were you?”

“This,” Alicent spat furiously, “Is nothing compared to the abuse your brother and betrothed suffered when you were drowning in your cups, you fool!”

Aegon bit his lips, turning his head from his mother as he forced his tears back.

Alicent was right. He had indulged himself again, yet it was because his betrothed distanced herself from him ever since that jest in the training yard. He was such a coward, Aegon cursed himself, why couldn’t he just apologize?

If he had excused himself, he wouldn’t have been drown in cups, he would’ve been by her side, she wouldn’t have laid unconscious, Aemond wouldn’t have lost his eye.

The rest of that fateful night concluded in accusations and turmoils.

The agony of the sight of her fragile form and his wound prevented from memorizing everything about that fateful night of accusations and turmoils, but there was one thing etched into his memories.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves,” Rhaenyra pushed her children behind her, “Vile insults were levied against them. The legitimacy of my sons’ birth has been put into question. This is the highest of treason, Your Grace. Prince Aemond and Lady Redwyne must be sharped questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent shook her head in disbelief, “My son has lost and eye!” She pointed her finger at the girl in slumber, “And she! She is Erya’s daughter!” Alicent exclaimed, “You would torture Erya’s daughter?!”

Silence was the princess’ answer. It was obvious that the queen’s attempt at recalling the memory of their deceased best friend was at no avail.

“You won’t touch her!” Aegon stood before her, his violet eyes blazing with an unprecedented fire.

“No one is to be tortured, boy,” the old king glanced at his eldest son and approached Aemond, “You tell me. Where did you hear such slanders?”

Aemond faced the broken old man he had been forced to call father and king head on. He looked at Alicent, then at Rhaenyra, Daemon,

Aegon, then, at her.

“It was Aegon,” he said.

“Me?”

“And you! Boy! Where did you hear such slanders?”

Aegon took a deep breath, averting his gaze on the floor, seeking to appear as clueless as possible, “Everybody knows, father. Just… Look at them.”

As the room fell into a haunting silence, Aemond and Aegon exchanged a look.

They hadn’t wanted to be a part of this fight, but their half-sister had forced their hand.

She had just threatened their everything, her.

Now, they would play ruthlessly together.

Present day

“Aem,” she purred, nestling in his chest.

Chuckling, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her with utmost adoration. She slowly rolled herself on top of him, her soft breast lied flat on his stomach and her ears pressed against his racing heart.

“Can I hold you?”

After gods know much time, Aegon asked with a hint of longing and jealousy.

She twinkled, sneaking a peck on Aemond’s cheek before accepting Aegon’s invitation.

Even tugged in Aegon’s embrace, she gazed back at Aemond with uncertainty.

With a mild smile and nod, she giggled and wrapped her arms around her betrothed with any reservation.

Did Aemond mind sharing her with his brother, the soon king to be?

The fuck yes.

Yet the One-Eyed Prince would do anything for the future queen of Seven Kingdoms.

The story how Rhaenyra gave up her claim on the Iron Throne was one both brothers, especially Aegon, was proud of.

It didn’t take much other than hiring a few pirates across the Narrow Sea to kidnap the Realm’s Delight and the Rogue Prince’s first born son to force her hand.

And…

A few more drops of herbs in the milk of poppy their father consumed daily, and an edict composed of, or deadly similar to, King Viserys’ handwriting.

Aemond kept watching the sight before him. Her fingers trailed on his brother’s chest. She leaned in to murmur something audible only to Aegon, who smirked and captured her lips into a passionate kiss before hovering her pliant body under him.

He diverted his gaze.

Seven Moons Ago

The first time he had seen them in such intimacy was on his seventeenth name day. The prince refused to display it, but butterflies burnt in his stomach as he replayed the anticipating whispers of her promises of an unforgettable gift. Curiosity reigned his mind as he strolled the Red Keep to the library, a sanctuary he would most likely to find her in.

Yet the spectacle before him made his world crumble down.

She looked like an exquisite doll at his brother’s mercy, his one hand exploring her forbidden forest while the other massaging her soft breast.

“Aeg, please,” she whimpered, grinding her core to the magic of his hand.

“Please what, my little betrothed,” Aegon whispered seductively while trailing a series of kisses down her neck, “For me not to stop? Squeeze your breasts harder? Or spank you over my knees for being such a lustful maiden? You’ll have to be specific.”

“All. Everything, please,” she arched her back, offering herself to him, exposing her neck while letting head fall backwards.

And that’s how she caught glimpse of Aemond.

“Aemond!”

She screamed. Her face flushed. Guilt and apology all over her features.

“It… it isn’t what it looks like.”

Aegon chortled at his brother’s murdering look, “Calm down, Aemond. It’s my duty to satisfy my betrothed’s unfulfilled desires in-“ he taunted, “Ways that violate the codes of propriety the least.”

Aemond breathed, his nostrils observably widened with fury, “Indeed, I will leave you to it,” he returned his gaze to her, his tone grave and devoid of emotions, “Enjoy yourself, my lady.”

Storming off from the library, Aemond felt disgusting liquids forming in his good eye while an excruciating ache formed in his sapphire eye where his lost eye used to be.

Urgent footsteps and her calling echoing behind him only urged him to stroll faster.

“Aemond! Please, let me explain!” She pressed her hand on his closing door desperately.

He didn’t respond. She was Aegon’s betrothed, destined to be his the moment she stepped into the world . He had only been a foolish, jealous and pathetic little boy hoping one day she could love him. However, despite every fiber of his being telling him that she had nothing to apologize for, he couldn’t help but to feel betrayed.

It was his name day, yet it felt like the most precious thing in his life had been ripped away from his heart.

“I am sorry,” her lips trembled.

“Why?” He tilted her chin, making her look him straight in the eye. He longed for her answer. He thirsted for the truth. Behind his commanding voice, Aemond Targaryen’s heart begged her to give him the very answer he craved, even if it knew it was wrong.

“I…” she opened her mouth, trying to find the right words.

“Tell me,” he stepped closer, “Is it because you know that my heart races every time I find you in proximity? That I have to force myself to divert my gaze every time Aegon has you in his arms? That every second of my life had been an excruciating torment, always desiring things and people that I can never have?”

Her eyes opened wide with shock and dilemma. She reached her hand to touch his cheek, “Some of it, perhaps,” she answered, her voice barely than s whisper, “But above all, because, because…”

He was convinced she bit her tongue out of nervousness.

“Because what?” Aemond demanded, his grip on her shoulders almost inciting pain.

“Because I love you.”

“What?” His voice almost a growl.

“I love you. I. Love. You,” she declared, tears swelling in her eyes, “I’ve always loved you.”

“And do you love him?” He shut the door abruptly, saving them both from the prying eyes, before cornering her on the wall like an wolf ready to devour a sheep.

Biting her lips, she spoke again, “I do.”

She grabbed his hand as if she was scared that he would walk away, “But you don’t understand, Aemond. He… he’s been with me since I was born. We cried together, mumbled our first words to each other. Aegon,” she hardened her resolve, “He is a part of me.”

To her surprise, Aemond pressed his forehead on hers, their lips only inches apart, “Do you love him like you love me? As much as you love me?”

A profound silence enveloped them.

“No.”

It was all it took for Aemond to crash on her lips.

Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies like like two starving migrants caught sight of honey on another.

As they gasped for breath, she slowly slipped her gown off and pressed her flesh against him, “I had a present for you, my prince. But I think you would prefer this gift.”

The prince’s movement froze at her offer.

It was too unreal. Too wrong yet too tempting.

“Has he?”

She understood the question and shook her head.

“Are you sure? Once we go down this path, there is no going back,” Aemond held the back of her neck tenderly, his one eye searching for any sign of hesitation.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life than right now, with you.”

“I’ve never had more faith in anyone, at any moment, than I do to you, right now. Go, Aemond Targaryen. Claim her. I know you can.”

The bittersweet flashback at Driftmark, when he was still whole, was all he needed for assurance.

She wrapped her arms around Aemond’s lean yet muscular shoulders as he carried her to the bed.

“I want to see you, all of you.”

With Aemond’s hands quivered, she took the initiative and slowly removed the barrier between them.

“I love you,” she murmured as she kissed the scar that lined the prince’s sapphire eye.

Aemond smirked as he traced his kisses in an agonizing pace to the centre of her core, “Let me show you how much I love you, my queen.”

She moaned at the title that she was soon to bear, a shameful yet arousing reminder of the betrayal against her betrothed, the man with whom she came to this world together.

Aemond took time particularly at the scar on her left thigh, savouring every imperfection with his tongue.

“Aem! Watch out!”

The image of Jacaerys’ blade cutting sliced through her perfect skin still gnawed his spirit.

“I should’ve killed him for what he did to you,” Aemond kissed her flesh possessively.

A light chuckle came from her mouth, “And now, you can. Aemond Targaryen,” she stretched out her fingers and teased the prince’s rarely messy hair, “But he is not worth our time.”

Her words were cut off by a loud moan as Aemond inserted a finger inside her while pressing his thumb on her pearl.

“Is that how he touched you?” He groaned, “Does he make you feel like this?” Aemond grinned before using one hand to to make her straddle him, the other squeezing her round bottom, eliciting another moan from her lips.

“Not like you do, Aem,” she kissed him hungrily, eagerly grinding and teasing his hardened length, “Take me now. I am ready. Just,” she swallowed, “Be gentle.“

“Hmm,” he kissed along her collarbones, “I’ve never been good at gentle, but I’ll do my best for you. Always,” he pressed another kiss on her cheek, “I’ll do anything for you.”

With that, Aemond gently lifted her hips, allowing her to adjust to his length at her own rhythm.

Taking him fully, he sensed her body wince at the discomfort, her nails plunging into the flesh of his shoulders, her head buried behind his back.

“We can stop, love,” the prince wiped away a tear from her cheek caused by the pain.

“No,” she smiled, the trace of liquid still apparent on her skin, “I want you, I am sure of it.”

The two of them moved delicately, melting the unspoken and forbidden tension built between them like snow under the sun.

The initial winces of pain transformed quickly into soft whimpers of pleasure and light giggles.

“Do I bring you pleasure, love?” His voice laced with tenderness, “For your pleasure is my utmost desire.”

She laughed softly and met his stroke eagerly, “What do you think, my sweet Aemond?”

She then started leaving kisses on the top of his head, his hair, messing his silver lock with an insatiable appetite.

“My Queen,” he groaned, “I’m close.”

With a smirk, she took control and pinned his hands above his head, “Me too, my sweet prince.”

Although Aemond One-Eye rejoiced his Queen’s vigor, the blood of the dragon runs hotter than the blood of Redwyne.

He flipped over roughly on her back and replunged himself inside her.

“Gods, Aem,” she whined, “Fuck me like the dragon you are.”

Aemond’s breath hitched, his laughter filled the room, “I will fuck you until you forget your own name, my precious,” he whispered in her ears before slamming his hips into hers with all his might.

As the sinful slapping and screams of pleasure transformed the room into a sanctuary isolated from the rest of the world, the two collapsed on one another.

“Moon tea, then?” She asked softly.

“Moon tea,” he nodded, “for now.”

They stayed entangled in each other for quite a while. Thoughts swarmed through his mind like a hive of bees.

He took her maidenhead.

He, Aemond Targaryen, took her maidenhead.

She, Aegon’s promised, loved him.

She loved them both.

How could this story conclude happily?

Aemond forced out the few dark possibilities that crossed over his mind.

At least, he couldn’t possibly do that to her.

She seemed to have sensed his worries and kissed his forehead, “I’ll find a way, I promise.”

That’s how the three ended up here.

A week after their first passionate encounter, they found themselves giving into their desires again in the secrecy of Aemond’s chamber.

This time, Aegon burst in with a smug face.

“Mind if I join you?”

Aemond’s throat burnt with rage and embarrassment, “Get out.”

The older brother shrugged and did the opposite, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ears, “We tell each other everything, Aemond. I’ve known that she loved you for quite a while now.”

Do you know that she loves me more?

He wanted to throw that question onto his brother’s face, but he didn’t, for her sake.

Seeing Aemond’s clenching fists, Aegon moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck, “I would do anything for her. I wouldn’t let her lose anything or anyone she loves, wouldn’t you, brother?”

She slowly reached Aemond’s hand hesitantly, “Are you mad at me, Aem?”

“No,” he cupped her cheeks, “Never at you, love.

Two sides fought brutally in the battlefield of Aemond Targaryen’s head.

One side lured him to rip off his brother’s head off.

The other side urged him to accept offer.

He chose the second option.

Present day

The inky night enveloped the sky at the hour of the Wolf.

The two brothers turned over and found the space between them empty.

She stood in solitude under the moon, her hair cascading down, her body enrobed by nothing but an almost transparent night gown.

A goddess.

They both thought.

“What are your thinking about, love?” Aegon left a feather light kiss on her neck.

She smiled and turned around to face them, “It’s a fortnight until the wedding and coronation.”

Aemond’s figure tensed.

“So many things are about to change. So many new responsibilities,” she sighed, drifting her gaze to the centre of King’s Landing, where undercurrents surges even in the darkest of nights.

“This,” she lowered her head, “Can’t continue. At least, not like this.”

Aemond’s heartbeat raced at her declaration.

She couldn’t abandon him.

She couldn’t.

Her chuckle slightly released his tension as she leaned into his chest.

“What she means is that we can’t lay together anymore,” Aegon clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice, “Relax yourself, brother. She’d never let you go.”

Aemond smiled faintly as he carried her back to bed. They were right. Although the moon tea had served as a temporary solution for their indiscretion, its effectiveness had been limited. Once a child was conceived under the scandalous circumstances, it would be impossible to know who the father was.

She grinned softly before drifting to sleep, “You are both going to be fathers. So get rid of your childishness, especially you, Aeg.”

As two of them fell into a delicious slumber, Aemond stared at the ceiling alone, contemplating the possibilities of the future.

It seemed like everything was falling into place.

Rhaenyra’s claim destroyed.

Aegon finally starting to take interests in his responsibilities.

Her declaring that she loved him, even more than his brother.

Them finding a way for their love to co-exist.

Despite all the signs of peace, Aemond couldn’t help but to have a lingering impression that it was the calm before the storm.

Author’s note: Team Aem or team aeg? Lemme know your thoughts.😚

Whispering, hinting: enjoy part 1 while you can ;) 🥺

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buben-ustal · 3 months

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Beautiful family comission for @presidenthades

#house of the dragon #fanart #hotd #art #illustration #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon x oc #aegon ii fanart

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scaly-freaks · 1 day

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cherry wine stains 8.0

playing it a little differently and rewinding back to their school years but with an Aegon POV this time.

all previous parts in pinned.

"I like your knee-high socks."

"I like the chain you wear like a crucifix."

"Strange way to describe it."

"I don't know. It just - it hangs around your neck like the absence of something."

Her words dissolve like sugar into the cup of his mind.

Clever people don't realise the riptide of their soul is not being fed until they meet another clever person. Aegon's currents slow to a whispered crawl as his eyes trace Amara's profile, creating images in the tangle of her windswept curls.

She's left a lipstick print on his mother's favourite mug. When he sees it, his soul unhooks from where he keeps it folded away, right there at the base of his neck where the silver chain fastens.

Later, he'll kiss that print, see if the measure of his mouth is enough.

Helaena told him in private: You can't! You can't, you can't, you can't! You ruin everything!

The frantic protests of a younger sister who thinks - knows - that her older brother getting involved with one of her friends is going to end up in a loss for her. He's dated one of Helaena's friends before (it ended in the kind of operatic disaster you only ever see on Eastenders).

He does not want to date Amara as much as he wants to pry her open like a game of cat's cradle and weave apart the strings that keep her mobile. Half the time, Aegon suspects she isn't truly awake. Some part of her is drowning in slumber, deep as Briar Rose. He catches that moment sometimes, as she blinks at him with those sleepy eyes.

The texture of her thoughts - when she gives them up - slips like satin over his fingers.

"Do you want a smoke?" He flips the mint-green box in his palm and grins.

Her gaze is longing. "I told my mother I'd quit. Besides, aren't menthol cigarettes banned here?"

He shrugs, slipping one between his pinched lips to hold it steady. "Nothing's banned if you squint."

"Flawed logic," she laughs.

"She said to a drug dealer."

That makes her laugh harder. He likes making her laugh. Feels worthwhile somehow. Not much in his life feels that way these days.

The younger siblings are all growing up, leaving school, moving onto greener pastures, where the chaotic drudgery of the council estate turns into a crystalline vision in the rearview, something to put into personal statements and add what rich tossers would call flavour.

They don't need him like they used to. He and his mother have raised them to become self-sufficient and now Aegon has to figure out what he wants to do with himself because where the kids are going, they won't want to admit what their brother does - has done - for a living to ensure their survival. He predicts he'll be the family embarrassment every Christmas, the uncle that shows up drunk, with a sliver of something in his eyes that suggests he could have been something once.

He knows he won't end up that way. His need to be someone, get somewhere, is far too aggressive. But he does fear no longer being needed by the people who have relied on him so long he can no longer extricate himself from the identity of protector.

Maybe it's why he likes making Amara laugh.

She doesn't have siblings. Her eyes still dart around, nervous, as if aware her protection in this world is lacking compared to that of others. Her parents won't always be around. When they are gone, there won't be siblings to divide her grief up with. It'll just be her.

If his subconscious is turning her into his new surrogate sister, it doesn't reconcile well with the instinct that stirs when her skirt rides up an inch.

Alicent's stained glass lamp flickers, bulb on the brink of permanent death. Aegon reaches over to ensure it is screwed on properly and it affords them a last burst of weak light. Amara reaches out her hand under the dappled glow of its illumination, slipping her fingers under the violets, yellows and greens, as the crook of her elbow turns rose pink.

"I've always liked your mother's taste in furniture."

"Yeah? Take it. She wants to throw it out."

"No. If she's decided it's dead, it should go. I'll just be keeping the corpse if I took it."

Aegon's eyes wrinkle at the corners, smile disguised by the inhale of the cigarette. "It's not organic material. There's no corpse."

She glances at him, as if aware of his mockery despite the affection he delivers it with. "I think some inanimate objects come alive if they are loved enough. Alicent's had this lamp since I've known her. It's lived with her, and now it'll die. We shouldn't interrupt the process."

No wonder Helaena adores her.

They are both odd creatures, his little sister, and this intense, doll-eyed mirage that turned up at their doorstep one day, hungry for oven chips and love. She reached out her cold hands to Alicent, and found herself overwhelmed with the warmth and affection given in return.

He's known her so long, she should feel like a sibling.

What does it say about him if he can't stop wondering what it must feel like to graze his lips over her stomach and tongue that bellybutton ring she got in a short-lived fit of rebellion?

Aegon flicks aside the cigarette, mouth acidic with guilt.

He isn't the kind of person who wants. Other people want. Aegon goes out and gets. There isn't enough time to submerge in the feeling of want and understand the true depth of craving the human soul can achieve.

But he sees the whorl of soft hair at the nape of her neck and the feeling crawls up the rungs of his ribcage like a creature possessed. He pictures being small enough to curl up in the soft folds of her clothing, to soak in the scent of her until he passes out from exhaustion.

That feels like enough wanting for today.

"I'll see you downstairs, yeah?"

If she looks disappointed, it's just wishful thinking on his part. She knows he's not going anywhere. He'll be in the living room with the rest of the family who've put on Shrek and are split into two groups - the half that sings along, and the half that won't.

"I'll be down in a bit."

"Cool."

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair, and the flimsy ribbon comes loose. He catches it before it finds freedom. She turns, expectant, waiting for the inevitable return of her almost-lost property. He pulls it between his fingers, wonders if it also carries life inside the woven thread, the way she claimed his mother's lamp does.

The weight of her hair rivals Isolde's.

Irish myths were a rooted part of his childhood, laced into Alicent's quiet voice every bed time. She swears the Hightowers are mostly, if not fully, Irish. But she could never be sure of how far back, or of the intricacies of any bloodlines. Rich people have the luxury of unfurling a family tree across the polished mahogany of their dining room table. They get to find their eyes, noses and mouths in the faces of people who lived too long ago to care what has become of their DNA.

Poor people make do with maybes and perhaps because most of the time, the lives of their ancestors are of no interest to anyone but themselves. Unless a mining forefather was crushed in a collapse and the resulting riots tore down a political establishment.

So, his mother pulled them back to times so ancient, the ancestors became common for all, their bloodlines too distant to maintain individuality.

If Tristan and Isolde are in Aegon's ancestry, that past life becomes tangible when he runs his fingers through Amara's hair and tames it into a braid he's practiced on Helaena a hundred times.

"There's something mythical about your hair," he says, and then cuts himself short because he deals drugs for a living, and whatever fancy thought this was about to be would make more sense from someone more booksmart.

She cranes her neck back and gives him the brightest upside-down smile. "That's the best compliment anyone's ever given me."

Aegon bites the inner corner of his lip and nudges her to look straight so he can keep braiding.

Once her eyes are off his face, it splits into a smile. Warmth drains down his spine like gold egg yolk poured from its shell. Once the braid is done, he rests his chin on the top of her head, and passes it off as brotherly with a goldfish-squeeze of her cheeks.

He lingers, inhales deep, smells her, turns her scent into binary code that he will decipher in isolation later.

"Don't be too long. You'll catch your death out here."

#aegon ii targaryen #modern aegon #aegon ii x oc #aegon x oc #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii fic #aegon x amara #scalyfreakswrites #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #cherry wine stains part eight #modern hotd au #Spotify #alicent hightower #hotd oc #helaena targaryen

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 7 months

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The Stag and the Dragon

pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female OC

summary: Aegon has to marry a Baratheon girl, what was so attractive about her?

Word count: 3,9K

Warnings: Smut, Cunnilingus, Slight dirty talk, mean Aegon at first

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

In the dimly lit chamber of the Red Keep, the king's small council gathered, their faces illuminated by the flickering candles that lined the table. King Viserys I Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his expression grave as he surveyed his most trusted advisors. Among them were Queen Alicent, his daughters Rhaenyra, and Helaena, and his sons, Prince Aegon and Aemond. The tension in the room was palpable, for the matter at hand was of great import.

Viserys cleared his throat, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "My lords and ladies, thank you for convening today. As you all know, our realm faces a time of uncertainty, and it is imperative that we secure our alliances and strengthen the bonds between noble houses."

The council members exchanged knowing glances. They were well aware of the precarious state of the Seven Kingdoms, with simmering tensions and rivalries threatening to erupt into open conflict.

Aegon, the young prince, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been aware of the impending discussion, and it filled him with unease. He glanced to his left, where the Baratheons, Borros, and Olira, sat. His betrothed, Olira Baratheon, sat with an impassive expression, her stormy blue eyes fixed on the table before her.

Viserys continued, "To that end, it is my decision to strengthen our ties with House Baratheon. I have arranged a betrothal between my son, Prince Aegon, and Lady Olira Baratheon."

The announcement hung in the air, and Aegon could feel the eyes of the council turn toward him. His heart sank at the prospect of this union, a marriage arranged for political gain rather than love. He shot a quick glance at Olira, but her face remained a mask of composure.

Borros Baratheon, Olira's father and the lord of Storm's End, nodded in agreement. "A wise decision, Your Grace. This alliance will bring stability to the realm."

Aegon bit his lip, struggling to contain his frustration. He had hoped for a different future, one where he could choose his own path. But the burdens of his birthright weighed heavily upon him, and he knew that his desires were secondary to the needs of the realm.

Olira, on the other hand, gave no outward reaction. She had been prepared for this moment by her father, taught to hide her emotions behind a stoic facade. She understood the duty that came with her noble blood, even if it meant sacrificing her own desires.

Viserys concluded the meeting, "Let it be known that this betrothal is a sign of unity and strength. The wedding will take place in due time, and I expect both Houses Targaryen and Baratheon to uphold their obligations."

As the council members began to disperse, Aegon couldn't help but steal one last glance at Olira. Their fates were intertwined now, whether they liked it or not, and the weight of their responsibilities pressed heavily upon their young shoulders.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a labyrinth of beauty, a testament to the opulence and grandeur of the Targaryen dynasty. As Aegon and Olira strolled along the winding paths, the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves surrounded them. It was a serene backdrop for a union neither of them had chosen.

Aegon, his arms crossed and his expression sullen, walked a pace ahead of Olira. His displeasure with the betrothal was evident in every step, every furrowed brow. He had not wanted this, had not asked for it, and it was clear he had no intention of making it easy.

Olira, on the other hand, walked with a measured grace, her chin held high despite the growing tension in the air. She had been prepared for a life of duty and had resolved to meet this challenge with civility. Her father had told her that alliances between noble houses were the foundation of the realm's stability, and she was determined to do her part.

Queen Alicent, watching from a discreet distance, hoped that this walk would at least lead to some form of understanding between the betrothed. She knew that her son's disdain for the arrangement was only matched by Olira's quiet determination to make the best of it.

Aegon broke the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, Lady Olira, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Embroidery? Singing songs of love and honor?"

Olira's patience was wearing thin, and she finally replied, her tone cool and measured. "I find solace in reading, Your Grace. History, politics, and strategies of war interest me."

Aegon scoffed. "Of course, books. Just what every young lady dreams of. I prefer the sword and the thrill of combat, something you probably find rather unladylike."

Olira's eyes flashed with irritation, but she maintained her composure. "Not unladylike, Your Grace, simply different. I believe that knowledge can be a powerful weapon as well."

The tension between them was palpable, but Queen Alicent had hoped that their shared time in the garden would lead to at least a civil conversation. She decided to intervene, approaching the young couple with a smile that barely masked her concern.

"Enjoying the garden, my dears?" the queen inquired, her voice warm but tinged with a subtle hint of authority.

Aegon and Olira exchanged a glance, both recognizing the queen's intent to bridge the gap between them. Aegon grumbled under his breath, but Olira took the opportunity to be diplomatic.

"Yes, Your Grace," Olira replied with a forced smile. "The garden is truly beautiful."

Queen Alicent nodded in approval. "Good. You have much to learn about each other, but I have faith that you will find common ground. After all, you both have the best interests of the realm at heart."

As the queen continued to speak, Aegon and Olira exchanged polite nods, masking their true feelings. The walk in the gardens had done little to change their initial impressions of each other, but they both knew that their future was inexorably tied to the success of this betrothal.

And so, they would have to find a way to navigate the treacherous path that lay ahead, one step at a time, whether they liked it or not.

Olira subtly shifted the conversation, attempting to steer it toward the subjects she knew would capture Prince Aegon's interest. As they walked through the garden, she spoke of the lavish feasts, celebrations, and wine tastings she had attended in Storm's End, emphasizing the pleasures of fine wines and the art of winemaking. She couldn't help but notice Aegon's attention wavering from his mother's discussion about politics and alliances to her words.

Aegon's eyes brightened, and he leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. "You enjoy wine, Lady Olira?"

Olira nodded with a warm smile, her intuition proving correct. "Indeed, Your Grace. The variety of wines and the craftsmanship that goes into making them have always fascinated me. The different flavors, the stories behind each vintage, it's like experiencing a piece of history with every sip."

Aegon's demeanor relaxed as he found himself engaged in a conversation more to his liking. "I couldn't agree more. There's something captivating about the way a good wine can transport you to another world, even if only for a moment."

Encouraged by his response, Olira continued, "Perhaps one day, we could share a fine bottle of wine and exchange stories of our favorite vintages. It would be a pleasant diversion from the weight of our responsibilities."

Aegon's initial reluctance to spend time with Olira seemed to be melting away as they discussed their shared interest in wine. He chuckled, a rare smile gracing his features. "You might be onto something, Lady Olira. I could use a distraction from all these talks of alliances and politics."

Queen Alicent observed the change in her son's demeanor, pleased that Olira had managed to capture his attention and steer their conversation in a more enjoyable direction.

As they continued their walk, Aegon and Olira discussed their favorite wines, their experiences at various feasts and celebrations, and their shared desire for moments of respite from the demands of their noble birthright.

Olira had achieved her goal of establishing a connection with Aegon, recognizing that they shared a common interest that went beyond the political union their families had arranged. It was a small victory, but one that held promise for their future together, despite the challenges that lay ahead.

As Aegon and Olira continued to discuss their shared interest in wine, the atmosphere between them lightened, and for a brief moment, it seemed they might find common ground. However, Aegon, known for his brash and sometimes thoughtless remarks, made a comment that shattered the fragile connection they had been building.

With a chuckle, he leaned in closer to Olira and said, "You know, Lady Olira, I've always found the intricacies of wine to be similar to women. Each one has its own unique flavor, and sometimes it's best to savor them all before settling for just one."

Olira's face froze, her smile vanishing. Aegon's comment had not only offended her as a lady but had also revealed his casual and somewhat disrespectful attitude towards women. The disappointment and hurt simmered beneath her stoic expression, but she knew better than to engage in an argument.

"I see," she replied, her voice cool and composed. "Well, Your Grace, I believe I've had my fill of wine and this conversation for today. Please excuse me."

With a polite nod to Aegon and a curtsey to Queen Alicent, Olira turned and gracefully retreated from the garden. Her composure remained intact, but inside, she was seething with indignation and disappointment. She had hoped for a connection, but Aegon's remark had shattered any goodwill she had felt.

As Olira made her way back to her chambers, she couldn't help but wonder how she would navigate this new challenge in her role as Aegon's betrothed. The road to understanding and acceptance seemed longer and more arduous than she had anticipated.

The night Olira changed into her sleep wear before shooing away her handmaidens. The all left her without a word thinking she was going to sleep. She took a deep breath trying to summon as much courage as she could before walking over to the door opening it to show her sword guard, a man she did not know given to her by the king.

"Ser if you will, can you bring me a cup of water, I seem to have already drank that was left in the chamber" The guard turned to look at her. She let out a fake squeal an d hid behind the door.

"Ser please, I am underdressed, just bring me the water and place it inside by the door without looking, I am betrothed to the prince and wish not to tarnish my reputation" She faked a distressed voice, she had mastered the art of voice manipulation ever since she was a young girl. She used it to freak her sisters into thinking she was crying or get them in trouble by using it on their father to get what she wanted.

"Yes of course, my lady" He nodded before scurrying away. Olira smirked before slipping out of her room. She walked as lightly as possible on her feet down the corridors. She had been here before once and somehow still remembered some of the corridors that led to the royal family wing.

She hid behind the corner to see who was there. There was only one guard standing in front of Aegon's bedroom door. She smirked seeing that she needed only to distract him. She looked around her and found a small rock, big enough to fit in her palm, perfect. She scurried behind a huge statue of what looked like The Mother before throwing the rock to the other side of the corridor.

"Who goes there?" Seconds later came the sound of heavy feet walking over. Olira held her breath watching through the small hole between the arm and body of the statue. The guard walked over looking around in search of the intruder. He walked further and further down the corridor with his hand on the hilt of the sword.

Olira moved from behind the statue once he passed her and moved as quickly and quietly as possible. She felt pride fill her when she reached the door and no one stopped her. She opened it and threw herself in before closing it. Aegon was sat on his bed, his back against the headboard, naked as the day he was born. His eyes widened when he saw her, she stood with her back against the door, panting lightly.

"What in the seven hells...?" He pulled one of the pillows to hide his lower region. Olira was actually shocked he had the decency.

"Surprised to see me?" She smirked, cocking an eyebrow up at him. Aegon scoffed rolling his eyes at her.

"Well no shit, what do you want? Where is my guard?" He asked. He moved to stand up with the pillow tightly clutched in his hands to cover his lower parts.

"Well your guard may have gone on a small walk, he will be back soon" She shrugged her shoulders. She moved to walk closer to him slowly. Her lips high in a smirk that sent shiver down aegon's back.

"What do you want?" Aegon asked. He frowned when she moved even closer to him until they were almost chest to chest with one another.

"I want to punish you, my bad prince" She answered simply. Aegon huffed and moved to push her with one hand but she used both to push him first making him fall back onto his bed.

"Punish me? How dare you, I am the prin..." Aegon's words froze in his mouth when she kneeled down to her knees.

"You've been mean to me, my prince" She wrapped her hands around the edges of the pillow, slowly pulling it away. Aegon tried to resist but her words sent a shock of pleasure straight down to his cock.

"I do not know of what you speak" He tried to justify himself. She smirked shaking her head while clicking her tongue. The pillow now was fully away and seated on the bed.

Olira's eys moved down from his face to look at his chest then torso and lasly his hard cock, standing proud and ready to be pleasured. Aegon's breath got caught in his throat when she reached up and grabbed him at the base.

"I wish to show you the benefit of marrying me, my prince" Olira started moving her hand up and down slowly, teasingly.

"Go on then" Aegon smirked. He looked down watching her face as she slowly moved her hand up and down his shaft. He can see that she did not have much if any experience.

He placed his hand on top of her own and started guiding her. His heart soared at the feeling of her soft hands on his member. She watched the movement with caution, trying to learn. Poor thing came to seduce him ony for her to lose control without even noticing.

"Dirty girl, you came here to fuck your prince?" Aegon teased her. Her head snapped up so fast he feared she may have given herself a whiplash.

"I do not wish to fuck my prince, I simply want to show him reason" She answered. She retrieved her hand but he kapt a hold on it making sure she does not run away.

"But what if your prince wishes to fuck you?" He asked, his grip tightening on her hand. He slowly began pulling it up, watching as her eyes widened in almost fear.

"Then I advice him to go find a whore, for I am not one" She responded harshly. She tried to pull away, successfully and made her way to the door.

Aegon was quick on his feet, placing his hand on the door before she could open in and held it in place. She gasped shocked and turned to face him confused.

"Your prince shall not force you, dirty girl, but he wishes for the same luxury" Aegon placed his other hand on the door trapping her between his naked body and the door.

"What ever do you mean?" She murmured, he was so close, his nose touched her own and her eyes were fighting not to close. His body heat was engulfing her along with his smell, he smelled like flowers and wine. She had heard he rarely bathed meaning his mother had forced him to bathe before they took their walk together.

"You wanted to show me the benifit of our marriage, I want to do the same" Aegon answered. he leaned his forehead on her own, nuzzling his nose with her own sensing the way she shuddered at his touch.

"What is it you w-wish to show me" She sighed. He leaned down almost like he wanted to kiss her only to dodge her lips and move down to his knees, fully naked and against the door.

"What are you doing?" She whimpered. He pushed up her skirts making her squeal in surprise.

"If you wish for us not to be caught, you should stay quiet" Aegon delivered a slap to her exposed thigh. Olira slapped a hand to her mouth and waited.

Aegon moved her small cloth to the side exposing her cunt fully to him. He smirked seeing her so wet, she probably did not even know why she was wet, women in her station were usually taught that only the man found pleasure and to lay back and take it while the man enjoys himself.

"Aegon" Her whispered was muffled by her hand when he blew lightly on her cunt.

Aegon ignored her and dived right in without a second thought. Letting a moan at the mere taste of her lower lips. Olira felt her knees growing weak at the feel of him.

Aegon pushed his tongue inside of her knowing it will not hurt her nor will it take her virtue away. His hands wrapped tightly at her calfs. One slid up and up slowly to hold her thigh making sure it stayed open. He gripped the flesh so hard it will surely bruise soon.

Olira tried her best to hide the moans tryin to escape her lips, it was harder than she thought it to be. Her hand that was attempting to open the door snapped down to grab the bright locks of Aegon, who shook his head from side to side nudging her numb with his nose with each shake.

Aegon hummed at the taste of her arousal increasing with each swipe of his tongue. He pulled back from her cunt and moved one of his hands, he held his thumb out and ran it over her pearl. Olira's legs began to shake as he swiped over it with his thumb over and over again.

"Such a dirty girl, growing wetter with each touch as if you expected it" Aegon smirked watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. She shook her head trying to deny his words but being unable to even speak. She felt so much pleasure and pressure.

Aegon used his other hand to raise one of her legs and rest it upon his shoulder before diving right back it. Tongue swiping over her slit before sinking inside of her. Olira's head fell back against the door with a loud bang.

"Are you alright, your grace?" The guard outside asked, he must have returned during the ordeal.

Aegon removed his mouth from Olira's cunt debating if he should answer but his thumb did not cease it's movement. He decided that he was feeling merciful for her and responded "Alright, just banged my foot"

Olira's whole body tensed feeling a strong pressure in her lower region. Her hand in his hair pushed him closer to her cunt. Aegon obeyed sensing her shakiness increasing faster than normal. His eyes watched her with his tongue deep inside of her, he moved his tongue with as much speed as he could go.

Olira had to fight a shout when the most intense wave of pleasure hit her. She had never felt something like this before in her life. Aegon chuckled when she began sinking down against the door. He pushed her leg off his shoulder so she wouldn't hurt herself. Instead he pulled away and moved to stand up.

"That w-was ... what are you doing mff.." Olira looked up at Aegon about to praise whatever he had done only for him to place a hand over her mouth.

"I am not done, dirty girl, open your mouth" He ordered. She obeyed opening her mouth slightly not know what he wanted.

Aegon chuckled shaking his head but gave her the benefit of the doubt. Not noticing he had grabbed the bace of his cock too busy looking over his face, the way his eyes lit up when meeting hers. She gasped in shock when he placed the tip of his cock on her lips.

"Open up, dirty girl" Aegon tapped her lips with his cock. Olira opened her mouth enough for him to begin pushing his cock inside of her mouth. Aegon deciding to be gentle moved his cock inside slowly until the hair on the top touched her nose. She pushed him off coughing and chocking much to his amusement.

"I said open up" Aegon delivered a small yet firm tap, almost a slap, to her cheek. She gasped but obeyed his order. He pushed his cock inside of her mouth again massaging her head to comfort her while his own head fell back with a loud groan.

"Now suck, dirty girl"

The unexpected change in Aegon's attitude did not go unnoticed in the Red Keep. The court was abuzz with whispers and speculations about the prince's sudden transformation. He had gone from being openly opposed to his betrothal to Olira Baratheon to becoming positively smitten with her.

Alicent Hightower, Queen of Westeros, observed her son's transformation with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. She had orchestrated this betrothal for the sake of political unity and stability, but seeing Aegon genuinely taken with Olira was a pleasant surprise.

Aegon's courtship of Olira was a marked departure from his usual pursuits of wine and women. He showered her with attention, gifting her flowers of various colors and varieties, each bouquet more exquisite than the last. He composed heartfelt letters, seeking her company at every opportunity, and displayed an uncharacteristic tenderness when they were together.

Olira, who had initially been taken aback by Aegon's earlier behavior, found herself touched by his gestures and drawn to his newfound gentleness. She realized that beneath his brash exterior, there was a man capable of genuine affection and kindness.

As the wedding date drew nearer, Aegon's enthusiasm for the union only grew. The court could hardly believe the transformation in the young prince, who was now eagerly anticipating his marriage to Olira. Some whispered that love had blossomed between them, while others attributed it to Olira's charm and influence.

The queen herself was pleased with the turn of events. Aegon's affection for Olira had brought a sense of unity and harmony to the court, and she had no doubt that their union would strengthen the bonds between House Targaryen and House Baratheon.

And so, as the day of their wedding approached, Aegon and Olira stood on the precipice of a new chapter in their lives. The young prince, once opposed to the match, was now eager to become the husband of the woman who had captured his heart. Their love, unexpected as it may have been, had the potential to shape the future of Westeros in ways no one could have foreseen.

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daemontargaryenwhore · 1 month

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Another character who spoiled the whole show, just like joffrey

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 4 months

Text

The Heartbreak of Christmas Eve - Modern! Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Your best friend shows up at your doorstep on Christmas Eve.

Pairing: Modern! Aegon Targaryen x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: profanity, angst, p in v, cockwarming

Word Count: 1.75k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) ALL MY AEGON GIRLIES, THIS IS FOR YOU. he may be a train wreck, but we love him regardless. enjoy ;)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

The sound of knocking at your front door was not one you’ve been expecting this evening. You had plans to celebrate Christmas Eve and Christmas on your own, since your family was travelling this holiday season. Who could it be?

Your questions were answered when you saw a dishevelled looking Aegon at the door, a sheepish expression on his weary face, a night bag in his hands. “I…I didn’t know where else to go…”

Looking at him from head to toe, taking in his pitiful state, you sighed, opening the door a bit wider to let your best friend in. “Come on in.”

You ventured to the kitchen to make Aegon a mug of tea after locking the door, just in case he was drunk again. Walking over to the couch where Aegon had made himself comfortable on, you handed him the mug. “Here.”

Aegon took it with a grateful, watery smile. “Thanks. You’re the best.” You tried not to let the words get to you. To him, it had always never meant nothing, a natural reflex in his charismatic nature, but to you, it always meant everything. It was a stupid thing, having a crush on your gorgeous, smoking hot best friend, who was the dictionary definition of the word ‘playboy’.

Just then, you heard a sniffle, and you realised with concern that his eyes were red. “Hey, everything okay?” You asked softly.

Aegon sniffled again, looking like a lost child as he hunched over his mug of tea. “Jenna broke up with me.”

Jenna had been Aegon’s latest in a series of girlfriends, and the longest lasting one at that. They had been dating for eight months now, and Aegon had really cared for her, much to your heartache. But you accepted it, as you always have, burying your feelings under the sand yet again.

“I’m really sorry, pal,” you moved into give Aegon a hug, which he melted into. Soon, you could hear sobs eliciting from his throat, as he lamented, “Why does everyone I love always end up leaving me? Am I that loathsome?”

No; you’re not, you wanted to tell him. You wanted him to know that for the longest time, you’ve loved him, much more than as a friend, and that you would never leave him, no matter what. But you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, knowing that he would never feel the same. And even if he did, he could never give you the stable, long term relationship that you wanted.

So you only patted his back softly, and comforted him as best as you could. “You’re not loathsome, Aegon. You’re my best friend.” And I love you. “I would always be by your side, no matter what.”

“You really mean it?” Your heart broke at Aegon’s small voice, and you pulled him into a tighter embrace. “Of course. Best friends forever, remember?”

There was a silence, and you thought Aegon hadn’t heard you, but he only let out a noisy sniffle and said lowly, “Yeah…best friends forever.”

The two of you held each other for a while, hearing the snow fall outside your window as you comforted the love of your life over his heartbreak, while your heart was breaking on the inside.

Because your apartment was small, it only had one bedroom, so Aegon had to crash with you in your bed. It was your usual arrangement, but tonight, Aegon just couldn’t sleep.

Shifting uncomfortably on the left side of the bed, Aegon turned to face you, wanting to talk to you, to do anything, but you had your back turned to him. Unbeknownst to your best friend, you were fighting your own demons, trying to console yourself for being upset over this. It was his fifth girlfriend already, and you had had to comfort him over so many things ever since you were kids, so why did this bother you so much?

Because you’re hopelessly in love with him, that’s what.

You let out a quiet huff of frustration, but the sudden weight of a warm hand across your waist made you tense up. Aegon had always been feely in his sleep, but this was not helping any of your thoughts right now.

“Aegon…?” You asked in a quiet voice, careful not to wake him if he was asleep. But then, you felt a hardness press between your asscheeks, and you stiffened. He was most definitely not asleep.

“Aegon-“ “Shh,” Aegon’s low rumble that always made your knees weak sliced through the air. You could feel his breath on your neck, as he nestled his head on your shoulder. “I just need to feel…something. Please.”

You swallowed, feeling humiliation creep up your cheeks, staining it red. “Are you serious?” Your voice was not quite your own, scratchy and fragile. You were tearing up. “Aegon, for years, I’ve stood by, being your best friend, caring for you, wanting you, loving you, never wanting for anything more because I fucking loved you, but this is how you treat me? As some rebound fuck to get over your ex?” Your voice was laced with hurt venom. “I can’t believe you.”

Aegon felt every single muscle in his body freeze as your words registered in his mind. You loved him. For so many years now.

Tears were streaming down your face by now, and you wanted to push Aegon away, but you were just so tired. So upset. You flinched when he wrapped his arm around your waist tighter. “Hey,” he said softly into your ear, making goosebumps rise up on your flesh. “Look at me.”

When you refused to turn around, Aegon sighed. He deserved as much, he supposed. “Hey, listen,” Aegon began tentatively. “I know I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole right now, and I probably will earn your eternal enmity after this, but…I love you.”

Shocked, you turned your head back slightly to face him, breath hitching as you felt his hot breath on your bare skin. “…you’re joking.”

Aegon smiled sadly, shaking his head. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. I know I’m the biggest fucking idiot ever for this, but I always buried my feelings and kept it a secret, because…” he hesitated. “Because I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “If only I knew you had always felt this way, I would’ve said something. Why do I always ruin everything?”

A heavy silence enveloped the room, and Aegon felt his heart break as he heard you sniffle. You were crying because of him. Gods, he was just the biggest douche out there, wasn’t he?

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, stroking your hair gently, not knowing what else to do to comfort you. “I’m so sorry, love.”

Finally, you turned around, your cheeks stained with tears that were visible even in the dark. Aegon swallowed, feeling awful. He had probably just ruined your Christmas and your year. “Y/N-“

He was cut off by the press of your lips on his. Your lips were warm against him, soft and inviting and tasting of gingerbread, and Aegon, despite his initial shock, found himself returning the kiss, letting out a few grunts as his hands found your waist again. The both of you continued making out for a while, while Aegon continued wiping the tears from your eyes. He wanted you so badly. Gods, he always wanted you.

His hands slowly wandered down to your breasts, groping them, squeezing them gently, all while he continued kissing you. You moaned into his mouth as he did, making the bulge in his pants grow undeniably harder. Your hand went down to stoke his cock over his sweatpants, and he hissed into your mouth, making you smile slightly against his lips.

Gradually, your pants fell off, and Aegon’s did too, and you gasped as you felt him stretching out your pussy. You had wanted this for so long, and now you were finally experiencing it. It was still quite unbelievable.

Aegon groaned as he bottomed out in you, his grip on your waist tightening. You made to move your hips, but Aegon stilled your movements, whispering huskily into your ear. “Let’s just stay like this. I want to wake up like this, with you around me.”

A small shiver went through you at those words, and you nodded mutely, letting out a soft yawn. Aegon chuckled, brushing your hair away from your forehead and kissing you on the lips. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Aegon. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

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emilykaldwen · 21 days

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy - Year 126 AC

“What don’t you understand?” he asked and his fingers slowly loosened from her hair and pet her curls back into place before drawing his fingers slowly down her jaw and along her hammering pulse in her throat. “Do you not understand how badly I crave you? Because I thought that I made it abundantly clear.” The wicked smirk she adored cut across his plump mouth and he squeezed her throat gently, pulling a gasp from her. “Abrogail Strong, I desire and crave you to madness and if I let myself go, I fear that I won’t keep myself from devouring you whole.”

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 6 months

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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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