Chapter Text
A month of marriage and Aegon had grown accustomed to his husband's habits. Jacaerys woke slowly, and with great reluctance, every morning. On their even days Aegon had taken to kissing him awake, to avoid the grumbling and the grouching all together.
On odd days though, Aegon left him to his little fits. It was only fair, considering Jacaerys still kicked him out of bed when they finished. The only time Aegon got to actually sleep with his husband was when they napped between bouts.
Not that he cared, of course. Their relationship was purely physical. A coiling between dragons, born of necessity, not love. They kept one another warm, husbands, trapped in a marriage with one another, but they were not bonded mates. No one would be comparing Sunfyre and Vermax to Silverwing and Vermithor.
Though, Vermax and Vermithor did share a certain temperment, and a particular... look, in the maw at least. When she flew in the moonlight, Silverwing's graceful silhouette could occassionally be mistaken for Sunfyre too.
Her beauty lacked the glimmer that came so naturally to his Sunfyre, of course. Golden scales glittering in the faintest of lights, the pink of his wings practically glowing. Especially on their morning flights, when his dragon skimmed across the Blackwater at dawn and Aegon watched the world wake around him.
Sunfyre was the living embodiement of a sunrise. A joyous beginning. A bright future. Just seeing him brought Aegon peace, comfort, even before they took to the sky together.
Few things in the world could ever hope to compare.
"Beautiful..." Aegon mumbled to himself, fingers grazing lightly over the sharp jawline of his husband. A hum and a quiet gasp slipped from Jacaerys as the man turned into the touch.
Aegon was careful not to wake him. His own limbs heavy with exhaustion. He did not want to trudge down the hall to his room, and Jacaerys had wrung more orgasms from him than Aegon thought himself capable.
Somewhere on the Street of Silk a particularly annoying brothel owner was surely laughing at him. His stamina, his libido. Aegon had gladly accepted the accusations of hedonism his brother levied at him over the years. Often times while dragging another whore onto his lap for a second or third bout.
But he would much prefer to watch Jacaerys sleep beside him, in this instance. To watch his husband's chest rise and fall. Lips bruised from their desperate kissing parting in even breaths. Occassionally mumbling.
Even asleep, Jacaerys did not rest. Lashes fluttering, body tossing and turning. The Prince of Dragonstone a truly restless sleeper.
The wrinkles on his brows smoothed out though, when Aegon's fingers brushed across his skin. Jacaerys mewled. Aegon smiled to himself. Soft and small as Jacaerys turned onto his side, curling closer.
"Sleep a bit more," Aegon whispered, kissing at his husband's forehead. He combed fingers through messy curls. Jacaerys sighed and a hand reached for him, an arm dropping over Aegon's side.
Perhaps Jacaerys would sleep through the night and finally let Aegon wake with him. The latest even day had come and gone. Afternoon giving way to evening. Through the windows, light began to fade as the sun sank over the bay.
"You need to rest more," Aegon hummed, eyes closing as he drew Jacaerys closer. His husband cuddled to his chest. A quiet purr echoed in the silence as Aegon pet at the man's dark hair, brushing it away from his face.
Lips brushed over his chest and Aegon stamped down on his desire to capture the soft flesh between his teeth. Jacaerys would most definitely wake, if Aegon kissed him properly. Not an entirely unwelcome idea, as Aegon would happily entice his husband into another round of fucking.
But then Jacaerys would send him away. Send him back to his own room, with the empty bed and the cold hearth.
"Egg?" Jacaerys mumbled, nuzzling at his collarbone. Aegon shushed him. He ran his fingers lightly over the man's back, his arms. Jacaerys settled. A smile tugging at plump lips.
A kiss would please him, yes, but it would not satisify. Not in the long run.
He wanted more. Loathe as he was to admit it, Aegon found himself caring for the man in his arms. The proper prince who fretted about all the proper things.
Grain output, the nutrients in the soil, squeezing one more growing season in before winter could set in. Dragonstone had a steward, but Jacaerys kept the ravens busy, corresponding with his vassals. The Velaryons, the Celtigars, the Darklyns, every house in the Crownlands who owed Dragonstone allegiance.
Every kingdom had a lord paramount, except the Crownlands, for they had a prince instead. Or a princess, as Rhaenyra had been the one to hold Dragonstone only a few months prior.
Aegon had never held a proper title. Or run so much as a household, let alone a keep or a kingdom. His short play at claiming the crown had been dreadfully boring, as the lords had little regard for his opinion.
By some magic, Rhaenyra could make them listen. She commanded respect. Loyalty. Just as Jacaerys did from those who served him, who followed him.
Even Aegon, it seemed, as the very sight of his husband's harried expressions some nights brought his blood to boil. He wanted to help, to... to ease the worry from Jacaerys' brow.
But he did not know how. Jacaerys welcomed his touch, took pleasure in Aegon's body, but they did not speak of the affairs of state. A usurper could not be privy to important matters.
"Sleep, my prince," Aegon breathed out, wrapping Jacaerys in the only comfort he had to give, holding his husband as the man sunk deeper into sleep.
If this was the only help he would be permitted to provide then Aegon would give it gladly. Quietly, even. Secretly. His touch light and his affection unseen in the dark of Jacaerys' bedchamber as he soothed the overstimulated nerves of his lover.
Aegon savored it, the weight of Jacaerys against him. His husband, sleeping beside him, with him. His own eyelids fell closed, sleep overtaking him. The exhaustion catching up with him.
It all came to a rather abrupt end early the next morning when a knock sounded at the door. Aegon startled awake, gasping as his sister entered the room. She stopped short upon seeing them. Face flushing and lashes fluttering.
"Mother," Jacaerys cleared his throat, shoving Aegon away. He sat up, drawing the sheets tight around his body. A bright flush to his cheeks.
Meanwhile, Aegon was left to stumble, half-asleep still, from the bed. He snatched up a blanket and glared at Jacaerys. His husband blushed, but it was not because of him. Or, at least, not because he felt bad kicking Aegon out of his bed.
"I brought the maester," Rhaenyra cleared her throat and averted her gaze. She chuckled lightly, nervously, "We had discussed having Maester Gerardys check you over for... early signs. I ought to have sent a message ahead of time. You have my apologies for the intrusion."
"No apology necessary," Jacaerys waved her off, "I lost track of time is all." He shot Aegon a look, gaze shifting pointedly towards the door even as he continued to speak to his mother, "You and the maester are more than welcome."
With a huff, Aegon marched from the room. He glared at Rhaenyra as he passed her, jaw clicking as he forced out the required "your grace" on his way. The door closed behind him with a snap and Aegon slammed his own when he entered his bedchamber. His empty bedchamber.
His clothes littered the room. A shirt discarded over a chair, doublets tossed onto the bed. He rarely slept in it. Could not bring himself to sink into the cold sheets after the blazing warmth of his husband's body.
Dropping the blanket around his body, Aegon crossed to the window. He stood naked before the glass. His flaccid cock bare before the rising sun.
A tacky layer coated the flesh. The remnants of his time spent buried in his husband's ass. Jacaerys writhing beneath him, bouncing on top of him.
Just the memory of it had his cock twitching. His skin red and nearly raw from all the fucking, even Aegon couldn't rise again. Not yet.
He ought to bathe, to rest. Prepare himself for the next day, for when Jacaerys next sought him out. When his cock would be required once more.
The only part of him anyone cared for, it seemed. The only bit with a purpose.
Aegon glanced back over his shoulder, at his dark and empty room. All the warmth in these chambers belonged to Jacaerys. The true heir to the throne.
His grandfather barely had half a prayer of making him a king. His mother, Cole. Their only argument for his succession had been the cock dangling between his legs.
First born son of a king. The natural heir.
Over twenty years of grooming Rhaenyra for the role made her a far better candidate. She had experience, loyal bannermen, the love of the smallfolk.
All Aegon had was a cock.
Enough support from a bunch of silly lords who thought he'd stick it in their daughters made him just enough of a threat for Rhaenyra to take him seriously.
The machinations of the dowager queen and the last Hand probably had more to do with it than him. By the end of his father's reign Aegon had found his mother sitting on the throne more often than anyone else.
She'd seemed quite good at it, ruling. Probably better than his father.
Pushing a hand through his hair, Aegon stepped away from the window. A faint roar rose up from the Dragon Pit. He ignored it, just as he did the man who appeared at his door shortly after.
"Would you like assistance, your grace?" his attendent asked. Some little lordling meant to help him dress and bathe and everything else. "I can call for water, or ask the bath be prepared?"
The man's primary purpose was more likely to be reporting back on his movements, keeping Rhaenyra or Jacaerys apprised of any possible schemes or treasons. He didn't know who the man reported to and it didn't matter.
Aegon pretended the man didn't exist regardless. He dragged a fresh shirt and some trousers on over his grimmy skin. He snatched up a doublet at random, shoving his feet into his shoes.
"Your grace?" the man's voice went higher as Aegon blew past him. He hadn't bothered to brush his hair or clean his face.
It hardly mattered. Not where he was going.
"Aegon?" Rhaenys sat in their receiving room. She startled when he entered. Aegon swallowed and narrowed his eyes on her. The riding leathers, her heavy skirts.
"What are you doing here?" Aegon asked, brow furrowing as he considered her presence. The reasons why the Queen Who Never Was would grace King's Landing with her presence. Why she'd make the trip from Driftmark...
She quirked a brow, lips pressing into a firm line, "I brokered this peace. I'm quite invested to see it kept." He flushed. Her eyes flickered over him. "Where are you off to?" Her chin rose. "Part of the agreement-"
"I'm going to see my mother!" Aegon snapped at her. His lips pulled back as he barked, "Or am I to be confined to my room like a prisoner until Jace has need of my cock again?"
Rhaenys reared back. Her face flushed. She stepped towards him. A well-prepared reprimand on her lips Aegon gave her no chance to voice.
The lordling scambled after him, nipping at his heels like some dog. Aegon took great pleasure in slamming the door of his mother's chambers in the man's face.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this dramatic entrance?" his mother drawled from behind him and Aegon's shoulder slumped. He whined, bowing his head to her door.
Alicent Hightower had little patience for men and their supposedly petty complaints. Aegon's chief among them, but when he turned, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling, she opened her arms.
His mother had, at different points in her life, nursed two kings on their deathbeds. Aegon doubted she had any love for either of them, but her loyalty to him, he never questioned.
Fingers combed through his messy hair as he fell into her arms. A child curling against his mother's chest. He hid his tears in the fabric of her dressing gown.
Neither of them said anything. Alicent had no sympathy for his plight, for the tangled web he'd caught himself in.
She'd put him on the throne and he'd given it to Rhaenyra. For that, his mother would never forgive him.
He'd stopped a war, kept his brothers from danger, his little sister safe. But he'd placed himself firmly in Rhaenyra's shadow, in the bed of Rhaenyra's son. Their rivalry had begun with his birth. Aegon capitulating meant she lost.
And Alicent Hightower did not like to lose.
"Sit," Alicent pushed him into a seat at her table when he stopped crying.
Aegon dropped his head into his hands, still sniffling. He waited as she busied herself preparing tea.
A servant was summoned. Plates of fruit and pastries arrived shortly after. He poked at the eggs placed pointedly before him as his mother settled in her own seat.
The silence descended. A defeaning quiet.
He hated quiet. Mornings brought peace. A tranquility, when he watched the sunrise on his dragon's back. Before, he'd often savored his rare moment of solitude on the walk back from some brothel.
Mornings were not naturally quiet.
"How are you faring, in your new accommodations?" Alicent asked, sitting back in her seat. Her gaze leveled on him as she sipped her tea. "You're thinner. Have you been eating?"
"Well enough," Aegon mumbled and he took a bite of the breakfast she'd forced upon him. It all tasted the same. Stale and unappetizing. Cold.
The strips of pork and beef burned his tongue as he forced them down. His mother's eyes narrowed as he swallowed.
"I've been more active is all, flying nearly every day," Aegon told her. At that, she scoffed. Her tea cup clattered against its plate as she snapped it back onto the table.
"Yes," Alicent clicked her tongue, chin rising, "I've heard a great deal about your activities." She inhaled, turning her head to glare at the fire roaring in the hearth. "Rhaenyra's boy must be fat as a cow by now, the way you're carrying on."
Aegon groaned, eyes squeezing shut, "Mother..." She huffed. A smile plastered on her face as she looked back at him.
Leaning forward, Alicent sneered, "Are you happy now? Playing house with your nephew when you could be king?!"
Standing abruptly, Aegon slapped his hands on the table. He inhaled, seething, "Enough, mother!"
"Is it?!" Alicent hissed, never raising her voice, even as she glowered at him, "A month, we've been locked in this castle. Escorted to and from court like some pretty dolls on display to prove our submission." She chuckled, a hollow laugh, "That was more than enough, truly, and yet..."
Hands fisting on the table, Aegon started shaking as she continued. Her voice clipped, words sharp. She aimed them well, his mother, always aware of her opponent's weak spots.
"...it all pales in comparison to the insult of having my firstborn son - the king's firstborn son - reduced to being a stud horse for one of her boys while mine languish in their rooms!"
She stood, finally. Alicent speaking through clenched teeth as she leaned over the table.
"Your brothers cannot so much as look at their dragons," his mother reminded him, "This is your peace, Aegon. You negotiated it. You surrendered rather than fight for what is yours!"
Her arms flew out, another laugh on her lips as she rolled her shoulders back. An exaggerated shrug as she sighed.
"And yet it is the rest of us who now pay the price for your cowardice."
"Cowardice?" Aegon chuckled, head rising to glare at her. His mother met his gaze head on. No hesitation. No fear.
He expected nothing less from a Hightower.
"You encouraged me to speak with her, mother, do you remember?" Aegon drew up to his full height, "It was your idea to explore a peaceful resolution first, rather than strike quickly. Fast."
The moment he'd agreed to negotiate, Aegon had known he'd be giving up the crown. His only chance for beating Rhaenyra would have been surprise.
An attack on Dragonstone, destroying her entire line before any troops could mobilize. Before the dragons could react or their riders fight back.
"You may chafe under the restrictions placed upon you," Aegon drawled, eyes narrowing on her face, "But don't forget you earned them, mother. Heads don't end up on a spike by accident."
She swallowed, hand rising to her throat as she faltered. His mother had ordered several lords put to the sword in the week she hid his father's death. Powerful lords.
Their families still called for justice, even after her executioners had met the same fate as their victims.
"That's rich, coming from you," Aemond entered the room with a scowl. Arms crossed behind his back, Aemond used every bit of his height to look down his nose at Aegon. "You'll have to excuse our complaints, brother, but our chafing isn't quite so pleasurable as yours."
Their mother flushed, hissing at Aemond as he smirked. Aegon glared at the man. His little brother. Taller, broader, more studious and clean.
Everything Alicent wanted Aegon to be and more, his brother. Aemond tried harder than anyone to be perfect.
The perfect Taegaryen prince.
Even now, his brother wore his leather surcoat. His hair neat and oiled as it fell down his back. All his curls straightened with a heated comb to ensure not a single strand strayed from its line.
Ready for battle, even without a sword on his hip. All weapons kept far from his brother's reach. Same as his dragon.
"I suppose only the pretty princes get to service the queen's sons," Aemond taunted him and their mother stepped forward to grab his arm. A sharp look as he stiffened in her grasp.
"Just the ones with both eyes and a big cock," Aegon shot back, sneering as his brother snarled in response.
Alicent raised her voice then, shouting both of their names. Aegon fell silent.
But Aemond never could keep his mouth shut, especially when he ought to. His brother spewed his vile insults without a thought, or a care. Same as ever.
"If you could think with your head instead of your cock, Vhagar would have won you the throne in-"
Aegon laughed, cutting off Aemond with a snort. He stepped forward, gaze hard as he stood nose to nose with his brother, growling, "Vhagar is one dragon, and her rider is a green boy who's never won a fight outside the training yard."
His brother went quiet. The room with him. Their mother stood, half between them, one hand on Aegon's chest and the other squeezing at Aemond's arm as his brother flushed. With anger, not embarrasment.
"You think Vhagar would have won, if Meleys and Caraxes descended on us?" Aegon asked, eyebrows arching high. His voice dripping with derision, "Younger and faster, with experienced dragonriders?"
"We could have tried!" Aemond snapped and their mother flinched as his brother yanked his arm from her grasp.
The hand on his chest curled into a fist, fingers twisting in his shirt. Aegon chuckled, "We'd have died." He quirked his head to the side, "You and me. We wouldn't stand a chance against half a dozen dragons. Not in a fair fight. Not in a true battle."
Ambush would've been the only option. Pick them off one at a time. Each of the other dragons. A devastation Aegon couldn't imagine came without casualties of their own.
"With luck, Daeron might have escaped," Aegon hummed, and he heard a faint inhale from the archway Aemond had stalked through himself.
Their little brother, hiding in the hall. Just as Aegon expected. Hiding from the conflict, as he would have the war.
No matter what the Hightowers believed, what they'd tried, Daeron would not have taken an offensive position as easily as Aemond. Convincing stubborn dragons took time, time they would not have had.
"If he'd fled from Oldtown quick enough, he might've lived," Aegon continued, jaw clenching as he grabbed his brother's face. Aemond's sharp chin cupped in his palm. His jaw clenched, same as Aegon's as he asked, "Who would that leave to save mother? When Rhaenyra descended on King's Landing?"
Alicent's fingers twitched against his chest again. He laughed, just as she had earlier. Hollow and without humor.
With a click of his tongue, Aegon reasoned, "The Hightowers might've been able to negotiate for her return." He quirked his head, humming, "A long shot, at best, but still..."
The muscles beneath his fingers spasmed. Aemond blinked and Aegon continued, driving home his point. This most important one, to both of them.
"But Helaena is a Targaryen."
Lips curling back, teeth bared, Aegon watched his brother pale as the words found their mark. Aegon couldn't find it in him to laugh this time.
His grip tightened. Aemond swallowed. The anger in his chest rising as his brother shivered under his cold stare. Aegon growled, "What happens to our sweet sister, do you think? If we're all dead, little brother, what happens to her?!"
"Dreamfyre is a formidable beast," Aemond ripped away from him. He didn't stumble, even as his chest heaved, as he took a breath.
He couldn't meet Aegon's eyes. His arrogant little brother couldn't lift his head, couldn't argue. Not when Aegon told the truth, when the reality sunk in. The consequences obvious.
Though not obvious enough, apparently.
"They wouldn't hurt her," Alicent insisted, clearing her throat. Her fingers splayed out, hand pushing at his chest even as she reached for his arm again, "Rhaenyra would not harm Helaena."
"No," Aegon agreed. His gaze dropped to his mother's, jaw clicking. Her eyes trembled.
The time for subtly was gone.
"But Jace's cock works just fine," Aegon deadpanned, holding her gaze, "And a Targaryen bride has many uses."
The slap echoed through the room.
It stung. Her disgust, more than his cheek. More than the buzz left behind by her strike. Her face contorted with rage. Her chest heaving as she glared up at him.
But she didn't correct him. Couldn't.
"You can hate me all you want," Aegon whispered, throat bobbing as he exhaled, "But you're only alive to do it because of the deal I made."
"Because of the deal where we rot in here while you fuck your whore husband, you mean," Aemond shot back with a snort.
Something snapped and the rage burned in his veins. Hotter than his dragon's fire.
His brother cried out when Aegon's fist slammed into his face. Their mother shrieked. Daeron rushed in, finally ducking out from his hiding spot to drag Aegon off their brother.
Finally driven to act. Or he tried to, anyway.
His brothers were both stronger than him, yes, dutiful in their training, but Aegon was meaner. A well placed jab on his blind side and a sweep of Aegon's leg had Aemond tumbling to the floor. Daeron joined him with a yelp moments later.
His little brother utterly unprepared for Aegon to tuck his chin and drop his shoulder. Daeron rolled over said shoulder, momentum carrying forward. He crashed on top of Aemond, both grunting as the collision knocked the air from their lungs.
"You're not to speak of him like that," Aegon growled, foot rising to Aemond's throat. His brothers stiffened as Aegon bit out, "He'll be your king one day."
"Aegon-" his mother froze when his gaze snapped to her. His anger.
Daeron managed to scramble up off the floor. Aemond stayed. Unable to move, with Aegon's foot pressing down on his throat.
"Stop," Daeron insisted. He rolled his shoulders back, placing himself between Aegon and Alicent. His brow furrowed, "We're your family, you shouldn-"
"Jace is my husband!" Aegon shouted, silencing him. They both flinched and Aemond inhaled. A sharp intake. His throat bobbing. Lips curling, Aegon turned his attention back to his little brother.
Fire burned in his chest and a distant roar echoed off the Blackwater. Golden flames shot across the morning sky as Aegon's chest heaved.
The door behind him burst open. His mother snapped a command the two queensguards both ignored. She tugged her dressing gown tighter.
"Your grace," Ser Arryk called out. A familiar voice. Rough, but not angry.
Aegon's breath hitched as memories of the man's kindness filtered through his head. Of the years he'd spent in the knight's warm company.
Before, back when he'd been a kingsguard and not a queensguard, when Ser Arryk had been Aegon's protector. The one who dragged him back from brothels and the dragon pit, who picked him up out of his cups and occassionally indulged his whims.
"Your brother, my prince... " Ser Arryk drew closer. A hand ghosted over his arm and Aegon flinched. Aemond choked as his foot spasmed, applying more pressure.
"Aegon?" Helaena's quiet whisper cut through the room, through his anger. "What're you doing?"
Drawing back quickly, Aegon released his brother. He inhaled, stumbling in to Ser Arryk as Aemond did the same. His brother took gasping breaths. He turned on his side, coughing and cursing in equal measure.
While Daeron knelt to help Aemond, Helaena approached him. Aegon's throat bobbed as her soft eyes flickered over him. A pale violet, to match the pale gold in her hair.
"Are you alright, brother?" Helaena asked, reaching for him. Fingers brushed over his cheeks, brushing away tears.
"Is he alright?!" Aemond sputtered, snapping at her, "He tried to kill me!"
With a snort, Aegon dropped his head into his hands. Helaena startled back as he laughed, "If I was trying to kill you, you'd be dead, you fucking cunt."
Aegon whirled around, scrubbing at his face as he headed for the door. His sister called after him, but not his mother. Not his brothers.
"Maybe I'll stop saving your life now though," Aegon huffed, leveling a glare over his shoulder, "Since no one seems to appreciate my efforts anyway."
He slammed the door behind him as he left and took a slow breath. Inhaling deeply.
The lordling remained. Pale faced with an owlish expression as he waited, standing at the wall opposite. Aegon sighed.
"You, uh, you're in quite a state, your grace," his attendent cleared his throat. The man straightened, offering a weak smile, "Are you certain I can't tempt you with a bath?"
A proper bath sounded rather good in that moment actually. Divine even.
Aegon would rather march back into his mother's chambers than admit such a thing though. The lordling might think Aegon had started listening to him.
Behind him, the door opened. Aegon tilted his head back to glare at the ceiling as the queensguards took up their positions again.
Or, one of them did.
A hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, "My prince?"
Ser Arryk tried to steer him further into the hallway, away from the door. Away from his mother's chambers.
Aegon shrugged his hand off, rolling his shoulders back, "I'm perfectly fine, ser." His nose wrinkled, "My brother never met a day he didn't try to ruin."
"As you say, your grace," Ser Arryk pursed his lips. Waiting.
The man did not back away. He didn't return to his station. His duty.
Ser Arryk stayed. A solid and unmoving presence right at Aegon's back.
Just as he always had been.
Tears prickled at his eyes, clinging to his lashes as he took stuttering breaths. Steadying, even as he swayed on his feet.
"I don't know where to go..." Aegon whispered, ducking his head. He glanced over his shoulder. Vision swimming as he tried, and failed, to blink the tears away.
"Do you wish to return to your bed?" Ser Arryk asked and Aegon swiftly shook his head, nose wrinkling as he thought of his room. Cold and empty.
Even his mother would be more welcome.
"Sunfyre then?" Ser Arryk arched a brow. A smile flickered at his lips and the knight mirrored it. "We could escort you to the dragon pit, your grace."
The 'we' stopped him. Aegon frowned. His head rose, gaze returning to the lordling. His personal shadow.
Whatever report he gave to Rhaenyra would likely be quite the thing. More so, if Aegon relegated himself to crying in front of the man, sobbing against his dragon's golden scales.
Sunfyre would fret too, would worry.
"I don't feel like like flying," Aegon mumbled instead, and he took his first step down the hall.
Ser Arryk startled, the lordling too.
Aegon sniffled and scrubbed a hand down his face. The queensguard frowned as Aegon chuckled, waving away the man's offered arm, his support.
"I'll just go back to my husband's chambers," Aegon told him, smile tight, "I'm only unwanted half the time there."
Ser Arryk blinked at his words, the crack in his voice. The knight pursed his lips and swallowed. "As you say, your grace," came out much quieter this time and he followed half a step behind as Aegon dragged himself back towards his prison.
He let his feet guide him without thought through several empty coridors and up more than one flight of stairs. It was only when the fretting lordling at his back whined that Aegon realized he'd taken them in the opposite direction as the chambers he shared with Jacaerys.
"What are we doing up here, my prince?" the lordling huffed, panting as they came to the top of the highest tower in the Red Keep. Aegon ignored him, as he always did.
They walked through an open doorway and onto a large balcony open to the air. Before him stretched the wide expanse of the Blackwater. A breeze blew in from the bay and Aegon sighed, head falling back as the wind brushed through his messy hair.
Two guards stood sentry, eyes trained on the horizon. Aegon dismissed them with a quick order, "Leave. I want to be alone."
Neither moved, though they did turn their heads, gaze flicking over Aegon. His rumpled clothes and unbrushed hair. Far from regal, certainly not princely.
"Our prince requires a moment," Ser Arryk cleared his throat and stepped forward. The guards straightened. "I'll keep your watch," his knight assured them, beckoning them away from the railing as Aegon moved to lean against it, "You may keep mine, just outside the door."
He didn't have to ask for them to close the door. Ser Arryk took care of that too, and his surprisingly stubborn attendant.
"I'm meant to attend the prince, ser!" the lordling huffed as Ser Arryk physically shoved him from the room. He banged on the door a few times, but neither Aegon nor Ser Arryk paid him any mind.
A quick glance over his shoulder proved the entire balcony empty, except for them. Ser Arryk took his own sentry duty directly in the center of the now closed doors. They wouldn't open, not with him there.
The closest he could get to privacy, to being alone. Aegon looked back out at the bay and the horizon blurred. His tears fell quickly then, silently. A prince learns such tricks very young if he wants to survive.
"Do you think it was worth it?" Aegon called out to his childhood protector, voice cracking, "Ser Criston is dead. My mother will never forgive me. My brothers hate me. My..."
He trailed off. The words catching in his throat as his thought of his husband, of being kicked out of bed that morning. Jacaerys married him, would have a child with him, but being caught sleeping in each other's arms? That was a step too far for him it seemed. Too shameful.
Aegon turned from the Blackwater to find Ser Arryk blinking at him, expression owlish. "Everyone hates me," Aegon finished, sinking to the ground. He blew out a shuddering breath, "A traitor, no matter who tells the story."
"It takes time to mend things, once they've been broken," Ser Arryk told him. He spoke slowly. His words so soft the wind nearly stole them. "Trust especially."
"Did anyone ever actually trust me to begin with?" Aegon snorted. He pushed a hand through his hair and leaned back against the railing. If he tilted his head just right, he could see the sky.
A flicker of gold in his periphery had him searching for Sunfyre. The dragon circling the castle was Syrax though. Pale yellow wings spread wide as she glided through the air.
"They made me a king so I could be their pawn," Aegon mumbled, tracking Syrax through the sky. He blew out a slow breath.
Ser Criston spent a week convincing him Rhaenyra would kill his brothers if he didn't take the crown. He still couldn't convince himself the man had been entirely wrong.
"Whether I accepted it or not, Rhaenyra would have needed to respond with force," Aegon said, talking more to himself than Ser Arryk. "I did the right thing, didn't I?" His voice hitched as a sob slipped from his lips. "I saved us."
He said it again and again, repeating it like a mantra as he curled into a ball.
Ser Arryk let him cry, let him claw at his hair and sob into his knees. What else could his kingsguard do for him? Especially now, when he'd become a queensguard.
Less than half an hour passed before the door was pulled open again. Ser Arryk's hand dropped to his sword, and then his head immediately bowed as he caught sight of the queen.
Scrubbing at his face, Aegon avoided his sister's gaze as he wiped his tears away.
"I suppose now I know who the lordling belongs too for sure," Aegon cleared his throat and rose to his feet when she approached him.
Rhaenyra said nothing as she surveyed him. Aegon ducked his head, pretending to bow rather than meeting her judgement. He'd dealt with far too much of that today already.
In truth, his head had started to swim. The tears giving way to a pounding ache behind his eyes. One that he'd normally fix with a cup of wine.
"Could've been Jace, of course," Aegon continued, chuckling softly, "But he's not so subtle as you." He pushed a hand up into his, rubbing absently at his neck.
Not that it helped. His own touch had never soothed him. With a huff, he dropped his hands to the railing, fingers scraping against the stone.
"Does he report on all my movements?" Aegon asked, still ducking his head, letting it lull forward so his gaze remained fixed on the floor. "Make sure I don't go off to brothels or try to steal your throne again?"
"No," Rhaenyra finally spoke. Her hand cupped his chin and he startled as she forced his head up. Their eyes met.
She narrowed her eyes on his face. Aegon flushed beneath her close inspection.
"His primary purpose is to exist in your chambers, nothing more," Rhaenyra told him, head quirking to the side, "I sent him to you after bruises started appearing on my son."
"I wouldn't hurt Jace," Aegon insisted, eyes wide. Her hand shifted to cup his face properly and he bit back a whimler when her knuckles grazed his jaw.
Rhaenyra clicked her tongue and dropped her hand, "Yes, I'm realizing that." She stepped around him, leaning over the railing. She exhaled slowly, almost laughing.
It was stupid of her. Risky even. All he had to do was shove her and she'd plunge to her death. Neither of the queensguards stationed at the door could save her if he tried. Both Cargyll twins too far away to react quickly enough.
He turned instead. His fingers still pushing against the stone as they settled into a soft silence. The wind alone whistled. A faint breezing curling around them.
"This is where our father told me of my betrothal," Rhaenyra hummed, glancing around at the balcony with a sad smile.
"Hmm, he must have liked this spot as he did the same for mine," Aegon said. Her head snapped around and he rolled his shoulders back.
Her eyes boring into the side of his face. The soft cadence of Rhaenyra's voice dipped low when she asked, "Yours?"
Aegon shifted, head bobbing in a nod, "I was meant to marry Helaena." He traced a small crack in the stone. "Years ago."
"You didn't marry her." It sounded more like an accusation than a statement.
"No." Aegon shrugged. His throat bobbed as she started to ask another question, her words clipped and angry.
"How did-"
He didn't give her a chance to finish. "I told him I wasn't good enough for her."
At that, Rhaenyra fell silent. Aegon chuckled, his laughter wet and stuttering.
"Obviously, he agreed," Aegon scrubbed at his face and groaned at finding the tears had started anew. "He didn't really like me much," Aegon huffed out, "I guess I just have that effect on people."
A hand rose up and Rhaenyra squeezed at his arm. He shrugged her off, wrapping his arms around himself.
The chirp of a dragon drew his gaze back up to the Blackwater. Sunfyre wove through the sky, following after Syrax, fluttering his wings as he bobbed behind her. Rhaenyra followed his gaze.
"I know I'm not what Jace deserves either," Aegon admitted, frowning as his dragon trailed along in the wake of his sister's. Two golden dragons sailing through the clouds.
"The two of you seem well matched though," Rhaenyra insisted, reaching out for him again. Her hand settled on his back this time, rubbing soft circles over tense muscles, "He likes you."
Aegon snorted, hunching inward. He didn't have the strength to shrug her off again. Not when the warmth of her palm sunk into his body. He shivered.
"Usually," Aegon drawled, turning his head to glance her way, "People who like you, don't kick you out of their bed."
Their eyes met again and she grimaced. A faint flush rising on her cheeks as she turned back to their dragons. Aegon sighed, eyes squeezing shut.
"Can I ask you a favor?" Aegon whispered, throat bobbing as he forced the words out.
The hand on his back stilled and Rhaenyra arched a brow, "A favor?"
He took a breath and held her gaze, "Helaena is no danger to you." She blinked. "I understand why my brothers don't get to see their dragons." The hand dropped away and his fisted at his side. "But if Helaena could at least visit Dreamfyre-"
"You- you're asking for Helaena to visit the dragon pit?" Rhaenyra stopped him, her eyes wide as she just stared at him. He nodded, swallowing thickly.
"Dreamfyre's possessive, we all know that," Aegon began to argue his point, his voice rising, "It's only a matter of time before she loses her patience." He waved vaguely towards their own dragons, "You wouldn't even need to unchain her or let Helaena fly, just... just visits, at least."
He couldn't help his brothers anymore than he had. Part of him didn't even want to try, wanted them to chafe under their restrictions as he did his.
But his sister... His sweet, little sister and her quiet fretting. She'd urged him to seek peace, the same as their mother. Her smile sad as they looked af one another across the table.
His mother had thought offering Rhaenyra Dragonstone would be enough, but Helaena... Helaena'd squeezed his hand before he left.
"I don't care who I marry, so long as I have Dreamfyre to protect me."
She'd known what they'd offer, what he should have agreed to, when they offered the obvious. Aegon had merely swapped their places, when he agreed to marry Jace.
"Helaena doesn't deserve to suffer for my mistakes," Aegon said, biting at his bottom lip. He blinked back his tears and begged, "Please?"
Rhaenyra gaped at him. Her head shaking as she clearing her throat, "Well, the dragonkeepers have mentioned Dreamfyre getting antsy..." She flashed him a tight smile, "I'll speak with Helaena."
It wasn't a promise. She'd agreed to nothing. But it was something. A chance.
A chance that one of his siblings might get to be happy. Might forgive him.
Aegon slumped against the railing, nearly crumpling back to the ground. He sniffled and focused back on their dragons.
"Thank you," he mumbled, clinging to the stone. His vision remained blurry. His tears obscuring the details of the dragons dancing around one another.
The yellow and gold blurred together. Syrax and Sunfyre. He couldn't tell them apart, couldn't make out the details that differentiated her beast from his.
Did it really matter though? Sunfyre only existed because of Syrax after all. The dam who delivered the egg he hatched from. Same Vermax, and Arrax. Tyraxes.
Half the dragons living had come from a small yellow dragon with picky taste.
The same could be said for the Targaryens too. Rhaenyra'd birthed five sons. She mothered Laena Velaryon's dragon twins.
He only needed one. One child. One heir.
With a groan, Aegon wrapped his arms around his head. A hand settled on his back again. A light touch. Warm.
"Is Dreamfyre the only thing you'd like to ask me about, little brother?" Rhaenyra whispered. She stood tall beside him. Every bit the regal queen in her fine clothes and the jewels woven into her braids.
Clawing both hands through his own messy hair, Aegon hiccuped, "Do you really think Jace likes me?" She pursed her lips. "Nevermind," Aegon ducked his head, arms crossing as he huddled in on himself, "I don't wanna know."
It was a silly question. Stupid. He knew the answer. The truth.
"Perhaps you should go ask him instead," Rhaenyra suggested, squeezing at his shoulder again, "He could use the company, I think."
Doubtful, but his feet carried him out the door regardless. His queen had given him an order after all.
If he had to be miserable, at least he could be miserable and annoy his husband with his presence. It was only fair.