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Chapter Text

fifteenth day of the third moon of the eighty-fourth year following aegon’s conquest

“princess alyssa’s labors started early in the morning and did not concluded until the hour of the wolf, when she gave birth to her third child. the labor was long and arduous, and she emerged weak. the boy is pale-haired and lilac-eyed, much like his mother. prince baelon and princess alyssa have named the boy aegon, after the conqueror. princess alyssa says she wishes to give the prince an ‘army of his own’ of sons. however, i worry for her health. the birth has left her weak. i have ordered her bed rest and tonics for the foreseeable future, and have given her milk of the poppy to aid in her resting.” [grand maester elysar]

sixteenth day of the third moon of the eighty-fourth year after aegon’s conquest

“princess alyssa’s condition is stable but precarious. she is experiencing significant fatigue and pain. her pulse is weak, and her skin is pale. prince baelon remains at her side. i will monitor prince aegon for any signs of weakness.” [grand maester elysar]

eighteenth day of the third moon of the eighty-fourth year after aegon’s conquest

“princess alyssa’s fever has worsened, and her wounds from childbirth show signs of infection. i have applied poultices and increased her dosages of tonics. prince baelon is growing increasingly anxious… princess saera has been betrothed to lord otto hightower. prince aegon is healthy.” [grand maester elysar]

twentieth day of the third moon of the eighty-fourth year after aegon’s conquest

“princess alyssa’s fever persists. she is unable to rise from her bed, and cannot stomach even soup. the maesters and i continue to do all we can to ease her suffering. prince viserys has taken an interest in his youngest brother, and is showing him the attention their parents cannot.” [septon barth]

twenty-seventh day of the third moon of the eighty-fourth year after aegon’s conquest

“the infection in prince alyssa’s wounds have spread. her skin burns me, and she is often crying in pain. i fear the stranger may take her at any moment. prince daemon, though only three, is very sensitive to his mother’s condition; he will not leave her side, screaming when his mother’s maidservant tries to coax him out.” [grand maester elysar]

fifth day of the fourth moon of the eighty-fourth year after aegon’s conquest

“princess alyssa's decline continues. she is often unconscious, and her brief moments of lucidity are filled with pain. prince baelon is inconsolable. he has begun to withdraw from court affairs. queen alyssane has taken on the role of aegon’s caregiver. she and prince viserys picked a black egg from a clutch of vhagar’s for prince aegon’s cradle.” [septon barth]

fifteenth day of the fourth moon of the eighty-fourth year after aegon’s conquest

“it has been a moon since prince aegon’s birth. the stranger is nearing. princess alyssa’s pulse is weak, her breaths barely there. the infection has ravaged her body. prince viserys stands vigil with prince baelon.” [grand maester elysar]

twentieth day of the fourth moon of the eighty-fourth year following aegon’s conquest

“princess alyssa’s suffering has ended. the stranger came in the hour of the eel, and took her quickly. prince baelon is shattered. the prince viserys has expressed sorrow, but has kept a brave face for prince daemon. he tells me he is sad for this mother’s passing, but he must be strong for his brothers. prince aegon is growing steadily.” [septon barth]

twenty-second day of the fourth moon of the eighty-fourth year following aegon’s conquest

“princess alyssa has been laid to rest in targaryen fashion, with a pyre built to receive her body. vhagar loomed nearby, casting a shadow over the already dark gathering. at prince vhagar’s command, vhagar roared and unleashed dragonfire, engulfing the princess’ body in red flames.” [septon barth]

twenty-fourth day of the fourth moon of the eighty-fourth year following aegon’s conquest

“prince aegon’s egg has cracked to reveal a deep-blue hatchling. good queen alyssane has named the hatchling onixia, after the valyrian goddess of sorcery. prince aegon is very infatuated with it, and refuses to allow it to leave his cradle. the dragon does not oppose its imprisonment, and remains curled around the young prince’s head. a joyous event amidst the sorrow.” [septon barth]

fifteenth day of the third moon of the eighty-seventh year following aegon’s conquest

“the prince aegon has reached his third year. his bond with onixia is strong, like that of twins. very rarely is the young prince seen without his dragon trailing after him, a sight that brings a ghost of a smile to prince baelon’s sullen face. princess alyssa is ever-present in prince aegon, a kind and soft child. the same cannot be said about prince daemon, who is unruly and constantly terrorizing his septa and cousins. but his favorite to terrorize is his brother, prince aegon. i believe he blames him for the passing of princess alyssa. princess viserra has married her younger brother, prince gaemon.” [septon barth]

twentieth day of the third moon of the ninety-fourth year following aegon’s conquest

“prince aegon’s tenth year is marked by his first flight on onixia. the event is a celebrated one. prince viserys is a guiding force in his life… he and princess gael have been observed together many times. though the girl is quite strange, prince aegon finds delight in her company. he often reads to her in the library, and will bring her flowers he finds in the gardens… he and his prince baelon have grown quite close. the years spent apart have not cast a shadow over their relationship. his relationship with prince daemon has also improved, and i, myself, have witnessed the elder sparring with the boy in the training yards on numerous occasions.” [septon barth]

eleventh day of the third moon of the ninety-fifth year following aegon’s conquest

“queen alyssane slipped walking up the serpentine steps and has broken her hip. the recovery will be long and arduous. while she tries to hide it, i believe prince aegon knows she is slipping away. he was with her when she fell. when asked about the events leading up to the fall, through tears, he explained that she appeared to not be able to see. prince baelon has voiced his fears to king jaehaerys, who has voiced them to me, that prince aegon may lose another mother so soon. but the queen is strong, and will fight off the stranger for as long as possible… she has begun to discuss the possible marriages for prince aegon.” [grand maester elysar]

fifth day of the first moon of the ninety-eighth year following aegon’s conquest

“queen alyssane has picked a suitable list of brides for prince aegon, amond them being mallory tyrell, daughter of mattheos tyrell, tyana lannister, daughter of tymond lannister, mara martell, daughter of morion martell, and the queen’s own daughter, princess gael. it is unlikely, however, that the council will approve of betrothing the prince to a dornish, nor will they approve of betrothing the promising young prince to the fragile princess.” [septon barth]

eighth day of the first moon of the ninety-eigth year after aegon’s conquest

“the small council has chosen mallory tyrell. they will be wed following the prince’s fifteenth nameday.” [septon barth]

thirtieth day of the third moon of the ninety-ninth year following aegon’s conquest

“prince aegon and princess gael have fled to dragonstone and married. prince daemon, son of maegor the cruel, served as their witness. the king is furious, but there is not much to do—the two have already consummated the marriage, if maester gerardys’ letter is to be believed.” [maester allar]

Chapter Text

from the balcony overlooking the training yard, queen alyssane watched as humfrey hightower and aegon sparred below. the clash of swords echoed throughout the courtyard, the rhythmic sound of metal on metal punctuated by the occasional grunt or shout. aegon, now one and five, moved with grace and determination, his skill evident even at his young age. humfrey, also one and five and on the path to knighthood, fought with a fierceness that bordered on recklessness, his strikes powerful and swift.

beside alyssane sat gael, now nineteen, her hands clasped in front of her as she observed the sparring. at nineteen, the girl was not yet married, her mother reluctant to let her last daughter go.

that, and the fact that she had bigger plans for her. plans that needed to wait.

as the two young men below continued their sparring, alyssane turned to gael, expression thoughtful.

“gael,” she began softly, “have you ever thought about your future?”

gael tilted her head slightly, brows knitting together in confusion. “i suppose i have not, no… why do you ask, mother?” her tone was distant.

alyssane laughed softly. “i ask because i’ve been thinking lately.”

“of what?”

alyssane pressed her lips together, choosing her words carefully. “i have considered a betrothal for you.” she watched for gael’s reaction, but she gave none, just a soft hum, so she continued, “i’ve considered a betrothal… to aegon.”

gael’s eyebrows lifted and her head tilted in that familiar, curious way of hers. “aegon? this aegon right here?”

“yes, this aegon,” gael said, her tone careful. “i have been thinking about your future, aegon’s as well. i fear i won’t be here forever, and it would ease my heart to know you were both well cared for.”

gael was silent for a moment, her fingers idly picking at the hem of her dress. “aegon is kind,” she said finally. “he is my closest friend. he understands me.”

alyssane’s hopes lifted slightly at her words. “yes, he does doesn’t he? i believe you and aegon would be happy together. he would take care of you, i’m sure of it. what do you think of it?”

gael’s gaze returned to aegon, a small smile playing on her lips. “i wouldn’t mind,” she said simply.

alyssane studied her, her last-born daughter, trying to read the depths of her thoughts. gael’s words were always measured, hiding more than they revealed. but alyssane saw the contentment in her eyes, and it was enough to give her hope. “i will speak with your father,” she said finally. “it would bring me a great peace to see you both united.”

—

aegon wiped the sweat from his brow as he and humfrey finished their sparring match. the training yard was quiet now, the only sounds the distant calls of birds and the rustling of leaves. aegon sheathed his sword and looked at humfrey, who was leaning against the neighboring post, catching his breath.

“you have to be sturdier if you want to be a knight,” aegon smirked at his cousin. the blonde shot him a glare, though there lacked any heat behind it. “you’re to be knighted in a moon’s time and you’re still as thin as i am!” humfrey huffed and wiped the sweat off his upper lip.

“just as thin, yet still faster,” the boy grinned.

aegon rolled his eyes before swatting at humfrey’s side with the flat side of his sword. “ass,” his cousin hissed before taking a swig of water from a nearby waterskin.

the two stood in silence for a moment, catching their breaths. aegon stared at the ground below, tracing circles into the dirt with his foot. he thought to himself that he wasn’t jealous of humfrey for gaining knighthood. the boy was a good fighter, and strong despite his leanness. and aegon thought knighthood didn’t suit himself anyway, as he’d always been one for books and histories rather than fighting.

“aegon,” humfrey murmured. the silver-haired prince lifted his head to look at his cousin. “i wonder who grandmother will betroth us to.” aegon’s face screwed up at the thought. marriage? disgusting.

“why are you thinking about that?” he scoffed, kicking a nearby pebble. he saw, out of the corner of his eye, humfrey give a off-handed shrug. “we are getting older… it’s natural to think of the next step.”

“and the next step is marriage, is it?” aegon questioned.

“isn’t it?”

the two stood in silence for a moment before aegon conceded, “i fear grandmother will betroth me to someone far from here. like… i-i don’t know… like lady amanda.” it was humfrey’s turn to screw up his face. “you’re twenty-something older aunt that smells like harrenhall?” he demanded. aegon rolled his eyes. “you know what i mean! someone like her. someone i have nothing in common with, who lives so far away.”

humfrey nodded understandingly. “i think grandmother will have very little say in my marriage. i think my father will decide it all, grandmother’s wishes be damned. someone from the reach, likely. maybe a tyrell, but lord matthos is too ambitious for a second son’s son, so none of his daughters. a niece, perhaps.”

aegon hummed and twirled his sword like a top. “i hope grandmother chooses someone of valyrian blood,” he admitted. “not because we’re better than andals, but because i’d have a shared history with them.”

“like aunt gael?”

aegon froze, sword clunking to the ground. he stood frozen for several seconds before asking, “what in the seven hells are you talking about?”

humfrey barked a laugh. “you and aunt gael!”

“what about aunt gael?” aegon demanded, face turning a bright red.

“well, you two are perfect for each other,” humfrey said dismissively. “you’re both odd little things who like books and history. the only person you’re closer than me to is her, for gods sake! and grandmother would give her left hand if it meant you, her favorite grandson, married gael, her favorite daughter.”

aegon huffed, staring pointedly at the ground.

“aunt gael is my friend.”

humfrey sighed and rolled his eyes, but decided to let it go. he knew he’d get nowhere with aegon when he got petulant like that.

“alright, alright. pick up your sword, we’re not done.”

—

aegon sat in the quiet of the library, a large tome spread open before him on his lap. the flickering light of a nearby candle cast a shadow across the pages as he read aloud to gael, who was seated beside him, her breathing soft as she listened intently.

“among the ironborn, it is said that the first of the first men to come to the iron isles found the famous seastone chair on old wyk, but that the isles were uninhabited. if true, the nature and origins of the chair’s makers are a mystery,” aegon read, voice steady and calm.

gael listened intently, her eyes half-closed as she absorbed the ancient history. aegon glanced at her, a fond smile tugging at his lips. he loved their moments of quie, just in each other’s presence.

aegon continued, “maester kirth in his collection of ironborn legends, songs of the drowned men sing, has suggested that—”

a sudden knock on the door interrupted his reading. a servant of queen ceryssa entered, bowing respectfully. “prince aegon, the king and queen request your presence in the king’s solar.”

aegon sighed but nodded. he had a feeling he knew what this was about; he’d heard some of the servants whispering. “thank you,” he said, rising to his feet. he turned to gael and gave her a reassuring smile. “i’ll be back soon.”

gael nodded, her eyes following him as he left the library. aegon’s mind raced with possibilities as he made his way through the corridors of the red keep.

when he approached the doors to his grandfather’s solar, the kingsguard at the door announced his name and opened the door. upon entrance, he found his grandparents in a deep, almost heated conversation. they stopped as he entrance, their expressions turning to warmth.

“grandson,” jaehaerys greeted, voice steady and regal. “come, sit with us.” aegon bowed at them before sitting in the empty seat at their small table.

alyssane reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “we have decided on your betrothal,” she said, voice tight. “between mallory tyrell, tyana lannister, and mara martell, we’ve decided you are to marry lady tyrell in the fourth moon of the next year.”

aegon’s heart sank. he had expected them to talk to him about his betrothal but… not to mallory. but he knew his duty, and he nodded. “i understand,” he said quietly. “i will do what you ask of me.”

aegon could not bare to look into his grandmother’s eyes, for he knew all he would see was a similar sadness. only when he felt her squeeze his arm did he look up. “thank you, aegon,” she whispered. “i know you will make us proud.”

—

alyssane paced the length of the solar angrily, like a dragon ready to pounce. “jaehaerys, we must betroth aegon and gael,” she insisted, voice edged with desperation. “gael will be a better match for him! she’s a targaryen, they have the same blood. they understand each other in ways a westerosi cannot!”

jaehaerys groaned quietly, rubbing his wrinkled temples. “the marriage would not be beneficial, alyssane. we’ve already thrown away allyships when we betrothed four of our children to each other, we cannot make the same mistakes with our grandchildren.” he countered. “and we have already spoken to lord matthos, the decision is final. if you wanted the girl to marry aegon, why did you not say so beforehand?”

alyssane’s eyes flashed with irritation. “you are the king, jaehaerys,” she said, completely ignoring his last question. “you can break the betrothal if you wish, and no one can stop you! do it before all of westeros knows.”

jaehaerys shook his head. “that’s not how it works and you know it, alyssane,” he said firmly. “if i do this the reach will scorn us forever, and it will erase all the peace house targaryen has worked towards for ninety years. we must honor our commitments.

alyssane opened her mouth to argue further, but jaehaerys raised his hand. “enough, alyssane. aryana,” he called for alyssane’s handmaiden that followed her at all times to ensure she did not fall, “go fetch the prince aegon and bring him here, please.” aryana bowed and quickly left his solar.

alyssane huffed tiredly and sat in the chair across from jaehaerys, her expression resolute. “jaehaerys, you know as well as i do that aegon and gael should marry. break the betrothal.” alyssane was begging at this point, but she did not care. “it came to me in a dream, it must happen!”

“that’s not how it works, alyssane,” jaehaerys snapped. “there are politics to consider, alliances that must be maintained.”

“and what of our family, jaehaerys?” alyssane’s eyes flashed with frustration. “what of our children, our grandchildren? gael will be better off with aegon. they will be happy together, and their union will strengthen our family.”

jaehaerys looked at her, his gaze unyielding. “we cannot always make decisions based on what is best for our family. we must consider the realm as a whole.”

alyssane continued, as if she had not heard a thing he had said, “we married for love, jaehaerys, after i was already betrothed to lord corwyn!”

jaehaerys’ patience, worn thin, snapped, “no, alyssane, we loved each other, but we married for politics. do not forget that. had i not wed you, your father’s supporters would have taken my head in my sleep. our marriage was a necessity.”

alyssane opened her mouth to retort, but jaehaerys continued, “we did what was required of us to secure the realm, to protect the family, our blood. this is no different. aegon’s marriage will be securing alliances. his wants—your wants—are not paramount.” the queen’s mouth opened yet again to reply, when a kingsguard declared: “prince aegon!”

the door pushed open, and the subject of their argument entered. alyssane shut her mouth to smile softly at her grandson.

“grandson,” jaehaerys greeted. “come, sit with us.”

Chapter Text

from the balcony overlooking the training yard, queen ceryssa watched as daemon and aegon sparred below. the clash of swords echoed throughout the courtyard, the rhythmic sound of metal on metal punctuated by the occasional grunt or shout. aegon, now fifteen, moved with grace and determination, his skill evident even at his young age. daemon, eighteen and knighted the year prior, fought with a fierceness that bordered on recklessness, his strikes powerful and swift. 

beside ceryssa stood gael, now nineteen, her hands clasped in front of her as she observed the sparring. she had always had a reserved nature, peculiar in the way she saw the world. as the two young men below continued their sparring, ceryssa turned to gael, expression thoughtful.

“gael,” she began softly, “have you ever thought about your future?”

gael tilted her head slightly, brows knitting together in confusion. “future? like tomorrow?” her tone was distant.

ceryssa laughed softly. “more than tomorrow, gael. i mean… marriage. like… aegon. what if you were to marry aegon?”

gael’s eyebrows lifted and her head tilted in that familiar, curious way of hers. “aegon? this aegon right here?”

“yes, this aegon,” ceryssa said, her tone careful. “i have been thinking about your future, aegon’s as well. i…i fear i won’t be here forever, and it would ease my heart to know you were both well cared for.”

gael was silent for a moment, her fingers idly picking at the hem of her dress. “aegon is kind,” she said finally. “he understands me.”

ceryssa’s heart lifted slightly at her words. “yes, he does doesn’t he? i believe you and aegon would be happy together. he would take care of you.”

gael’s gaze returned to aegon, a small smile playing on her lips. “i wouldn’t mind,” she said simply.

ceryssa studied her, her last-born daughter, trying to read the depths of her thoughts. gael’s words were always measured, hiding more than they revealed. but ceryssa saw the contentment in her eyes, and it was enough to give her hope. “i will speak with your father,” she said finally. “it would bring me a great peace to see you both united.”

gael suddenly tilted her head back, a thoughtful look crossing her features. “mother, i’ve heard whispers,” she murmured. ceryssa’s brow furrowed and she looked at her daughter. “what whispers, my daughter?” gael replied, voice, somehow, more reserved than usual, “you and the king have already betrothed aegon to lord tyrell’s eldest daughter.”

ceryssa sighed and shook her head. “yes, we have, but i will take care of it. your father will end it before it is officially announced, i will make sure of it.”

gael nodded, attention already drifting back to her nephews. ceryssa reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

—

aegon wiped the sweat from his brow as he and daemon finished their sparring match. the training yard was quiet now, the only sounds the distant calls of birds and the rustling of leaves. aegon sheathed his sword and looked at daemon, who was leaning against a post, catching his breath.

as aegon watched his brother, he found his thoughts drifting. he wondered about his own marriage, when it would be, who it would be with. most unions orchestrated by their grandmother had turned out well in their own way. his brother viserys and cousin aemma were happy together, despite their… large age gap and countless miscarriages in four years. no matter. his cousin rhaenys and corlys velaryon were deeply in love, as well. his aunt daella had been happy in her marriage and life with his great uncle gaemon before her death. the whole of his family seemed to have been put in loving marriages.

but there was also daemon’s marriage to rhea royce, which seemed to be the one singular glaring exception.

daemon’s disdain for his wife was no secret. he spoke of rhea with a bitterness that aegon couldn’t quite understand. he wondered if his own marriage, whoever it might be to, would be similar to his other relatives, or if he would have the same fate as daemon’s, a relationship full of resentment and hate. this thought nagged at him, pulled at his skin til it hurt. 

“why do you never go to runestone?” he couldn’t help but ask, hoping to ease his curiosity. “why haven’t you… consummated your marriage with… her.” daemon hated hearing her name. “what an ugly, commoners name,” he had spat with so much venom, once, that aegon thought daemon’s spit that had landed on his own hand would burn a hole through it.

daemon’s expression darkened, eyes narrowing. “because she is one of the ugliest things i’ve ever set my eyes on,” he said, tone mocking. “the sheep in the vale are more fuckable than her. why would i want to be with her?” 

aegon frowned, feeling a pang of discomfort and, almost, guilt at his brother’s harsh words of his wife. “but she’s your wife. why do you speak of her so?”

daemon scoffed, pushing himself away from the post. “ i didn’t pick her—grandmother did. just like she’s going to pick someone for you. probably aunt gael, poor thing. i can’t imagine what it’s like to be like her?”

aegon’s face flushed red with anger. “what…what’s wrong with gael?”

daemon laughed again, louder this time. “ ‘what’s wrong with gael?’ she’s peculiar, aegon. she’s… dim.”

aegon’s anger deepened, and his eyes darted up to where gael herself sat on the balcony with their grandmother. “she’s not dim,” he snapped. “she’s smart and, and kind. she deserves respect, so you shouldn’t speak of her that way!”

daemon waved his hand, dismissing aegon’s defense. “there’s no need to fight about it. it’s just the way things are. grandmother might not even betroth the two of you, you’ll probably marry some highborn lady.”

aegon huffed but nodded reluctantly. “come on, i want to spar some more.” daemon smiled and unsheathed his sword again.

it would be an accident if aegon’s next strike landed to hard on daemon’s chest, winding him and knocking him to the ground. but if he had done it on purpose, he wouldn’t feel guilty.

—

aegon sat in the quiet of the library, a large tome spread open before him on his lap. the flickering light of a nearby candle cast a shadow across the pages as he read aloud to gael, who was seated beside him, her breathing soft as she listened intently.

“among the ironborn, it is said that the first of the first men to come to the iron isles found the famous seastone chair on old wyk, but that the isles were uninhabited. if true, the nature and origins of the chair’s makers are a mystery,” aegon read, voice steady and calm.

gael listened intently, her eyes half-closed as she absorbed the ancient history. aegon glanced at her, a fond smile tugging at his lips. he loved their moments of quiet companionship.

aegon continued, “maester kirth in his collection of ironborn legends, songs of the drowned men sing, has suggested that—”

a sudden knock on the door interrupted his reading. a servant of queen ceryssa entered, bowing respectfully. “prince aegon, the king and queen request your presence in the king’s solar.”

aegon sighed but nodded. he had a feeling he knew what this was about; he’d heard some of the servants whispering. “thank you,” he said, rising to his feet. he turned to gael and gave her a reassuring smile. “i’ll be back soon.”

gael nodded, her eyes following him as he left the library. aegon’s mind raced with possibilities as he made his way through the corridors of the red keep.

when he approached the doors to his grandfather’s solar, the kingsguard at the door announced his name and opened the door. upon entrance, he found his grandparents in a deep, almost heated conversation. they stopped as he entrance, their expressions turning to warmth.

“grandson,” jaehaerys greeted, voice steady and regal. “come, sit with us.” aegon bowed at them before sitting in the empty seat at their small table.

ceryssa reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “we have decided on your betrothal,” she said, voice tight. “between mallory tyrell, tyana lannister, and mara martell, we’ve decided you are to marry lady tyrell in the fourth moon of the next year.”

aegon’s heart sank. he had expected them to talk to him about his betrothal but… not to mallory. but he knew his duty, and he nodded. “i understand,” he said quietly. “i will do what you ask of me.”

aegon could not bare to look into his grandmother’s eyes, for he knew all he would see was a similar sadness. only when he felt her squeeze his arm did he look up. “thank you, aegon,” she whispered. “i know you will make us proud.”

—

ceryssa paced the length of the solar angrily, her frustration palpable. “jaehaerys, we must betroth aegon and gael,” she insisted, voice edged with desperation. “gael will be a, a better match for him! she’s a targaryen, they have the same blood. they understand each other in ways a westerosi cannot!”

jaehaerys huffed, rubbing his temples. “if you wanted to marry our daughter to aegon, why did you not say so before making a list of other girls for him to marry?” he countered. “we’ve already agreed on the betrothal with lord matthos, it is too late.”

ceryssa’s eyes flashed with determination. “you are the king, jaehaerys. you can break the betrothal if you wish, and no one can stop you! do it before all of westeros knows.”

jaehaerys shook his head. “that’s not how it works and you know it, ceryssa,” he said firmly. “if i do this the reach will rebel, and it will erase all the peace house targaryen has worked towards for ninety years. we must honor our commitments.

ceryssa opened her mouth to argue further, but jaehaerys raised his hand. “enough, ceryssa. aryana,” he called for ceryssa’s servant that followed her at all times to ensure she did not fall, “go fetch the prince aegon and bring him here, please.” aryana bowed and quickly left his solar.

ceryssa huffed and sat in the chair across from jaehaerys, her expression resolute. “jaehaerys, you know as well as i do that aegon and gael should marry. break the betrothal.” ceryssa was begging at this point, but she did not care. “it came to me in a dream, it must happen!”

“that’s not how it works, ceryssa,” jaehaerys snapped. “there are politics to consider, alliances that must be maintained.”

“and what of our family, jaehaerys?” ceryssa’s eyes flashed with frustration. “what of our children, our grandchildren? gael will be better off with aegon. they will be happy together, and their union will strengthen our family.”

jaehaerys looked at her, his gaze unyielding. “we cannot always make decisions based on what is best for our family. we must consider the realm as a whole.” 

ceryssa continued, as if she had not heard a thing he had said, “ we married for love, jaehaerys, after i was already betrothed to lord corwyn!” 

jaehaerys’ patience, worn thin, snapped, “no, ceryssa, we loved each other, but we married for politics. do not forget that. had i not wed you, your father’s supporters would have taken my head in my sleep. our marriage was a necessity.”

ceryssa opened her mouth to retort, but jaehaerys continued, “we did what was required of us to secure the realm, to protect the family, our blood. this is no different. aegon’s marriage will be securing alliances. his wants— your wants—are not paramount.” ceryssa’s mouth opened yet again to reply, when a kingsguard declared: “prince aegon!”

the door pushed open, and the subject of their argument entered. ceryssa shut her mouth to smile softly at her grandson.

“grandson,” jaehaerys greeted. “come, sit with us.”

Chapter Text

aegon had tried, truly he had, but he could not bring himself to like mallory tyrell.

he sat across from her, observing every detail about her that grated on him. her voice, lilting and pleasant to everyone else, spoke of everything he found dull. she had a habit of laughing too lightly, as though everything she said was meant to be witty and charming. aegon felt nothing but pure irritation. 

he stared at her, trying to find something, anything, that could appeal to him. but as her words droned on and on and on, he found only flaws.

her voice grated just on him, no matter how pleasant it may sound; each melodic lily was accompanied by the sound of spit clicking in her mouth. the sound—click, click, click—set his teeth on edge. she spoke of things that did not matter to him—fashion, gossip, and the latest courtly entertainments—as if they were of great importance, as if he should care about them at all. she prattled on and on, never pausing to ask for his thoughts, never noticing the way his eyes glazed over in boredom.

and then there was her appearance. mallory was not unattractive, but aegon found nothing about her looks that drew him in. her auburn hair was neatly done, braided in a familiar southern way, but it wasn’t the silvery-white that he always associated with beauty. her eyes were a vibrant green, but they lacked the lilac hue he had always found so captivating. she was tall and graceful, but she didn’t have the petite frame he secretly found endearing. 

she was not a targaryen, and she certainly was not gael targaryen.

aegon thought all of this as he stared at her, his beautiful face graced by a smile while his eyes held nothing but irritation. they were seated at a table on a balcony overlooking the red keep’s gardens, breaking their fast together as was expected of betrotheds. mallory chattered away about something—he couldn’t even remember what—and he tried, really, truly tried, to find something interesting about her, something pleasant. but everything about her all felt so wrong.

his mind began to drift, despite his best efforts to remain present and engaged in the conversation. he wondered what his future would look like. would their marriage be like his parents’--a union of love and partnership—or would it be like daemon’s dreadful marriage to rhea royce? aegon shuddered at the thought. he feared that if he didn’t try hard enough to like mallory, their marriage would become a mirror of daemon and rhea’s.

but then his thoughts shifted, as they often did, to gael. if he were betrothed to his aunt, things would surely be different, wouldn’t they? he would be happy with gael, he was sure of it. they understood each other in a way no one else could. they had a bond that went beyond friendship, beyond family. aegon imagined their life together, full of warmth and laughter, more in love than baelon and alyssa had been.

but then he thought, ‘what do you mean ‘in love’ with gael? you’re not in love with gael! you love her as a friend, a companion. not a… lover.’

he shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, but it lingered, casting a shadow over his heart. aegon was in denial, he knew. but he didn’t want to acknowledge the depth of his feelings for gael, the layers. it was impossible, unthinkable. and besides, he had to leave that thought behind. it would never happen. he would be in a, hopefully, happy marriage with mallory tyrell, not his best friend.

forcing a smile, aegon turned his attention back to mallory, who was laughing at something she had said. he tried to like her, tried to convince himself that this was the future he wanted, but deep down, he knew the truth. no matter how hard he tried, mallory tyrell would never be gael targaryen.

—

after breaking their fast, aegon excused himself as quickly as he could without seeming rude. he wandered the halls of the red keep, his thoughts heavy and conflicted.

he had been avoiding gael for weeks now; ever since his grandparents had announced his betrothal to mallory tyrell, he just… couldn’t be around her. it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to see gael—quite the opposite, in fact. but every time he looked at her, he felt a heavy weight on his chest. emotions he couldn’t quite place or explain.

he rounded a corner and nearly ran straight into the object of his most confusing thoughts, and his heart jolted with shock. the sight of her so suddenly, right before him, made his breath catch. his pulse quickened, not from the near-collision, but from the unsettling mix of emotions that rushed to the surface. gael’s gaze lifted to meet his with the same soft expression she always wore. aegon felt panic rise in his chest, nearly suffocating him. his thoughts scrambled, and he couldn’t keep the fear from creeping into his eyes. shifting awkwardly, he tried to avoid her gaze, his entire demeanor betraying his discomfort. 

“aegon,” she said, voice lilting with that wistful tone of hers. “why are you so sad, nephew?”

aegon hesitated. he briefly looked up to meet her eyes before lowering them again. “i’m fine, gael… truly.”

she tilted her head, studying him with those keen eyes of hers. “i don’t believe you,” she said honestly, soft voice laced with a strange sort of understanding. “but if it’s what you believe, i will let you.”

her words, so simple yet so piercing, frustrated him. she had a way of seeing through him, of understanding him in ways he himself didn’t. it made him uncomfortable and scared. 

“i said i’m fine, gael,” he snapped, voice harsher than he intended.

gael blink, expression unchanging. “if you say so,” she replied, voice as soft as a lullaby. in a quieter tone, one nearly a whisper, “the moon hides behind the stars, even though the wolves call for it.” before aegon could respond, ask her what the gods name she meant, she continued her walk, drifting through the halls like a spirit.

aegon huffed irritatedly before also continuing his walk. but guilt weighed heavy on his heart. he knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, that his irritation was misplaced. she was gael—sweet, kind, lovely gael, who spoke in odd ways and collected rocks like they were fine jewels. she was innocent in all of this, and he had no right at all to take his frustration out on her. the realization stung, and, as he entered his chambers, he vowed to apologize to her later. 

but for now, he just needed to be alone. he collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in the soft fur blanket, wishing he could drown in it.

—

aegon sat ub a quiet chamber of the red keep, cradling a squirming rhaenyra in his lap. the little princess, barely a year old, was captivated by the laces of his doublet, her chubby fingers tugging and pulling with delight. aegon smiled down at her, feeling grateful for the distraction she provided.

viserys watched them with a fond smile, clearly pleased by the sight of his daughter and youngest brother together. “isn’t she precious?” he remarked, leaning back in his chair. “just imagine, brother: one day you’ll have a little one of your own.”

aegon’s smile faltered at the thought. the idea of having a child was not unpleasant in itself, but then he remembered who he would have children with. the thought of having a child with mallory tyrell soured his mood immediately. he shifted rhaenyra in his lap, turning her so she was facing her father, in hopes of diverting the conversation. “i just don’t want children,” he said. 

what he really meant was “i don’t want children with mallory tyrell.”

viserys chuckled, clearly not taking him seriously. “why not? you’ll make a fine father! you just wait.”

aegon adjusted the babe in his lap, trying to ignore the persisting weight in his chest. “i just don’t see it,” he mumbled.

viserys looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then began speaking gently, almost as if trying to coax a frightened child out of hiding. “becoming a father is alike to tending a garden, aegon—not that i’ve ever, well, tended to one, but i have read books. you plant a seed, you nurture it, and you watch it grow. at first, it’s this, just this small, fragile thing. however, with time and care, it becomes something beautiful, something strong. a child is the same. they need love, guidance. in return, they give you joy, pride, and a sense of purpose.”

“i know how rewarding being a father is, viserys, i just don’t… want children. not with lady mallory,” aegon grumbled, a pout on his lips.

viserys sighed exasperatedly and said, “aegon, i know you wish it were aunt gael, but—”

“ what?” aegon nearly shouted. “no i don’t!” he must have looked crazed, eyes wide with fear, cheeks flushed red; he nearly threw rhaenyra from his lap from shock.

viserys raised a brow, face suddenly breaking out into pure shock. “what do you mean? you love aunt gael, do you not?”

“no!” aegon blurted out. though, even as the word left his mouth, he knew it was a lie. it even tasted like a lie. but he couldn’t admit it—not to viserys, and certainly not to himself. for the second time that day, he felt as if he were made of glass, like his brother could see right through him. 

for a long moment, viserys simply looked at him, gaze unyielding. then, he waved a hand dismissively. “no matter. whether you realize it or not, you will come to love lady mallory. maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next year, but eventually. you’ll see.”

aegon sighed and looked down at rhaenyra, who was still happily playing with his sleeves. “daemon doesn’t like lady rhea,” he muttered. 

viserys scoffed, “that’s because daemon is as stubborn as an ass. he could find fault in the mother herself if she dared to cross him”

aegon couldn’t help but laugh, and rhaenyra, hearing the sound, joined in with her own innocent giggled, though she had no idea what was so funny. viserys leaned forward, his tone more serious now. “but you, aegon, are not daemon. you’re kind, thoughtful. and you’ll find that, in time, you might come to love her. when you see the mother of your child nurture them, you'll love her. how could you not?”

aegon wasn’t so sure. but as he returned his attention to rhaenyra, he let the worries slip away. for nowm he could focus on making her laugh, on the simple joys of the moment.

Chapter Text

the news reached aegon with a gravity that was both unwelcome and oddly relieving.

he had been summoned to king jaehaerys’ chambers, a summons he could not ignore. the grand hallways of the red keep seemed longer and more imposing as he walked, each step echoing with the weight of anticipation. the heavy wooden doors to the king’s private chambers loomed ahead, their ornate carvings depicting dragons and flames. as he approached, the kingsguard at the door pushed open the large oak doors and announced his name.

as he entered, he saw king jaehaerys seated at the oak table by his balcony, the windows open, letting fresh air into the room. his presence was as commanding as ever. jaehaerys said nothing, simply gestured for aegon to sit.

“my boy,” jaehaerys began, his voice carrying the weariness of age, “i’ve summoned you here to deliver sad news.” he paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “the stranger came for lady tyrell under a fortnight ago.”

aegon felt a pang of genuine sympathy despite his distaste for mallory. lady tyrell’s was a loss to her family; though he did not understand the loss of a mother, he did not have one. 

but aegon couldn’t help but feel a flicker of relief. 

jaehaerys continued, “as a result of this tragic event, the crown and house tyrell have agreed to grant lady mallory and her family six months to grieve before resuming any discussions concerning the betrothal.”

aegon’s heart skipped a beat. six months. the thought of a temporary escape from the impending marriage to mallory filled him with an elation he’d never felt before. he forced his face into a mask of solemnity, though, internally, he was brimming with relief. the prospect of these six months without obligations to mallory seemed like a gift from the gods—it did not matter which. 

his mind raced with the possibilities.

perhaps, with this delay, there was a chance to find a way out of the engagement altogether. 

he struggled to maintain a serious demeanor, nodding gravely in response to jaehaerys’ words. “i understand, your grace,” he said, voice betraying none of his excitement. “i will respect the time given to lady mallory and her family.”

jaehaerys nodded, satisfied with aegon’s response. “good, good… perhaps you could write a letter of condolences to your betrothed.”

aegon nodded, knowing he wouldn’t.

as aegon left the king’s chambers, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. the prospect of six whole months without mallory was a balm to his worries. he allowed himself a brief smile as he walked back through the corridors, already plotting how he might use this unexpected freedom.

—

the red keep’s library offered aegon a sanctuary from the complications of court life. the library was a vast space of peace, filled with the scent of old parchment and the soft glow of candlelight. aegon had taken refuge there, curled up in the comfortable armchair, absorbed in a tome on valyrian blood magic. 

the library was the only place he could escape his insane family, including gael. he had still avoided her with an almost obsessive precision, aware of her routines and carefully steering clear of her presence. it was a necessary method to avoid the discomfort of facing her.

yet, as he turned the pages of his book, his peace was interrupted by the woman herself.

gael entered, her presence as noticeable as the moon in the night sky. she greeted him with a warm smile, a smile that always had the power to disarm him, and settled into the chair next to his.

“aegon,” she said, voice carrying a note of cheerfulness. “i feel as though i haven’t seen you in moons.”

he looked up before forcing his eyes back down to his book. “oh, don’t be silly, gael,” he said nervously. “we saw each other just earlier today… in the corridor.”

gael shrugged. she folded her limbs in a comfortable, almost subdued manner, signaling her intent to stay for a while. “what are you reading?” she asked curiously.

aegon hesitated before responding, “it’s a book… about valyrian blood magic.”

gael’s eyes lit up with interest, “have you read it all yet?”

“no,” aegon replied hesitantly, knowing what was coming next.

“i’m listening,” she murmured, settling further into the plush chair.

internally, aegon wrestled with himself. he yearned to spend time with gael like old times—like before he was betrothed. but he was overwhelmed by the anxiety of facing her after so many weeks of avoidance.

with a deep breath, he decided to give in. he began to read aloud, voice steady but tinged with nerves. gael listened intently. her attention remained unwavered as the hours slipped by unnoticed.

as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the library’s floor, aegon closed the book reluctantly. the room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the evening, and he realized with a start how much time had passed. 

“i’m sorry, i got carried away,” he murmured.

gael looked up with a gentle smile. “i missed listening to you read,” she said softly. 

aegon felt a pang of guilt. he had neglected her, and now, seeing her smile, he was reminded of the bond they shared. the memory of his harsh words came rushing back. he sighed heavily.

“i’m sorry,” he said softly yet sincerely. “for, for snapping at you in the hallway and… for ignoring you these past moons. you’re my closest friend, and i shouldn’t have avoided you.”

gael’s expression softened and a light, understanding smile touched her lips. “i understand, aegon. there’s nothing to forgive.”

as she took his hand in her softer ones, aegon felt his cheeks flush a deep pink. the simple act of her holding his hand brought an unexpected surge of emotions. he was suddenly struck by the thought of marrying her. he felt stupid.

‘she’s just touching your hand and you’re thinking of marrying her? aegon, you’re pathetic.’ 

but he couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she ever thought the same. 

he found himself unable to contain his curiosity as always. “gael,” he started hesitantly, “have you ever thought about us… marrying?”

gael’s eyes met his, suddenly so serious it shocked the boy. “yes,” she replied certainly. “i’m fond of the idea.”

her response hung in the air. he hadn’t anticipated such directness, and, for a moment, he was at a loss for words. before he could formulate a response, gael continued, her tone firm.

“but you are betrothed to mallory tyrell, aegon. you must accept it.”

aegon huffed, a surge of frustration rising in his chest. “i will never accept it,” he said defiantly. her turned his hand slightly in hers, as if to pull away, but gael’s grip tightened. 

“you must.”

—

viserys and aemma’s chambers were dimly lit, a soft glow from the hearth casting shadows on the stone walls. aegon sat at the rounded table, idly pushing his food around his plate, a deep frown set into his features. his shoulders were hunched, the usual energy that accompanied mealtimes absent. across from him, viserys and aemma exchanged silent glances, while daemon lounged back with his usual air of indifference next to him. the married couples concern grew with every unpleasant shriek and clink of aegon’s fork against his untouched plate.

aemma finally broke the silence. “aegon, is something the matter?” she asked, lilac eyes searching his own for any clue.

aegon let out a long, weary sigh and nodded, though he didn’t lift his gaze from his plate. he knew he couldn’t lie to aemma.

“i…” aegon trailed off uncertainly, unsure how to continue. he shrugged weakly.

aemma waited patiently, her hands folded gently over her swollen belly. four moons into her fourth pregnancy, only one of which was successful. 

viserys, not known for his patience, cleared his throat. “it’s his betrothal to lady mallory that’s bothering him… isn’t it, aegon?” his tone was matter-of-fact, exasperated, voice lacking sympathy. he glanced at aegon with a raised brow, daring him to deny it.

aemma frowned, confused. “what’s wrong with the betrothal? lady mallory is a fine match, isn’t she?”

aegon’s head shot up, eyes narrowing slightly. “i—” he began, but viserys cut him off before he could protest. “don’t deny it,” he huffed. “it’s obvious. you’ve been sulking like a child for weeks now, and we all know why.” viserys crossed his arms with a knowing smirk. “she’s not gael, that’s the problem.”

aegon’s face flushed with anger. “that’s not—” he tried again, his voice defensive, but viserys did not let him finish.

“oh, come off it, aegon,” viserys said, rolling his eyes. “i’m not lying, am i? no, i’m not, so stop whining like a dying mule.”

aegon’s mouth snapped shut, his face a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. he was really sick of talking about it; this six-month pause was for him to not worry about it, not increase his worry. the boy prince slumped back into his seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest, pouting like a child. his usual grace was nowhere to be seen, and, in that moment, he looked every bit like the youngest prince.

aemma glared at her husband, silently telling him to ease off of the boy.

before the silence could settle, daemon, who had been watching the scene with amusement, leaned forward in his chair. his lips curled into a smirk, and he scoffed.

“lady mallory isn’t like us, aemma,” he remarked, tone sharp and dismissive. “she’s an andal. if it were me, i’d rather marry aunt gael than be saddled with someone like her.”

“you are saddled with someone like her, daemon,” aegon groaned, irritated at having to hear his brother’s rant about andals yet again. it was an occurrence every time a cousin or aunt or uncle married one. when their cousin humfrey married the “whent bitch,” as daemon so affectionately called her, you’d have thought she put a curse on the bloodline the way he talked about her. 

daemon’s eyes narrowed, thin lips twisting into a frown. “rhea’s of first men blood, not andal,” he retorted. “that’s far worse.”

before the tension could escalate into their usual bickering, viserys interjected sharply, “enough, both of you! and daemon,” he fixed his hard stare on his middle brother, “honestly, what’s wrong with gael? she’s a lovely girl.”

daemon leaned back again with a cocky grin. “lovely, perhaps, but dim.”

aegon’s temper snapped. the frustration of the past weeks—his looming betrothal, his confusing feelings for gael, the endless reminders of his duty—finally boiled over. his hand slammed down on the table, rattling the plates, causing viserys and aemma to jump in their seats.

“she’s not dim, you whore!” he shouted, face flushed with anger. “she’s kinder, smarter, and more decent than you’ll ever be! you think you’re so superior because you ride caraxes and you’re pure valyrian, but you don’t know shit about anything! you drown yourself in your whores and your cups because you’re too stupid to do anything else!”

daemon’s smirk faltered, falling into a deep scowl, eyes narrowing in response to his younger brother’s outburst, but aegon wasn’t finished.

“you think insulting her makes you clever?” aegon spat. “you’re nothing but a spoiled second son who puts his cock into whatever he has to pay to let him! gael’s worth more than your arrogance and cruelty combined!”

the room fell into a stunned silence, viserys leaning back in his chair with a sigh, but daemon’s lips twisted into a snarl, ready to bite his younger brother’s head clean off his neck.

“you stupid brat,” he sneered, but before he could continue, aemma cut in. “aegon,” she said softly, “let me take you to your room.”

her tone left no room for protest. he nodded and pushed his chair back slowly. aemma rose to her feet, hands pressing to the table for support. she smiled faintly as aegon offered her his arm, and together, they left the table as aegon murmured  a goodbye to viserys. 

daemon’s laughter echoed behind them, but aemma’s tug on his arm prevented him from spinning around and ripping his throat out.

their quiet footsteps filled the silence between them as they walked, and the flickering torches along the walls cast long shadows on the stone floor. aegon glanced at aemma, whose calm demeanor helped ease the turmoil still churning in his mind. 

after several quiet moments, aemma finally spoke. “aegon, you know you don’t have to marry her.”

aegon blinked, confused. “what are you talking about? yes i do?”

aemma glanced at him, voice soft yet firm, “you’re the third son of a second son. you stand to inherit next to nothing—this isn’t a necessary marriage. if you truly don’t wish to marry lady mallory, you don’t have to.”

aegon shook his head, exhaling in frustration. “i can’t just tell grandfather that i don’t want to marry her! he’ll dismiss me in a second.” 

aemma chuckled softly, lightly slapping his arm. “let me finish, love.”

they stopped just before the door to his chambers, and aemma gave him a knowing look. “if unforeseen circumstances were to happen…perhaps it could be ended.”

aegon blinked, staring at her in bewilderment. “what do you mean?”

aemma only smiled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “think about it, cousin.” she patted his arm gently, feigning a yawn. “i must rest. good night, aegon.”

with that, she left him at his door, leaving aegon there, thoroughly more confused than before.