Chapter Text
His head hurts a little, the empty flagon on the nightstand beside him is surely the cause of it. The bright sun was already up and shining, rays bursting through his window screen and reaching his eyelids. His eyes twitch a little as he gains consciousness. He rubs his eyes as he hears a familiar voice pulling his mind out from slumber, it is calling out his name.
“Aegon!” She shakes him a couple of times. “Aegon! Son, wake up!” It was his mother. Like always she would come by his chambers often, not shy of waking the firstborn prince from his comfort. Sometimes she sounds concerned, sometimes it’s disappointment, and sometimes it would be fueled by rage. This time she sounds neutral, like her everyday belittling voice she uses on him often.
What have I done this time to garner another lecture, he thought. “Morning mother, what is it now that you need of me?” He opened his eyes and started to stretch his arms.
“T’is noon already.” She approached his bed closer and sat beside him, she reached out and pulled one of his hands and held it firm. “I need to talk to you about something.” Of course she always had something to say, to lecture for her eldest that seemed to live his life without a care. She looked down on him while he’s still lying on pillows, her glassy eyes seemed like she’s scanning him with judgment. “I talked to your sister earlier. Seems like your efforts of coupling still have failed.”
Aegon knew this topic was coming and that they couldn’t get away with it any longer. It has been half a year since his arranged marriage to Helaena, and so far they have managed to delay and escape their duty to produce an heir. To strengthen your claim, to secure your bloodline and bring forth your own heir to the throne, Mother says. But it’s all what she wants. What about what I want or what my sister wants– but of course he still complied with her wants and needs, and so did Helaena. The Queen Alicent announced her plans of betrothing her eldest son to her only daughter, Helaena on her thirteenth name day. Quite a young age to be betrothed, back then Helaena hadn't even started bleeding yet. He knows it all too well that his betrothal was just to get back at Rhaenyra for proposing a marriage pact for Jace and Helaena. It’s not like he liked Jace either, and he would feel bad for his only sister to be married to some mutt, but Mother’s resentment for Rhaenyra and her entire family runs deep. She is a prideful woman. And right after Helaena got her first blood moon, The Queen immediately arranged that Aegon and Helaena marry and announce their vows in front of the sept. The wedding was abrupt and it wasn’t grandeur, not even Rhaenyra and her new husband came from Dragonstone.
They did not love each other. While not being the closest of siblings, they were still brother and sister. While Helaena’s body has matured greatly, her breast now round and full, her hips curving and widened, her thighs tender and plump– he can’t see past the simple-minded bug loving girl he grew up with. They did still do their duties of course, coupling that is. Once a while and half-heartedly. Seems like the Gods known deep down inside, they don’t want it to happen and have spared his sister to bear his child.
“I know that it is no easy task,” she sighs. “But it has been six months. I promised myself that I wouldn't pry, and trust me, I do not wish to pry. Tell me son, are you really doing it?” Her gaze colder and pierce sharper than before.
“Of course, Mother,” Aegon tries to stare back at his mother’s eye.
“You have not been spending much time with your wife.” She doesn’t seem to be satisfied with the answer he gave.
“We have nothing in common.”
“It is your duty to put a babe inside her and reproduce, Aegon. You are husband and wife, that should be common enough!”
“We have done it, Mother. She’s just turned five-and-ten, maybe she’s just too young to conceive.”
“Nonsense! Her moon cycle is regular and healthy.” She pulls her son’s arms sternly until he’s jerked to sit upright on his bed. Her tone seems more desperate and growing angry, “Besides, I was just her age when I had you.”
“We’ll keep trying, Mother. There’s no hurry in it–” he answered, but his answer further enraged The Queen Mother.
“No hurry?!” She cuts him off. She tightened and pulled Aegon’s arm closer to her own face, she’s breathing down on him. “No hurry, is that what you say? Rhaenyra has just sent a raven! She has successfully birthed her second child with Prince Daemon, a second son! While you’re still ignoring your duties and continuing to sink into your cups!”
Aegon gulped at the sight of his mother’s rage. He did not wish to anger her. Her fingers digging at the sides of his arms, shaking him at every sentence she throws at him.
“Viserys, she named him. Do you know what your father said when he heard of it?” She loosened her grip around his arms, instead she held her son’s jaw with one hand and sighs. “He says, ‘A name fitting for a king.’ He was so joyous of the news too. He would fly to Dragonstone himself if he could.”
His father’s statement sent Aegon’s mind spiraling. The King had never even once considered that he should be king, not even for make-believe. Even in his healthier days, King Viserys never seemed to be very proud or joyous of his eldest son. A contrast to what he had always shown Rhaenyra, The Realms Delight, he calls her affectionately. Right now he wants to run away from The Red Keep and never look back, or jump into an ocean with crashing waves from a steep cliff, or get burnt by his own dragon’s flames. He doesn’t have the courage to actually commit of course. So he just fell back and sank into the comfort of his mattress.
“You are the first true born son, Aegon! You cannot wait here and do nothing while Rhaenyra keeps producing more heirs to push you away from your throne!”
“Even if we count out her…” She’s carefully picking up her choice of word, “...bastards. She now has two sons from her damned uncle-husband and we cannot deny that those are true blooded Targaryen princes, another strong match to rival your challenge, Aegon.” She placed her right hand on top of her son’s head. Aegon flinched a bit at the contact, but turns out she’s just stroking and tidying up his messy hair.
The Queen Mother stood up as she opened his chamber’s windows to let the gust in and took a deep breath. “Please do try, Aegon. We have been lenient enough, but we do not have time to jest anymore with Your Grace’s health gradually declining. I do not wish for it to come, but when the babe has not been due, we will take measurements to ensure the outcome. And it will be hard for you, but it will be harsher on your sister.” She looked down at him one final time before walking out, “So, please.”
His own grandsire, standing just in front of his doors, quietly listening in on their conversation. Of course he had a play in this, while his own Queen Mother is very controlling of him, somehow he knew things would be different if his grandsire hadn't been whispering behind her ears. Controlling her, as now she did with her own children. The figure in his usual dark green robe stepped inside, giving a single nod of agreement to the Queen before her footsteps carried onwards. His fur robe was tall and thick, adorned with intricate embroidery patterns common from House Hightower, and to top it all– a glistening golden pin of The Hand of The King.
“My Prince,” Otto Hightower says, maintaining his distance. He stands tall and proud in front of his grandson, making Aegon look frail and crumpled by size comparison. “I’m hoping your mother has talked enough. I don’t intend to bore you further.”
Aegon stood up, unsure of what to reply but he understood why he’s standing in front of him now. Intimidation, as he does per usual. To further remind him that it’s not only his mother that depended on him, her father too, and their entire family. My family. The whole of House Hightower and their legacy seemed to push pressure on his back and weigh him down.
“Your siblings have begun their classes,” his eyes looking down at him. Just like his mother moments ago. “You shan’t fall behind your studies, child.”
“I feel ill. I’ll attend tomorrow.” The boy answered curtly.
“Very well, as you wish, My Prince.”
He let out a massive grunt as his grandsire walked out. Otto Hightower and his grandchildren have never bonded a lot. Just short talks like these, all duty and sacrifice, no room for compassion. Aegon doesn’t want to think about it further. He then shouted to his servants outside to bring forth another flagon of wine.
He doesn’t want any of this. To be king, to marry his sister, to force her into producing heirs, to be a challenge to his half-sister’s throne, he wants none of it. A father who’s never given him the slightest of acknowledgement, a mother who’s doting arms suffocated him with expectation and disappointment, a grandsire who’s so filled with ambition that he has no room for love for his grandson, an elder-sister who’s his father’s “only child”, a younger sister he’s forced to sully and make love with, a younger brother who’s surpassed him in every category, a youngest brother who’s living his life free without burden in Oldtown. It’s all too much for Aegon, a child merely seven-and-ten. That day, he spent the rest of the entire noon downing more wine until his head was heavy and he cried himself to sleep.
***
His head was ringing as his upset and empty stomach woke him up. He had nothing except Dornish Red for the day, of course his stomach was churning. His head feels exceptionally heavy, he’d love to stay abed and cry all day, but his stomach felt more and more vile. A sudden urge to throw up came onto him suddenly and he relieved himself on the nearest bucket. Its smell is rancid, just a mixture of wine and stomach acid and the texture is watery. He rolled his eyes as finally his stomach felt a tad bit better and wiped his mouth with the hem of his sleeves.
The sun above has already started to fall. He must’ve slept a while, it is now evening and the dining hall should be serving supper at the moment. The back of his head is still foggy and heavy, but he stumbles his way towards the royal dining area to feed his writhing appetite. The smell of fresh pies and pasties hit him as his tongue could somehow taste it. It is accompanied by soft chit-chats inside the room, they sound pleasant as they enjoy supper in this lovely evening. Not that Aegon cares at this point, he just wanted to gorge on some pies and cakes to satisfy what feels like a roaring dragon inside his belly.
It was Aemond and Helaena. They stopped their conversation as they saw Aegon drunk and stumbling into the room. The room fell silent as they glanced at their older brother, and then exchanged glances at themselves. They were sitting next to each other, with Aemond at the head of the table and Helaena beside him. Aegon sat across from Aemond, having a clear few of both his siblings as the servants prepared his cups and plates.
“Aegon,” His brother greeted him with a stern note, “We have just finished classes for today. Ser Cole expects you to join us for training after supper.” The younger spoke to him as he continued cutting a piece of meat pie and brought it to his mouth whilst he maintained eye contact with the elder. The boy across Aegon has nearly grown to an adult, he has grown as tall as his brother with sharper features forming his face. Aemond has been sporting an eyepatch as of late, it’s been 3 years since the incident, but the scar remains very prominent. He rarely ever brings it up, but Mother still can’t seem to let it go. Her son took his eye! And look at what he’d become! He’d hear that a lot as Mother complains every chance she gets to the small council. My boy! How you could’ve been so perfect and grown to be so handsome… but even that she took from you! Aegon wonders what Aemond must’ve felt, to be regarded as deficient because he has one less eye to function. If it were him, he would’ve cried everytime Mother had said that to him. As he wouldn't have had the heart to let down his mother for being imperfect. But on that thought too, he wavers. What if, in his mother’s eyes, he is the defective one.
“I’m not feeling like myself today, maybe next time.” Aegon replied back as his eyes were set on the meal in front of him. He grabbed a couple of pastries and pies to his plate and started to eat with bare hands.
Aemond gave his signature 'mhmms' and carried on with his meal. He has rested his surcoat on the chair next to him, as he continues to spend his time with their sister in a plain black tunic. Now more aware of the drunken presence across them, they continued their conversation in whispers. It doesn’t bother him, not now anyways. He does wonder when things had changed, for as long as Aegon could remember, Aemond has always been the one closest to him. The younger is maturing fast and outgrowing him soon, maybe the effects of spending so much of his free time clashing swords and training with Ser Criston Cole. Now too, he even prefers the comfort of their sister’s speech of riddles and nonsense. Has he really changed that much this past year?
Such a mystery that is his sister-wife, even Mother had tried spending much time with her to no avail. Born with a Targaryen beauty but barricaded herself amongst brick walls as such is the Princess Helaena. Though as of late, Prince Aemond seems to be the only one to succeed breaking down the walls of the princess. Aemond has always been the more sensible one between the two brothers. Aegon’s somewhat glad his sister-wife now has a companion to share her talks and smiles with. Even if he’s not the one accompanying her, the very least that Helaena deserves is someone better to rely on. She was wearing simpler clothes today, with minimal jewelry and her wavy gold-silver hair down. As if her husband hadn’t joined them, she continued chatting with her younger brother, not even giving him a brief greet.
“Care to leave me the last piece?” Aegon said as he notices Helaena reaching out to the last cake roll on the table.
She’s flustered by his plea and went still in her seat– but the younger took the last piece and set it on top of her plate.
“Do give our sister mercy and let her have the last piece, will you?” He placed his hands on top of hers, calming her down.
With some reassurance she finally spoke a word to him, “After hearing Mother’s demands this morning I hadn’t had the appetite except sweets and cakes. Do forgive me, husband.” Her eyes glimmered as she looked into his eyes.
Aegon’s mouth fell open for a moment before he allowed her to have the last piece. Then he ordered the serving girl to cut up the sweetest of fruits they have and serve it for the princess. Damn it Mother! Must you really be that harsh to your softest of children. He pitied her as he could think a thousand ways on how The Queen Mother has been harsher on her than him.
“You must eat well. Moth– I wouldn’t like it if you were ill.”
She gave him a sheepish smile and the softest “thank you” ever muttered.
Not long after, their peaceful evening was interrupted. It’s the Grand Maester, he offered a cup of tea fresh from the brew for Princess Helaena. “For the young princess,” he says. “The Queen has ordered me to brew this. To improve your chances, princess.” He kept his head low as he set the cup in front of her.
Aemond slammed his hands on the table after he heard the Maester. Took his surcoat with him and stormed outside. To training, he says. He is upset, towards Mother perhaps. But Aegon could somehow feel he’s one to blame too.
The tea smells foul. Aegon could smell it from his seat. He stepped out from his chair towards his wife, stood behind her and held her shoulder with both hands. That’s all he could do for her, at least for now. And with the support of her husband on her shoulders, she gulped down the murky brew in one go. They both wouldn’t want to let down Mother after all. It’s at least something they have in common.
“We shall share a room tonight,” he says as he pats her shoulder.
She stood from her seat and turned over facing him, just shy of the prince’s height. “Yes, husband,” she nods at him. Then her dainty pale hands reach over his tunic, tidying the laces of the collar and smoothing the wrinkles on his hem. “You should take care of yourself too, Aegon. A dragon shan’t lose its fire to wine cups.”
He looked over towards his wife, how pretty and young she is. Her freckles are very visible in contrast with her pale complexion, it fits her so well. A shy but mesmerizing type of beauty. And he thinks about how he might actually make it work. To love his wife and do his duties, it might be possible after all. He smiled at her and took Helaena’s hand close to his lips, kissing her wedding ring. A golden dainty ring that matches his own, engraved with high valyrian scripture and a big bright ruby to top it off.
***
The light in King’s Landing skies has dimmed after Aegon had finished soaking. The soapy water felt nice and calming on his skin, relieving just a tiny bit of weight from his shoulders. He dressed himself in his casual attire and stood in front of a mirror. He saw the face of his mother stare back– he has her entire face; her eyes, her nose, her lips, her forehead and jaw, even her curls. Out of all of the Queen’s children, her firstborn had the fullest and curliest of hairs. Silver ringlets framed his face and fell off his shoulders, Mother prefers it long. Aegon doesn’t particularly care what length it should be, but instead of Targaryen Kings or Princes, he thought of how he looks just like his mother.
He went for pottage in the dining room, but nobody was there. The Queen, as per usual, would probably be dining in her husband’s chambers as she would help spoon-feeding him. Grandsire also rarely joined, as he prefers his solemn quarters to dine on a day to day basis. As for his siblings, he wouldn’t know. Maybe they had gone and finished earlier, or hadn't had the time to dine yet, or called in their servants to dine in their chambers. Aegon wouldn’t know. He downed the warm hearty soup in front of him and finished it off with a cup of wine in solitude. Not like he's unfamiliar with it, but dining alone had always tasted hard to swallow.
After he had finished quietly, he called towards his servants to prepare their shared chambers. Untouched and unused for a long time, he told them to change the sheets and light scented candles to create a better mood for him and the princess. “Where is the princess?” He said to one of the serving girls. “I expect her shortly. I will be waiting.”
***
When he arrived, the moment he opened the door a waft of sweet and warm spices filled the air. Aegon inhaled his breath sharply, he hoped his partner would like it as much as he did. A moody and dreary lighting also omitted from the lighted candles. Its flames sway still as beads of molten wax drip from its edges. The hour is growing late, she’ll be here in a moment, he thought as he waited. Growing anxious, the Prince poured himself a cup of wine as he sat. Cup turned into cups as he kept on gulping and pouring. Uneasiness filled his head as time passed by for quite a while, until he heard the door behind him creak open.
The young princess stepped inside as the guards closed the large door behind her. The warm light from the candles illuminated her now plump figure. Helaena was dressed in a purple robe with her hair neatly braided around her head.
“Sorry for the late hour, husband. Mother insisted I be perfect for our time together.” She walked toward him. Aegon could see the details of her robe now, with all her jewelry she was wearing and the glimmers that reflected from it. He could see the straps of her nightdress poking through a little from her slipping robe. A light-blue almost white satin nightdress with a severely low neckline. It would be most inappropriate to wear on most occasions, all occasions really, except this one. The dress was surely tailored and made for her to wear for him.
“Helaena,” Aegon stood up to greet his wife. The effects of the wine have already started to impact him, but he prefers that. So that he doesn’t have to think rationally and remember every minute detail of it. He knew it would be hard for his dear sister too, so he poured her a cup of wine and handed it over.
The younger stared at the state of her husband and gulped down the entire cup and poured herself another. Trying to bask herself in the same drunken state as her brother-husband. They stared at each other closely as Aegon’s hands reached her waist where he untied the robe and slipped it away from Helaena’s shoulder. She felt chills at her arms as the robe slipped down to the floor, revealing her nightdress. She blushed as she continued sipping the cup of Dornish Red, she could feel the eyes of her brother gazing down on her immodest outfit.
Aegon couldn’t lie to himself and not stare down the delicious figure in front of him. Like all noblemen– no, like all men, of course he likes pleasure and sex too. And Helaena is more than sufficient, but he can't help but to feel bad for her. The dress was loose fitting but somehow accentuated her round breast. The fabric and the lining was delicate as the neckline steep dangerously between her chest. Two twin peaks can be seen forming on top, it was teasing him somehow. He could feel his body tensing and his cock hardened and he nuzzled in the neck of his wife. The smell of rosewater and scented oil is obvious to him now, Helaena must’ve soaked in it for a long time before their meeting. This would’ve been the perfect mood for coupling as long as they didn’t remember their own family had forced them to this point.
“I’m sorry, Hel.” Feeling guilty to touch her, Aegon apologized beforehand before he continued kissing her neck more and pulling her waist closer.
Helaena took a deep breath and sipped from her cup before finally putting it down. “Don’t be, Aegon.” She followed his lead towards their bed. She is submissive and unsure on what to do, but the effects of the Dornish Red calmed her. Her body felt both light and heavy at the same time, but her mind was hazy as it floated and bounced everytime her husband’s hands touched her body.
He tried his best to be gentle and unrushed, saying his ‘sorry’s in a small voice every time he felt too inappropriate. He tried to make it pleasurable to the both of them– even if he knew it would be indifferent after all. He kissed her tongue, groped her thighs, pinched her nipples, flicked her clit but he still felt guilty all the same. He just wanted things to get over with. He rolled her nightdress up to her stomach as he prepared himself for the entrance. She’s as tight as ever as he slides in and out of her. He could notice Helaena’s eyes start to water as he slid back and forth, but before long, he notices tears running down his cheeks too. He couldn’t stop crying. He picked up his pace as his cries turned into more desperate sobs and more tears fell down his face on top of Helaena’s. The wine helped time pass faster for him, and before long he had reached his climax inside of her.
He quickly pulled out and laid down on the bed beside her. Still unable to stop his cries– maybe also the side effect of him being drunk. He thought the sad thought of himself as he laid back– on how miserable his life is and how the thought of it is constantly eating him from the inside.
Seeing her older brother sobbing and crumpled beside her, Helaena cupped Aegon’s face with her hands and wiped away his constant tears from his cheeks. She couldn’t say a word to comfort him, but she knew what he’s feeling right now. Helaena has never spent the night together with Aegon in the same bed. Usually after their sessions together, she would’ve retreated to her chambers immediately. But seeing the state of him now, she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone.
They didn’t speak another word to each other that night, but she never left his side as he cried himself to sleep for the second time that day. This time with the comfort of his younger sister beside him.
***