i will have my throne

Even now, his brother was so, so blind. Always blind to the plights of all who wasn’t him. How he hated Aegon—how he wished he could be Aegon. What use was there to act as though their birth order was not everything? That by virtue of being first, Aegon was afforded all that he was not?

“And where are they now, to kiss the ground in front of me? Where are they?” Aemond’s hands curled into fists by his side, his knuckles growing pale and his nails digging into his palms, just barely holding onto his emotions—

That was, until Vhagar was brought up, and at last the final threads of his composure snapped. Aemond was upon his brother in a flash, knocking him to the floor with a burst of strength. The man atop Aegon now was a far cry from the second prince Aemond, so clouded by fury and grief that he could no longer hide what had been broiling beneath the surface of his skin for so long. His eye was wide, his breath hot and heavy, and he gripped Aegon’s collar to lift his brother’s face closer to his own. “You tormented me-! You and those Strong boys, you- for ten years, ten fucking years you and those rats made me suffer while Mother watched, while Father laughed, because no one cares what happens to the second son!”

Something stung his eyes as he raved, his voice wavering with each word he shouted. He did not care anymore who saw, who overheard, only that Aegon saw what he had done to him. “Or did you forget it all? Were you too busy drowning in your cups and sinking into your whores to ever think about how I felt? You-“ Aemond paused, his voice cracking. He wished the anger could remain, but quickly he felt it too slipping through his hands. “You brought me a fucking pig, Aegon.”

"get off of me you fucking twat," aegon hisses through gritted teeth, his hands pushing and hitting at any part of his brother in an attempt to gain the upper hand. it was a useless endeavor, made impossible the moment that aemond was able to grip him by the collar. aegon struggles as aemond overpowers him, his breathing just as rough and sporadic as his brother's. his nostril flared in defiance as he was pulled within inches of his face.

but it seemed that with each word aemond spoke in that wavering voice, his anger slowly dwindled into something far worse. guilt.

for a moment, aegon was no longer looking at his brother as he appeared now. he was staring instead into the eye of a little brother that he had once failed. solemn, despite having claimed the largest dragon in the world, the cut along his eye swollen and red as it was stitched. their mother had asked him in her rage: where were you? exactly where aemond said he was, of course: drowning in his cups. falling short of being the big brother that aemond needed, once again.

the pig was something he never gave a second thought. aemond, it seemed, never stopped carrying the weight of it. "it was a jest, aemond." the words are spoken barely above that of a whisper, his head shaking from side to side as if to reject any explanations of it being more than that. "born out of envy, of boredom." his jaw tightens. "not because i hated you."

"Favors me?" His pitch raised with indignation and in accusation, having given in at last to the rage he had kept deep within for so many years. How dare Aegon stand before him now, bearing both the crown of the Conqueror and his sword, yet claim it is he whom held most of their mother's favor? And Aegon had said it himself—a poor king he would make, an opinion held by most, yet he still was blind to to the truth, that he was always the favored son and would always be? Aegon, named after the man who had conquered Westeros. Aegon, the firstborn and heir to the throne. Aegon, whose name had already been written in history. Aegon, the realm's delight.

"And you still possess both your eyes, so tell me then, why you are so blind to your privilege."

He could not stop now, even if he wanted—and he desperately wanted it—but his mind had become a whirling storm of fury, of grief, of envy, his blood boiling beneath his skin as Aemond struggled in vain to rein in his temper. "Everything I am, everything I have, I earned it, brother. I trained, I studied, I nearly died for my dragon. You? What have you ever done but wait for Mother to give and give and give, swallowing down all which she feeds you? If she loved me, I would not be here. I would be sitting on that throne, ruling the kingdom as I always should have!"

"you are not as bright as you portray yourself to be." the elder of the two does not back down despite the fact that the composure of his brother was beginning to fray. it made him stand taller, his chin tilted upwards in defiance of all that was being said. "you are so blinded by a title, by a birth order, that you do not see the truth as it is before you."

a step is taken in his brother's direction, the space between them slowly disappearing. nostrils flare with irritation as he clenches his jaw, lips pressing into a straight line. "you do not know the half of it. all the times that i have had to hear mother compare me to you all the punishments i've endured on behalf of not treating you as she thought you deserved."

their mother had made it clear to aegon how she felt about the both of them. because of that, he could see no truth in aemond's perspective. "they would kiss the ground you walk on and all the while, i am the first son, the disappointment, that everyone wished was born last. because of you." his hand shoves against aemond's chest in that moment, but there is no real strength behind it. "and i wish the same. i wish it were you that were in this position instead."

Auriel arched a dark brow, eyes of deep violet reflecting beneath the lamplight as she stood in the doorway, one hand resting on her hip as she looked Aerion over. She let another moment of awkward silence stretch between them before she finally entered the room, her silken skirts swishing around her legs with each step she took towards him. Lowering herself into the seat beside him, she plucked the freshly filled goblet from his hand, without ceremony, before he could raise it to his lips, claiming it for herself.

His eyes drifted past his brother, apparently lost in thought. "Are you so eager to die?"

It had been many years now since he looked up to Aegon as though he was an infallible hero, and in those years the love between them waxed and waned until now he hardly knew how to feel about his brother. There was still love, yes, but even more there was turmoil in his heart. Was he envious of Aegon's freedom? Did he loathe his brother's irresponsibility? He did not want to be Aegon by a long stretch, yet he could not help but imagine what could've been had he been the firstborn.

"Celebratory. Mm." His gaze flicked down as Aegon prodded at his chest, and he debated seizing him by his wrist then. It did seem very appealing, and in his years he grew to learn that such was the only way he get through to his brother, save for some divine moments of mental clarity. And so he did, his grip on Aegon firm, but not enough to injure. "You let your guard down too easily, brother. It is of no benefit to me or to the kingdom to see your throat slit in your quarters by the whore of Dragonstone."

I don't want you dead; words he could not say.

he would assume his place on the throne to protect them.

his solemn thoughts were interrupted by the tight grip of aemond's fingers wrapping around his wrist, the golden color of his irises flaring like dragon fire. not even the wine that filled his belly could quell the anger that simmered beneath his skin. but it was not just that, it was much more complicated. it was an emotion he refused to put a name to, let alone convey it willingly through his actions: he was hurt. and it was true what they said... wine had a way of removing ones better judgment.

"not a single one of you ever thought that i could be a good king. not mother," aegon begins. "not father," he continues. "not you." his voice cracks the slightest bit as he snatches his wrist away.