𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @infamescoronam.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀THE CLOCK READ 4:02 in glimmering white letters against a bleak, black background, before the upward swipe of a thumb opened the most recent message from ben blackwood, which had arrived just minutes prior with a subtle vibration sounding against the fabric it had been buried in, its contents announcing that, though he had ran into some issues with the train carrying him from ravenhall to king's landing, he would be arriving shortly — when the ferry came. riverlanders. hand disappearing beneath the seam of his jacket again, the phone was stored away and replaced with a half-empty pack of cigarettes being withdrawn from the pocket instead, one soon being placed betwixt cold lips and lit, glowing orange embers scantly enough to cast light onto the dark expanse of a vast harbour, silent save for the clanking of near-empty liquor bottles passed between them, the scrape and flick of the lighter igniting and the faint swaying of docked ships and boats. his gaze fell upon the shadowy shape of the siren's whisper before them as he smoked, a sleek cargo ship which had served her purpose well in his grandfather's trade for many decades now, and which, without failure, would dock at driftmark's harbour once a month carrying a plentitude of goods from across the narrow sea that would be distributed to spicetown and across westeros, amongst it a special order placed by none other than his stepfather to his rather questionable, unknown connections in pentos, a secret neither daemon, nor corlys, could have possibly kept from luke for long, even if they had decided to put in the effort — which they likely hadn't, at least not with much vigour, knowing that, in time, he would follow in his grandfather's footsteps and inherit the great empire corlys had worked tirelessly to build since his youth, playing a huge part in making the velaryons one of the wealthiest houses to exist, neither suspecting that he could be doing anything other with the acquired information than perceive it silently and keep his quiet as he would know he was expected to. at times, it felt like betrayal, and it was, truly, even more so since there was no explanation he could readily provide should his grandpa ever discover the truth and question him. why was a question there was no answer to, really — it was not as if they needed the money, having both been born into the wealthiest, most powerful families of all of westeros. therefore it was more of a matter of seeking the thrill, maybe, a twisted pleasure found in doing something forbidden, something dangerous. and dangerous, luke has been chasing his whole life, in the winds and in the waves, though there was no denying the fondness he had in particular of the former, never giving anyone much reason for concern ( until the ‪‘ accident ’, at least, but even that he had come back from, somehow, enough to soothe the worried minds of those closest to him over time ), and in the close bond that had been forged in childhood and carried into adulthood with the uncle who was known for the trouble he seemed to find and cause at every corner. back in the day, those of targaryen descend had been said to be mad, perhaps it was owed to that, perhaps luke had inherited parts of it, and the fierce determination and restless urge to do something stemmed from none other than the famed blood of the dragon, or, perhaps, there had always, for some reason, been something like an underlying death wish buried somewhere deep within him.

the dull thumps of footsteps carrying across the pier caused his gaze to shift, leaving the white-and-blue facade of the towering ship and travelling to the side, soon enough making out the distinct silhouette of someone approaching them, despite the shadows encasing them, someone that could not have possibly been ben when he had mentioned only moments prior that he had yet to arrive in king's landing. and someone that was not a captain or dock worker making a surprising appearance, as he had assumed for a moment, either.

he could tell by the arrogance in his stride alone who it was, even before he came close enough and the dark hood of a long coat fell away from his face, exposing familiar features, bearing the same trace of a self-satisfied grin that he always wore in such moments, moments where he was certain he had caught them redhanded in doing something they should not have been doing, where he thought himself a winner, and that, in his opinion at least, made him appear more than just a little punchable. a cloud greyish smoke passed through lips in a dragged out, exasperated exhale, slowly dispersing in the chilly air as it spread away from his face, vaguely flushed with heat still from the consumed alcohol, a step leading closer to aegon beside him, though the gaze of dark brown eyes never wavered from the approaching figure, a final drag taken before the remaining cigarette was flicked off the dock, landing in the water somewhere out of sight with a quiet splash as he straightened himself whilst he regarded his other uncle, bristling almost, luke rarely one itching to start an unnecessary fight, but certainly not someone to shy away from violence to end them, sensing already then, and knowing from previous, utterly frustrating situations of the same sort, that aemond had likely not come merely to taunt, but to cause needless trouble. “ great, your brother invited himself again. ”

“ now look who we have here. ” aemond's voice then carried across the stillness of the empty harbour, and it did not take any particular set of skills to notice how much he was enjoying this already, “ my brother and my nephew, sneaking around as usual. does daemon know you're wasting his hard-earned money? ”

eyes, glassy from the haze of drink, drew over to their intruder, narrowing as the hood fell away from his brother's face. it was not the first time aemond had taken it upon himself to meddle within their business, a troublesome habit of his that was not one formed out of concern for aegon or luke's wellbeing. rarely did anything come from the goodness of his own heart, for aegon scarcely believed he could do anything with pure intentions. he would not call himself a saint but at the very least he knew how to mind his business. he sometimes had to wonder what he had done to deserve a brother who refused to do the same and instead took every opportunity to sabotage him, while luke was granted brothers who were not half as troublesome, at least not to the two of them. a disgruntled huff of air expelled from his lungs, feeling luke bristling beside him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀FOR A MOMENT, he stood still, regarded his uncle with similar wariness, prepared to reciprocate should he decide to launch an attack right then, to whatever ends, for the throne would still belong to rhaenyra even if the both of them lay dead in a hidden passage, though not necessarily expecting it, as though the part of him that had come to know aegon over the weeks that had passed, could sense that much from observing the way he held himself. “ well, you are a fugitive now. best don't waste any time getting used to it. ” he responded, quietly enough that it would not be overheard from the halls above, and, with another glance cast towards the stairs to assure himself that they would not be followed by any stray guard that might have wandered too far from the more well-known corridors and nooks above their heads that they were currently searching for the former king, he took the lead, brushing past aegon in the tight space and further down the long corridor to where the gaps between the stone walls became even narrower and the ceiling hung lower, ducking under an arch covered in cobwebs that led into the next portion of the lengthy passage, one barely high enough for him to stand up straight inside of. lucerys suddenly slowed then, turning his head across his shoulder, back to aegon, “ i want you to know that it was not my mother who called for your capture. they all but did it on their own. ” granted, rhaenyra had been too stunned to say or do much of anything after reading the letter aegon had left behind and coming to recognise that she no longer would have to fight for her throne as she had assumed still when they had set off from dragonstone earlier that day, something lucerys could only assume must have felt like a trap to her initially, far too easy to possibly be true, owing to the fact that she knew nothing of her son's involvement in all this, but he still felt it was necessary to make it known and at least attempt to convey that his mother was not quite the cruel monster who would all too gladly skewer her half-sibling's heads to pikes, and never had any intentions other than that, even before they had found themselves amidst a war, that she had been made out to be by some, no doubt the dowager queen and her father included, especially if the conversations shared with aegon in the not too distant past were any indication. in his eyes, she was, most of all, a result, as they all were in the still fresh wake of a war that, if this day and aegon's yielding marked the end of it, could have ended on a far bloodier note had lucerys not come to form some kind of bond with his uncle that had ultimately led to his abdication. but the bloodshed had already happened, across many parts of the realm, as had the excruciating losses amongst royalty and smallfolk alike, as the war had taken its course and dragged on painfully for many moons, too many given that none of this should have happened in the first place, and would not have happened had the throne passed to rhaenyra as intended after his grandsire's death, peacefully, and none of that could be made undone anymore, no matter how it all progressed from here, no matter if peace was within reach now, though it would still be difficult to grasp with all that had happened.

he continued, the palm of a hand finding cold, dusty stone and feeling along the wall as the darkness around him became too dense to see much of what laid ahead of him anymore, even as his eyes slowly begun to adjust to it, the dull echo of their steps the only sound in the passage, aside from the occasional rustle of what could only be rats scurrying through the tunnels with them. soon enough, they came to a junction where yet again one passage merged with another, and, oft, depending on what form of transport he had chosen to king's landing that night, when he had slipped in and out of the keep nigh daily to meet with aegon over the course of the bygone moons, he would have gone right here, where he would emerge from the castle near the sea gate, but, this time, he continued ahead.

relearning the history of his family and studying this ancient, surely forgotten map in particular, had been nothing short of interesting, to say the least. whatever maegor had intended for these secret passages other than to allow him a quick and unnoticed escape in the face of danger, this likely was not it — but if he had them built as escape routes for kings, then perhaps he would find some delight in whatever hell he dwelled in now ( although lucerys, at this point in time, would likely find it easier to believe if someone were to tell him that maegor's angry ghost haunted these tunnels than that any gods had decided his fate, having acquired a more intimate acquaintanceship with death than religion ) seeing a former king, albeit no crown ever rightfully had been his, and a future king, who, equally, never should have stood to inherit the iron throne as a secondborn son, if not for the same dire circumstances, make a getaway through these very hidden passages of his.

“ this passage will not take us far, but we will emerge closest to the iron gate. if my mother's guard has not yet taken it over, it will still have yours. i hope you are not all too attached to them. ” but more than that, he hoped that it would be unguarded, that whatever guards had been there earlier had been drawn away by the tumult of dragons descending, bells ringing and the whole of the city breaking into chaos with the arrival of the rightful queen to seize back her throne, and no new ones had yet reached it, too busy seeking the fleeing usurper. because, if not, then he already doubted they could get out of the city unnoticed without spilling any blood.

a fugitive. the notion was enough to bring a wry smile to his lips, for how quickly he could shed the weight of the crown that had been thrust upon his head, as quickly as his mother had enacted her plans. she would not believe his abdication, no matter if she had witnessed him writing it with his own hand, for it seemed to be beyond her understanding that he did not covet the iron throne and had lost any taste for war that he might have temporarily discovered after the losses they had endured, and the little he had gained from it. his family had dwindled down to next to nothing, and he did not want to give his life to it as well. aemond might curse him from the depths of his watery grave, and perhaps he was doing a disservice to the memory of daeron, and countless others who had died before he finally relinquished, but so be it. he would only be living up to what they believed of him anyway, and that did not upset him.

"i would not blame her if she had." she could not know that he did not seek to steal her crown when viserys died, nor could he expect that to excuse the cost of the resulting war even if she had known his initial reluctance. he had let it happen in the end, and had liked it for the shortest time, he would not deny that. to call for his head would be the sensible decision, one that could be justified in the name of ensuring a lasting peace, and he could not say with a certainty that if roles had been reversed, he would not have called for her head. they had each suffered their losses, given too much in the name of this war for it to end with uncertainty, but he hoped that, if she could not assume that he had died somewhere without their knowledge, she might understand that he had no intention of trying to return.

he remained close behind lucerys, unlikely that he would lose his way with his nephew as guide, yet not daring to somehow risk such danger by falling back too far. as much as he did not want to lose his head, it would be a quicker and more favourable fate to the slow death lost in maegor's tunnels with only the rats as a witness to it. otto's cats had not proven to be as effective as the rat catchers, but aegon still felt no particular remorse for that particular decision of his.

[ 1. ] sender steps between receiver and an aggressive stranger, voice low and steady: "walk. away."

[ 2. ] sender teaches receiver self-defense, hands firm on their hips as they adjust their stance.

[ 3. ] sender presses their forehead to receiver's, voice breaking as they murmur, "i don't know how to fix this, but i'm not leaving."

[ 4. ] sender shoves receiver out of the way of a projectile.

[ 5. ] sender combs their fingers through receiver's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, whispering words of comfort.

[ 6. ] sender whispers, “i’ve thought about this all day,” before pinning receiver against a wall for a searing kiss.

[ 7. ] sender wipes away the receiver’s falling tears with their thumb and whispers, “i’m here."

[ 8. ] sender patches up receiver's wounds, hands trembling as they whisper, "you can't keep doing this to me."

[ 9. ] sender shoves receiver into a hiding spot, hissing, "stay here or i’ll kill you myself."

[ 10. ] sender finds receiver drunk at a party, sighing. "let’s get you home."

[ 11. ] sender is discovered sleepwalking by receiver.

[ 12. ] sender steals receiver’s weapon and presses it to their own chest, daring: “go ahead. prove me right.”

[ 13. ] sender ‘accidentally’ flashes receiver while changing, purring, "see something you like?"

[ 14. ] sender whispers, "you’ll ruin me," before biting receiver’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

[ 15. ] sender takes over while receiver is giving themselves stitches, promising to handle it.

[ 16. ] sender frantically grips receiver by the shoulders, "don't you dare close your eyes."

[ 17. ] sender fixes receiver’s crooked [ tie / jewelry ], teasing, "nervous?"

[ 18. ] sender shakes receiver out of a nightmare, comforting them in the aftermath. "same nightmare again?"

[ 19. ] sender brings hot tea and medication to a [ hungover / ill ] receiver.

[ 20. ] sender invites receiver to dance with them, insisting, "what? this song's perfect."

[ 21. ] sender leaves a single rose on receiver’s windshield with a note: "you’re being followed. smile."

[ 22. ] sender pins receiver’s wrists during a sparring match, grinning, "yield."

[ 23. ] sender playfully steals something from receiver, initiating a chase. "come and get it, then."

[ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep."

[ 25. ] receiver returns home only to find sender already there. "finally."

[ 26. ] after a pleasant night out together, sender asks: "can i kiss you goodnight?"

[ 27. ] sender wipes the blood from receiver's face, murmuring, "let's get you cleaned up."

[ 28. ] sender shoves receiver against a vending machine to dodge security, breathless. "act natural."

[ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ LUCERYS' GAZE HAD LINGERED on the spot where daemon had slipped through the door long after their stepfather had left the room. he did this every eve after supper, silently departed after downing the last of the drink in his cup, always with a vague curve visible in the corner of his mouth as he cast a last glance towards the remaining sons within the room, which more oft than not would be aegon and luke, occasionally jace and joffrey as well, even rarer aemond who oft walked off first with a pointed look thrown at them as though he had something better to do than sit and drink with his brothers ( whatever that could be ), disappearing to . . . gods knew where. certainly not to bid his two sons goodnight with a kiss to the forehead and join his wife in bed as any normal husband and father would do. he was up to something, daemon always was. but he was not the only one.

the scraping of the chair next to him against the stone floor as aegon sank into it made him turn his head, hand closing around the cup on the table before him, lifting it to lips for a gulp of the wine it contained. his uncle brother ( that was more what he felt like ) was not wrong in assuming that he could do with something stronger than the red liquid currently sitting within his cup. a quiet huff sounded deep in his throat, before he responded, “ you being that willing to share something makes me wonder if can really be that good. ” the chalice was set down then, elbows bracing against the edge of the table as he turned his head fully towards aegon, voice lowering, curiosity, of course, sparked, “ sure, i am interested. where is that stash of yours? ”

aegon's grin, temporarily, morphed into something of a disgruntled frown at the mere suggestion that he would not be so generous as to share when he had discovered something as magnificent as he had. although magnificent would be a generous word for a liquor that had felt like it might burn a hole in his throat when he had taken a far too generous helping of it, no knowing quite what he had found. had it been aemond then it would be a fair claim to suggest that he would not share anything he deemed too interesting or exciting, for aemond would, one one count, not share the same interest in it, and for the second, would likely use it against him as soon as he saw an opportunity. there was a reason he came to lucerys first out of all their brothers when he had something such as this to share after all. "i won't share it at all if you're going to be like that."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ THE SCRAPE OF THE BOTTLE gliding across wood only reached an end when his own hand came to catch it by the neck and stop it from moving any further, lest it could tumble over the table's edge, soon tipping it and letting the crimson liquid contained within it pour into the silver cup he had grabbed for himself, filling it to the top. “ then i am sure you will survive whatever heartbreak it causes you until you get your hands on another. ”

wine set back down, pale fingers draped around the cup and he leaned back in his seat, the wood creaking faintly under his weight, regarding his uncle with a glance to the side, “ you do not seem to mind. ” though it could sound that way given the previous exchange, he was not referring to the sharing of favoured spirits, rather the company.

lips curled in the barest display of amusement as he regarded nephew throuhg the heavy lidded gaze that suggested he would fare just fine, and would in fact benefit from being denied a cupful or two less wine than he otherwise might have consumed. the latter comment earned a quiet huff of laughter from the back of his throat, shaking his head.

@infamescoronam | continued from here.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ TRUTH BE TOLD, aegon did not make it seem that way. perhaps it was not exactly happiness that he exuded, that would have a wholly different look from what lucerys recalled of such moments, of such sights, rare as they had been of late, but rather contentment. like he was just fine with the life that he lived, seated upon another's throne, wearing a stolen crown, indulging in vices that would likely be doing more bad than good in the long run. and, through that alone, he seemed happy enough, and not only that — he made the act of feigning it look simple. as though a drink could truly chase away the shadows within the mind, cast a light on the gloom many days brought. perhaps it was — to him. but not lucerys. perhaps they were both doomed to always feel this way, like something as simple as happiness was something perpetually beyond reach, albeit in wholly different ways.

“ . . . i had figured as much. ” was said after a moment, followed by silence only broken by the scrape of glass against wood as another bottle of wine was procured and set down upon the table.

he would not go so far as to claim he found no joy in the wearing of a crown, despite the initial distaste he had felt at the suggestion of stealing what belonged to rhaenyra, the crown that had rightfully been hers for the entirety of his life. it sat a little easier when he felt its benefits, when he was appreciated for the decisions he made instead of facing derision alone. yet it never came from his council, or his closest blood, rather making their own plans and schemes and opting to try and enact them without his input or to use him as a pawn within them. the shine of a crown wore away as quickly as the peace that viserys had maintained throughout his reign. he envied his nephew, a thought best kept safely to himself and himself alone, for the position that aegon himself had once held. the second child, not heir to any throne, and perhaps even aegon would find greater comfort still as a mirror to an even younger nephew, where inheritances were even scarcer and expectations lesser.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ HIS STEPSONS WERE CLEVER, daemon would give them that much. to steal large quantities of hard spirits and consume them was one thing — an expected thing, truly, one that daemon ( and anybody who had not spent their youth acting prim and proper within their chambers, never so much as thinking of doing what some would call reckless ) could get behind, even find some amusement in, even if their mother thought otherwise when they discovered them facing the natural, and well-deserved, consequences of their actions later in the eve or the following day. but to take the stolen goods and distribute them, as princes of the realm, who lacked for nothing, moreover, was a whole other, one that was almost impressive — in a way, an absurd way. he'd give the boys their creativity and surprising mercantile talent, and, yet still, despite all of it, they had made the grave mistake of prompting one in their midst to tell on them.

he had almost pitied the boy during the breaking of fast that morrow, ignored and given cold glares by all brothers, even the littlest ones — even uninvolved, gentle helaena had seemed to avoid looking his way. when cups had been set down harshly enough to make the table shake and requested goods had been thrown rather than handed over, daemon had known it would only be a matter of time until their frustrations would turn physical and it had been by sheer luck alone that daemon bore witness to it later in the day.

watching aegon trudge back into the castle after aemond, expectedly, did not take the blow without delivering one in return, whilst the other stormed off elsewhere, disappearing out of his line of sight, he did not bother hiding his amusement.

“ he is. ” he answered with a vague nod of his head, turning and following his stepson into the dimly lit corridor. rhaenyra may sugarcoat aemond's actions, feel the need to protect the boy and insist he had done the right and responsible thing given the situation, even if his brothers may disagree, but not daemon. he saw him for what he was, and for what his siblings saw him too, a snitch. even daemon's own brother, for all his gullibility and lack of fight, would never have done such a thing when they'd been younger, which only could mean that the boy had inherited it from the hightowers. “ has been since he was shitting his tailclouts, i am sure. which only further prompts the question of how four could be so stupid to let someone like him in on their big, dangerous secret? ”

it was little satisfaction to hear his stepfather's agreement, certainly he would find more joy in it if aemond had also been there to hear the words and not only be exposed those more coddling ones of rhaenyra. he wiped at the blood dripping from his nose with his sleeve, wondering how luke can tolerate the nosebleeds that seem to come so readily. only further justification for his disinterest in the fighting and sparring this his brother's seem to take to with much greater enthusiasm. he'd found some thrill in it when the years that separated them were felt more keenly, and he had greater successes with lesser effort, but that appeal had vanished in time.

his expression twisted sourly, the question unwelcome when they are in the midst of suffering the consequences of allowing aemond in, no matter how reasonable it was to query it. he wondered, at times, how the younger brother that was closer to him in blood, was set so far apart from him in so many regards, and those that should, in another time, have been regarded as nephews, were more closely aligned to himself. if aemond had only followed them as children, instead of growing to be contrary, they could have had a much more pleasant time of it now.

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @infamescoronam.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ WHILE LUCERYS HAD KNOWN some, enough to steer the blacks towards a seizing of king's landing that very day, he had known little for certain — aegon could have lied, spoken but hollow words, could have set a trap, could have done anything but what their last exchange, a little over a week ago, had suggested he would do, what luke, over the duration of several moons and countless of secret meetings within the capital, had slowly convinced him of being the right course of action. and he had been prepared for it all, even been, albeit only for a moment, when they had descended on the capital on dragonback and bells had rung out through the streets in warning, more certain of facing a betrayal than his uncle keeping to his word. however, he had. the red keep had seemed strangely quiet when they, at last, had reached and entered it, the throne room vacant, safe for a letter sitting atop of the seat of the iron throne, sealed in the colours the usurper had taken for his banners, penned by his own hand, a fact soon and easily confirmed by the one person he seemed to have entrusted with his intentions. clearly, his uncle had taken careful measures to ensure that its authenticity would be recognised, that it would, without doubt, be recognised as aegon ii yielding the throne to his sister rhaenyra, and, with it, he had disappeared.

it was not at his mother's behest that men streamed out to seek and capture the once usurper king, not initially — it was a suggestion that came from the lord commander of her queensguard, one she, only after a moment's hesitation, had agreed to with a nod the white-cloaked knight had seemed only all too thrilled to see. and so the swarm of guards and queensguard had set off, determinedly searching castle and city for the king who had abdicated, who never should have been king in the first place. whilst his mother had stayed within the throne room, letter clutched in her hand, her son and heir had followed the guards outside, soon discreetly detaching from them and heading down a narrow slope of serpentine stairs and along a dusty, dark corridor to a different part of the castle, one few were aware of, particularly those that were not of targaryen descend, that had no possible ways of knowing of the secret tunnels maegor i had built a century ago.

perhaps they'd gotten to know each other far more closely over the course of the bygone moons than either of them would be able to recognise, much less willing to admit, or, perhaps, aegon had intended to be found, but lucerys discovered his uncle still within castle walls, not too far from the unknown passage he himself had oft used to slip inside the keep during the time of their secret meetings and conversations, unmistakably him, despite the dark hood concealing his features.

“ aegon. ” he said as quick-paced steps slowed, mindful to raise his voice no louder then necessary, aware of the heavy footsteps echoing in the stony corridors located above their heads. for a moment, he merely stood there, gaze latched upon the figure before him, but had he intended to seize the former king himself, deliver him to queens and queensguard and, without doubt, condemn him to execution, or worse, a punishment he easily could push for as son to the queen and heir to the iron throne, break every promise he had made and prove right there that he had only lied for the sake of earning his mother's throne back, that he had been as ingenuine as aegon, too, could have been, but had not, he would've.

instead, with a brief glance thrown behind him and up at the ceiling, from which tiny particles of dust descended with each shuffling of heavy boots above, he stepped closer, the sharp blades at his belt remaining untouched, “ come, we need to get out of here. they are looking for you. ”

it would be a lie if he claimed that he had not considered betraying the tentative trust that had been allowed to form between uncle and nephew over recent moons. it would have been simple to enact a trap, to let slip the agreement he had made and claim it had been a great plan that he had devised to put an end to this war and secure his position upon the throne. he had thought about it numerous times but in the end, he'd never said a word. he did not want the throne. he did not care for it enough to maintain the fight. so much had already been lost in the name of a crown he had never desired, he was not willing to lose his life to it as well. the letter had been penned at the last hour possible, and in the end the words had come easily enough. he would cede the throne to his half-sister, acknowledging the claim she held over his own, and adding his seal. the contents of the letter had remained a guarded secret, but he had ensured that he would have one witness to the validity of its contents so that none could claim rhaenyra had somehow falsified his abdication and removed him in secret. there would still be some to question it, he could not prevent that, but aside from a public announcement, he had few other options.

he had upheld his side of their agreement and it was a matter of waiting to see if lucerys reciprocated. he'd disappeared into the little known passageways once the bells had begun to ring, taking advantage of the chaos that formed in the name of protecting the king, and yet provided him with the perfect opportunity to slip away. then it had been a matter of waiting. it had felt foolish to remain within the walls, yet for now, it was the safest place. he knew, no matter whether his half-sister decided to call for his head or grant him a more merciful fate, there would be those eager to see him fall. they all knew by now that people acted of their own accord when they have the excuse of a war.

violet hues regarded his nephew warily, despite all that had passed between them in their meetings, all too aware that should he have changed his mind, or simply had been playing aegon for a fool the entire time, there would be little he could do to evade whatever fate he had planned for him, unless he managed to kill him first. whatever he found with his searching gaze did not seem to give him cause to fear, the dagger that lay beneath cloak untouched.