𝑺𝑼𝑵𝑩𝑳𝑬𝑫.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐃 :  selective, private, book / show / headcanon based  𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 from 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄  &  𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 / 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍. dead dove / mature content. mv / crossover friendly. crowned by ⌗𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐒.  see rules before following. ©

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃 | 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 | 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 | 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 | 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

king renly baratheon. prince daeron targaryen. lord loreon lannister.

they wouldn't stop him from continuing to break.

the thought of giving into the urge to break something—someone he favored, frightened aegon. why wouldn't it frighten this man ? did he think the king was unable to feel anything worse than lust, or did he overestimate the glass pedestal he was currently placed on ?

he had broken sturdier things.

he had lost the favor of more divine beings—if he ever had it to begin with. mother. helaena. the gods.

what's one more wreckage ?

he should do it. he should have him arrested. no trial, his treason lay plain enough. he should call for the guards. he should have him dragged to the dragonpit. see if he's still laughing at him then. he should—

aegon became aware of the deafening thudding of his own heart in his ears, his chest rising & falling a bit faster than it should have. all it took was one last sweet promise, one he hoped the lord was not incapable of keeping, and the king could see colors beyond scorching red again.

i am the realm, he still thought to himself petulantly. he always did resent the idea of having to see his favorite toys in others' hands—even the ones he knew he would break sooner or later.

he swallowed back the venom then. he did want to keep playing, for now.

"i too wish to serve the realm," he began, sounding milder than he felt. fingers coiling around the man's sword belt like hungry little serpents.

"i wish to keep my people and my family safe. that is all i ever wanted, that is why i let them place that accursed thing upon my head, but it's so ..." a shaky sigh spilled from shapely lips. fingers giving the belt a slow tug. "i need people like you on my side, i need to stop my foes from making the realm bleed simply because they think themselves entitled to everything the gods put upon this world. i know she does. and if they somehow turn you against me once you're there ... our next meeting will not be in this room but on the battlefield, and i won't hesitate to burn you like i must burn the pretender."

this time it was a smile the gruesome thought prompted. his hand remained where it was. entitled.

his mother's love felt less like that of the mother above, and more like that of the warrior.

& still it did not make him any braver.

it showed—it would always show. his face always an open book with letters so large they could be read across any hall. pale brows knitted, chin trembling, shoulders sunken, the very picture of an early defeat for his fear had already won—it would always win.

but so would his mother's love.

her hand—so small & gentle, was still but a gauntlet against his blotched cheek. its purpose clear & frightening. the faraway look in his eyes, however, began to shift as he listened. a newfound conviction making the magenta pools shine with something other than trepidation.

i have believed it from the first moment i held you in my arms.

faith.

not in some metaphorical weapon or an unseen force, but simply in him. tears fell, & for once they felt warm. without rising from his seat he wrapped his arms around his mother's waist, holding on as though his very life depended on it. it felt like it did.

"i believe in you too, mother," his confession spilled with ease like molten honey. his most earnest offerings, only at her altar.

"if you truly think this to be the only way ... then i shall do it. as long as you don't—"

he trailed off, the sudden conviction fading from his voice & taking up a more juvenile shade again as he pulled away slightly to look up at her. desperate to be soothed, to be armed—he saw little difference by now.