in the name of what you love || helaena targaryen
Helaena Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader & Aegon II Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader if you squint summary: you stumble onto a conversation that was not meant to be heard by you but the name of your beloved sister raises your curiosity. an insult is thrown and your temper gets the best of you or aegon allows visiting noblemen to insult helaena and violence is your only answer w/c: 5.2k tw: incest, kissing, physical assault, cursing, strained sibling relationship, aegon slander, reader is aegon’s no.1 hater, takes place sometime in s1, no usage of y/n, skin tone and physical features are never discussed. not proof read.
a/n: finally the helaena fic i've been promising myself. self indulgent (just a wee bit cringe lol), something light hearted bc why not? still haven’t caught up on the last couple episodes of s3, i know my heart will not be able to handle it.
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The day had begun as ordinarily as any other day in the Keep, with a broken fast on the balcony of Helaena’s chambers. The sun shines gently as it rises in the sky, a farce of the heat that would soon come.
Aemond sat across from you enjoying an array of fruits as you and Helaena chatted.
“She was quiet forward,” Helaena says a playfulness lingering on her lips
“Gods the desperation was pouring out of her like a river”, you jest, recalling the night before.
Lords and Counts from the Riverland had traveled to King’s Landing to trade and barter some money from the Crown. In good faith the Crown—your mother and grandfather—welcomed them and their families, granting them refuge and a feast. At said feast a daughter of some Lord whose name you could not remember had been fervently pursuing Aemond. She followed him around the entire night, eyes twinkling with awe as if he was a god come to life. Trying to persuade him with far more than just her words.
Helaena smiles, “Like a cat in heat”. You laugh at her words and Aemond soon joins in.
“What unbecoming words! If only mother could hear you” you say through fits of laughter, “And poor little Aemond, subjected to her torturous bosoms all night long”
She laughs, unable to continue eating.
“Had either of you cared to intervene my night would have been less painstaking” Aemond chimes biting down on a grape.
You share a lively smile with Helaena, deciding Aemond had endured enough teasing. Returning your attention onto the food displayed on the table. Happily you bite down on an apple tart and the rest of the morning is spent in idle chatter, discussing inconsequential matters. By the time you’re done Aemond has already left.
“We should go for a dragon ride” you suggest
Helaena shakes her head, “I’m meeting mother, she hates the smell of dragons”
“Mother hates everything”, you retort, “But you will be with me in spirit then”
“Always”, her hand finds yours and she squeezes it gently.
A smile forms on your lips knowing her words rung true. Admittedly you were closer than most sisters, you knew Helaena better than anyone, could identify her from breath alone. Understood how differently her mind worked compared to others, she wasn’t like anyone else. She was like the dawn, mysterious and full of hope. Like the warmth of the sun on a cold day.
The bond you shared transcended the pettiness of politics in court. Countless hours and days attached at the hip doing everything together, running around the Keep simply being girls. She was the other half of your soul, a reflection of yourself and yet nothing like you.
Flesh and blood etched by the other, ribs cracked too share, tears used to nurture, and passions that transcended verbal articulation.
She’s eccentric in the most extraordinary way, her love for the strange and unusual often meant people thought her off putting. Whispers that she was mad and full of whims of fancies followed. Neither of you bothered with the thoughts of inconsequential people, why should dragons care about the opinions of small folk? They did not know either of you and that left them to their own devices to fill the gaps of your personal lives with whatever they deemed scandalous and enticing.
Her marriage to Aegon changed nothing—though you hated that she married him. Aegon would not have been your first choice or Helaena’s you’re sure of it. Yet her marriage ensured she stayed in the Keep, with you. And like the dutiful thoughtful sister you were, you made sure Aegon played his role as her loving husband ensuring he would not be cruel or callous towards your sweet sister.
Though you loved Aegon it was clear he was unworthy of your sister's love and yet he held it. Helaena loved him despite his lackluster performance as a man or his failures as a Targaryen. He was engraved in a crevice of her heart intertwined by the twins they called their own.
While you couldn’t control his consumption of whores and alcohol, you could control how little Helaena witnessed both. She spends most nights in your chambers only ever interacting with Aegon during meal times and royal events. Though you enjoy your little arrangement that all but made Helaena yours, your mother did not. A scowl displayed on her face whenever she saw you whispering to one another, holding hands while taking a stroll, and when she’d find Helaena in your bed.
Although you could hide the reality of your relationship from every living person within the Red Keep, you couldn't fool your mother. She never outright accused either of you of sacrilegious doings but it was all but apparent in the pinch of her brows and squinting eyes that she knew.
She would wake during the hour of the owl in a cold sweat and run to Alicent’s chambers. But quickly she discovered her mother offered little to no comfort despite her best efforts. There was a distance between them, though they stood before one another there was an ocean between them.
By the time you come to the realization that you’ve lost yourself in thought, Helaena is bidding you farewell standing under the frame of her chamber doors. You place a kiss on her cheek, anticipating for nightfall to come. Ready to be consumed by her soft skin, saccharine scent, and warmth.
—
Hours had passed by the time you returned to the Keep, practically bouncing down its halls as the adrenaline of touching the sky still flowed fresh.
It was atop your dragon watching as the world around you fell away that you understood why everyone believed your family to be closer to Gods than man. After all who could deny the might of dragons?
You know you should change, bathe the odor of dragon off but the aroma of the night's supper stops you in your tracks. Your stomach lets its hunger be known with a low growl.
Quickly you turn, detouring towards the kitchens.
Ordinarily the royal family never stepped foot within the kitchens let alone grew personal with its staff, yet you had. Often in your youth hiding from your mother and her precisions, though Helaena did not seem to mind them, you did. Sneaking into the kitchens and munching on fruits and sweets.
You pull your gloves off as you approach, greeting the familiar faces and asking for whatever fruit they had in season to hold you over until dinner. Cheerfully a crisp red apple is placed in your hands and a quick conversation follows. You listen politely as they tell you stories about their families and details of their mundane lives. Once you had your fill of small chatter you bid them farewell and thanks.
Sinking your teeth into the apple you return to your chamber’s, walking leisurely through the halls. The familiar sounds of the Keep is like music to your ears. It’s a choir of clashing metal, rushed footsteps against stone floors, laughter carried by the wind, and fire bellowing as it lights a travelers path.
The song of the Keep is harshly cut off by the sound of crude laughter and shouts. Your eyes immediately search for the culprits, finding them to be a group of young men. You recognize them as the sons and wards of the Lords of the Riverlands, unenthusiastically you go to pass them and continue your trek. But when a familiar crown of white hair moves through the group you’re intrigued.
Aegon stops in his tracks and the group follows, they occupy the entire corridor uncaringly. Curiously you watch them, unsure how or when Aegon had befriended the very men he deemed ill-bred savages. Half intrigued by Aegon’s hypocrisy and your own plain interest you decide to side step behind a pillar. This of course wouldn’t be your first time eavesdropping nor would it be your last.
“Sure my wife is…is plump but it is from child bearing, wh-what do you have to say about yours?”
You catch the afterthoughts of a conversation, unsure exactly what the subject matter entailed.
“What about my wife?” Aegon’s voice retorts
The mention of Helaena shifts your spirits, hating that lowly men would even think of conversing about her.
“She is…interesting” the same voice from before says
An unsettling feeling rests in your gut, the conversation that will follow would not be good and yet you could not bring yourself to walk away.
“Not nearly” you’d heard Aegon speak enough after barrels of wine to know when he was drunk.
Rolling your eyes you take no offense to Aegon's words, it’s a tame insult not nearly as crass when compared to the list of things that had fallen out of his mouth.
“I think what he is trying to say is that your wife suffers from an affliction” a new voice says and the group snickers.
An affliction, you roll your eyes knowing exactly what he was implying, too cowardly to call her mad.
“And what pray tell might that be?”
“Must I spell it out for you? Aegon, she’s dimwitted”
Not cowards then… worse fools. Idiots stumbling through drunken hazes, high off the proximity to power that Aegon provided.
You wish you could say you were surprised to hear Aegon’s laugh, but you weren’t. And it is his transgression that gives the rest of the men permission to follow suit. Their laughter fills the hall much more aggressively, it’s grating and infuriating.
Without thought you step into view, bile in your throat at Aegon’s lack of honor. Growing angry at how easily Aegon allowed others to disparage his wife.
“Princess,” someone quickly says and it is followed by a chorus of greetings and bows.
Aegon straightens the last of his laughs coming out without much pleasure as he’s made aware of your presence. You ignore the bodies of men around you focusing solely on him.
The relationship or lack thereof shared between you had always been one of indifference. He was irresponsible, capricious, and often led by his flights of fancy. You loved him much like you believed Helaena did—out of duty. But you could not be bothered to form or feign a relationship with him.
“What a vile word” you tsk, “And spoken about the princess no less”
Eyes bore into Aegon’s daring him to say something…anything. A silence follows, Aegon keeps his mouth pressed in a thin line, under the weight of your gaze he averts his eyes.
“Is chivalry not taught in the Riverlands?” you ask not expecting an answer and yet you receive one
A half hearted voice, “It is princess”
“It is,” you turn towards the voice, a small boy no older than ten and three, “Well then you lot must have simply forgotten yourselves. Women are to be revered, we are crafted in the image of the mother”
In truth you had never cared for religion, not after years of your mother so fervently thrusting it upon you. Though your words dripped with hypocrisy—a faux devotee claiming moral superiority over another—if ever you were to ask the Seven for help it would be for matters involving Helaena.
A laugh emerges from beside the young boy; it's guttural and almost like a howl.
“Image of the mother,” he repeats mockingly, “How much more of this must we endure? T’was a jest, one the prince had no objection with”
The stranger's outburst takes you by surprise, “I beg your pardon?” you ask a mixture of animosity and disbelief.
“The prince had no objections,” he repeats, “Your sister is no more a dimwit—“
The word rings in your ears as soon as it leaves his mouth. Anger tastes bitter in your mouth, his drunken indulgence resulting in a loose tongue. Every possible rational thought is crushed under the weight of your anger. All you’re able to process is the feeling of your first clenching, finger nails pressing crescent moons into the soft skin of your palm.
His mouth moves yet you hear none of the words, the smug smirk that sits on his face is your final straw. In a blink of an eye your fist is raised, the swiftness of your arm cuts through the air as your knuckles make contact with his cheek.
Pain spreads through your hand as your bones rattle from the force of the strike. The sounds of gasps and metal cement the reality of your actions—you had just struck him yet not an inkling of regret can be felt.
You watch him as he holds his face as skin beneath his fingers begins to bruise. The intricate pattern of your ring is imprinted on his skin—your house sigil.
In a sudden motion a hand grabs your arm pulling you away as you hear Aegon usher a slew of complaints and objections. But you hear none of them as you’re both being dragged away by the clanking of metal.
The cold fingers of Ser Erryk are firmly pulling you away from the commotion you had caused. The knight's sudden appearance does not surprise you, Ser Erryk often followed Aegon from the shadows.
“Princess are you alright?” Ser Erryk asks
You don’t respond, eyes glued to the drunken idiot Ser Erryk held. Aegon doesn’t say a word accustomed to his knights interference.
Pulling your arm away from his hold you indignantly walk beside him, “Fine, I’m fine Ser Erryk”
For the time being you ignore the throbbing of your knuckles, the swelling would begin to bruise soon enough.
You’re not surprised when Ser Erryk leads you to your chambers though you are surprised when he and Aegon step inside.
Drunkenly he moves towards the divan that sits before your hearth, uncaringly kicking his boots off and tracking dirt all over your rug. His actions should send you into a fit of ire but mud on your rug seems inconsequential when compared to the issue at hand.
The princess struck a Lord! And what punishment will become her? The voices of Flea Bottom cry.
You sit at your tea table carefully watching Aegon, searching for something. The pain from your knuckles pulses and heats your entire hand but your eyes never waver.
His hair falls over his face messily, eyes hidden as if each strand was protecting his face. Cheeks a gentle pink that looked to be kissed on, lips delicately shaped in a pout, and eyes shining with melancholy. Pathetic.
Your search is for naught, as the doors to your chambers burst open. Thundering footsteps storm inside, with a breath you prepare for the verbal lashing that would come from your mother. To your luck, it is your grandfather followed by Ser Arryk who crosses your threshold.
He moves towards you in a cloud of solemnity, the coat he wears trailing behind him.
“Grandfather,” you greet with a half smile. To the realm your grandfather was a man of esteem, concisely curt, and humorless. The most powerful man in all the seven kingdoms—the hand of the king—-not to be trifled with. After all everyone knew who truly ran the realm.
To you of course he was all of those things and more, he was gentle and caring full of a kindness and wisdom which was solely reserved for you and Helaena. You understood why people feared him yet never shared their fear.
His furrowed brows give away the emotions he worked so hard to conceal. Concern is painted on his face as he cups your cheeks inspecting you for any injury.
You raise your wounded hand, “A bruised hand nothing fatal”
His hands drop as they quickly grab your hand, “Have a maester brought at once” he orders Ser Arryk
When the door closes he lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping, “What were you thinking?” he chastises with no real anger in his word
“Of Helaena” you respond truthfully
His eyebrows drop as his eyes fill with understanding, “My sweet girl”.
Your lips curve into a smile, you and Helaena had always been his sweet girls. Relief beats in your chest, if there was anyone in all the capital who would understand it was your grandfather.
“It was wrong, I know” you begin explaining, “But he spoke ill of Helaena”
“So you hit him?” Aegon voice chimes, posing himself righteously. Using his pacifism as a cloak of virtuous upstanding…as if he was any sort of guiding light for morality.
Your grandfather’s head snaps in Aegon’s direction, eyes sharp, “And where were you when your sister was viciously attacked?”
Aegon sulks back into the divan in response, your grandfather shakes his head as he does so. Grumbling something disapprovingly along the lines of ‘that boy’. His attention returns to you, face softening, he’s about to open his mouth to speak when your chamber doors open again.
Luck has finally decided to abandon you as your mother hastily makes her entrance. Her eyes shining with worry, they spot Aegon first before landing on you. In short steps she’s beside Aegon, firmly gripping his face, mirroring her father’s early actions yet without the gentle care.
“Your son is unscathed,” he says with displeasure, “Your daughter on the other hand has suffered an injury” his emphasis has you biting the inside of your cheek.
Her eyes pierce through his, having none of his implication. Deliberately she moves towards you, repeating the same actions she had performed on Aegon. Her touch is foreign and the gentleness she is using is not out of love.
She sighs, crossing her arms disapprovingly, “What happened?”
Your explanation is short and concise, making sure to draw a picture of how useless Aegon had been. He huffs and groans at your words and you can feel irritation climbing up your spine, you should have hit him instead.
When you’ve finished speaking he opens his mouth, “It was a jest he did not mean it”
Your eyes narrow turning to face him, a humorless laugh falls from your lips, “He insults your wife and you call it a jest”
Aegon stands and as if mimicking you narrows his eyes, “What would you have me done? Kill him?”
Your grandfather lets out a chuckle, your mother tries to step in but neither of you pay her any mind.
“She is your wife, your sister and yet you hold not a candle of respect for her”, you spit, “You really are a fucking imbecile”
“Me? An imbecile? You hit him yet I am the imbecile?” he shakes his head
“Yes you are” you bite back
“Enough,” finally your mother’s voice is able to cut through, her eyes shift between the two of you, “I will hear no more of this,” she pauses, “We were nearly rid of them and their avarice demands and now we have no choice but to meet them. The crown will fund their ill advised venture and you’ll apologize and make a show of your sincerest apologies”
Her words fill you with a poisonous spurn, you can’t stop yourself from opening your mouth, “I am reprimanded while Aegon defends the band of knaves”
“Reprimanded? The consequences of your actions are not a reprimand. You will apologize” she repeats
A scoff, “I’d rather fling myself from the tower of the hand, than apologize to that cunt”
She clasps her hands holding herself sternly and unmoving, “Then do it,”
You waver under her gaze, her words forcing you to swallow your pride. She awaits for another response, but received none, your indignant silence is sufficient answer
“Until then you will apologize to the boy and his family”
It’s an order you cannot disobey, not since the crown is paying for your actions. Surely your grandfather will not be content with the matter.
You bite your tongue and nod in acknowledgment, mind beginning to swirl. Whispers of your outburst would surely reach the ears of the realm soon enough and how quickly would the rumor that you were simply a spoiled princess who could do as she pleased without repercussions be reinforced.
She doesn’t bother with a goodbye, her agitation is apparent in the way she smoothes her dress. Arms dropping to her sides as she took her leave.
Defeatedly you return to sit at your tea table feeling as though you're a babe again being chastised for having an extra sweet. Yet no amount of scolding or atonement would ever make you regret what you had done.
“Don’t you worry I shall deal with those fools,” he pauses as he approaches you, “While the crown will survive I am not yet convinced your pride will,” he reassures and teases all in the same breath.
You find comfort in the knowledge that your grandfather would always be on your side, regardless of the circumstances.
He kisses the top of your head, “I often forget there’s a dragon beneath your skin” he smiles as he leaves.
Aegon does not move or even so much as flinch when the wooden doors close.
“Is there not some hole waiting for you to die in it?”
He laughs but has no chance to respond as the doors open again. More visitors. Your gaze turns expectedly, perhaps by some miracle your father had gathered enough strength to berate you further. That would be a sight.
To your great surprise and relief it is Helaena, clad in turquoise she rushes to your side. The smile that spreads upon your lips is a stark contrast to the frown she wears. You stand to meet her.
And when she finally stands before you brows heavy with worry and eyes shining with distress she speaks, “Mother said you were involved in some sort of a spat”
You nod inconspicuously hiding your hands behind your back, lest she see them and faint from concern, “I’m alright”
Her eyes shift and you know she doesn’t believe you. And as if to pull the truth from you she lifts her hands towards your face, her palm warm against your cheek.
The truth continues to hide but you offer her a soft smile and she relents. Moving towards Aegon to assess him for injuries as well.
Annoyance bubbles in your stomach. He had been so blatantly uncaring towards her, let men speak ill of her and yet her kindness towards him never yielded.
“Helaena he is fine,” you huff out walking towards your bed, “The only injury he’s suffering from is his pride” you sit upon it
“You would know” Aegon retorts and you roll your eyes
Helaena caresses his face the same way she had yours, eyes as soft and caring. And as if to add insult to injury Aegon leans towards her touch. You avert your gaze bile rising in your throat.
“Helaena,” you call for her having enough of Aegon holding her attention. She turns to you, hand still caressing Aegon’s cheek. A silent plea rests on your face knowing she could seldom refuse you.
She moves towards you the length of her dress flowing behind her.
She sits beside you, “You should not have hit him” she says pulling your hands out from your lap
You smile sheepishly after having been discovered, “Why not?”
You expect her to smile, to laugh, to go along with your antics instead a sharp look of sternness paints her face, pinched brows and a frown you’d often seen when adults spoke to troublesome children.
“It was cruel”
“Cruel?” you ask in disbelief, “Helaena, his words were cruel. He spoke about you crassly and you think me cruel?”
Her lips pressed together in a tight line, eyes shining full of disapproval leaving you floundering—opening your mouth to continue your defense but quickly shutting it. You would not win against Helaena, a truth you both knew.
Defeated, you close your eyes, taking a breath as you focus on the feeling of her hands in your lap.
Finally you meet her eyes again, “You’re upset with me”, an understatement.
For a moment her brows soften, “You could have been seriously injured. What if he had struck you in return?”
“Then he’d go without a hand,” you tease despite her discontent
“They were only words”, she says earnestly with a tender squeeze of your hands and as you feel the warmth of her hand in yours, you’re certain you’d go to war for her.
Her gaze is unrelenting and you let out a breath, there was no winning against Helaena, “Though you may not approve of my actions, I will never apologize for upholding your name” you say truthfully
She watches you for a moment in the way only she could, it’s a look you’d seen all your life. A look that cuts through your flesh laying waste to your form as she peeled away the layers of your being and peered into your soul.
Eventually a small smile spreads on her lips, “I know, I did not expect you too”
Her smile is infectious as the corners of your mouth begin to turn and like the moon pulls the tides, Helaena draws you in.
“Though perhaps we should work on your temperance”, there’s a kittenish timbre in her voice
You laugh, “My temperance would not need work were the Keep not surrounded by bumbling oafs”,
Her thumb gently traces the bruise that sprawls across your knuckles and the simple action leaves the rest of the world to fall away. You’re entirely consumed by her, letting her soft touch and warm eyes wash away the events of the day. Neither of you speaks, not daring to disturb the comfortable silence that fills the room.
Your eyes fall over the expanse of her face, it’s an image you’d never tire of seeing. You could close your eyes and still vividly see the vision of her beauty.
As you’re lost in admiration she leans in and it’s her breath on your lips that pulls you from your thoughts.
“There is no one in this keep who is more worthy of respect than you” you say breathlessly.
She smiles, “Oh what sweet words you string along when trying to climb out of the hole you buried yourself in”. You laugh not bothering with a response but instead closing the gap that separated you.
Her lips move against yours. They're soft and taste like strawberries. Her hand gently cups your cheek as she guides you through the kiss. You’d always allowed her full control over your escapades, always gave her full control to do with you as she pleased. A submittance reserved only for her.
Your hands move to pull her towards you, wanting nothing more than to have her pressed beneath you. Ready to pull at the strings that kept her dress together, but the sound of sudden laughter prevents you from doing so. Abruptly pulling back down to earth away from the heaven that was Helaena’s touch. She turns towards the sound and reluctantly you do the same.
Aegon, of course, feigns a smile as he makes his descent towards the two of you. You had all but forgotten about him.
“She’s my wife,” Aegon says, grabbing Helaena’s arm pulling her out of your grasp. Without struggle or arguments she stands and Aegon makes quick work of turning her towards him. “You are my wife”
You huff out in annoyance, his display of faux jealousy doing nothing stir you.
“Yes of course Aegon” she says
“Mine” he says, pressing the palms of his hands on her cheeks bringing her lips towards his. You almost want to laugh in disbelief, shaking your head as you look away. The scene that was unfolding was sickening.
She indulges him, kissing him much like she had you; gentle, slow, and with reverence. He’s deliberately tender and cautious like you, allowing Helaena to dictate the pace. Their kiss is long, much longer than the one you shared. And though you wish you could say she was simply performing her wifely duties, you knew better. Despite everything, Helaena still loved him.
“You’ve had your fun, leave us”, having enough of his tantrum you finally speak
At your words Helaena gently pushes Aegon away.
His eyes shot to yours, annoyance clear on his brow, “If I am being made to leave, as will my wife”. He begins to move, pulling Helaena with him.
With swiftness you stand grabbing onto her free arm, impeding their departure, “You are being made to leave not my sister”
Aegon scoffs, eyes narrowing to meet yours, “If I am not welcomed in your chambers, neither is my wife”
His repetition of ownership over Helaena drives you mad. Without letting go of her you step towards him, “Find yourself a barrel of wine and drown yourself in it”
A laugh, “Happily” he yanks Helaena but again your grasp stops her. His eyes fell over where you held her. He steps towards you, “You may believe yourself entitled to everything but not this. Not her”
“Enough” you hear Helaena say but neither of you relent.
You mimic his movement, “You are nothing but a spineless coward” your words are sharp
With every insult thrown you grow closer, you hadn’t realized it until Aegon’s breath was hot against your skin. The familiarity of his scent invades your nostrils, wine and pinewood.
“You are nothing but a spoiled princess”, his words cut your flesh with ease, Aegon always knew exactly how to hurt you.
Heat rises in your chest, a thick mixture of anger and resent climbs up your throat. With a breath you steady yourself, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he succeeded in his injury.
Silence settles over the room as his eyes intently hold yours, expression unreadable. You want nothing more than to wrap your hands around his throat until he’s a mess of tears and stuttering apologies.
You’re sure Aegon’s thoughts are much the same… and yet something in his iris’ changes. His eyes move across your face. He’s studying you in a way you never knew he could. Though anger still circulates your veins, curiosity begins to seep through.
His eyes shift lower and lower on your face until they fall on your lips. You want to move back, to move as far away from him as you could. But your body betrays you, keeping you stuck in place.
It happens in a blink, Aegon closes the gap pressing his lips against yours. His one simple action gives way for the dam of subsided emotions to rise again. Anger, hate, disappointment, shame, and confusion all wash over you.
You know you shouldn’t but your body betrays you, through the whirlwind of sentiments your lips move against his. The kiss is sloppy, hungry, and desperate—it’s Aegon personified. His want and need all but drip out of him and if you weren’t in such a delirious state you’d surely ridicule him for it. Always so easily made to unravel.
You indulge in him for a moment longer before your teeth sink onto his bottom lip. You would never admit you enjoyed it after all your anger would not dissipate so easily, “You’re pathetic”
You push him away and he whines in pain bringing his hand to cover his mouth, you watch as small droplets of blood fall onto his fingers. Aegon meets your gaze and you prepare for a barrage of insults. Yet none escaped his lips instead a conniving smirk spread across his face.
“Fighting over our sister's affections I see” Aemond’s voice announces his presence.
