𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 | 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧.

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞. 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

A/N: First of all, Aegon the Third calls Flavius Aēksion in this chapter, which literally means Gold - like a pet name, lmao - in high valyrian. And I know that I usually simply highlight high valyrian with bold, but since it is the POV of the person, who doesn't know this language we do it like this.

And secondly, I am asking everyone to read the after chapter notes till the end, since I've got some interesting (I think?) surprise.

Enjoy your chapter. :)

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From a very young age Flavius knew that life would never be kind to him. He knew it because his mother was cruel to him, streets were cold, the capital rot in war, and strangers were never kind to him. He was sure, almost, that he will spend all his life like this, ending up nothing without anything behind his name.

Or so he thought, before his saviour appeared on the horizon; a big woman with sword on her belt, the Princess, the legend. The situation even sounded surrealistic, not to mention that it could happen to him.

Truth to be told, Flavius knew very little about the Tararyen family, despite their presence always being a constant part of the history. He was uneducated, so all of his knowledge came from his mother, the one that hated them desperately. And to Aelina Tragaryen she was the fondest.

There was clearly some hidden connection between his mother and the crown family, something he never understood, but it was obvious that it was Aegon the Second, who ruined her life.

"She understood me," his mother told him after two bottles of wine, when Flavius asked her to tell him more about the Princess. "She almost... She wanted to help me. If my father didn't... If he didn't say to... To keep it, to keep the beast, I would be free!"

Flavius was a kid, and even as a grown up, he hardly understood what she meant. His mother was a hard person to understand in general, not to mention moments when she was completely wasted. So he never gave much thought to that.

At least, until he didn't see the portrait of Aegon the Second. It was easy to spot the terrible similarity between them. He wasn't entirely stupid, and he knew that his teacher wasn't as well.

Therefore, Flavius assumed that everyone knew everything, but simply never spoke about it aloud.

He was fine with that. He knew that Aelina loved him in a way you could only love a person you consider the part of your family, and though he heard about the cruelty of the usurper king, Flavius didn't mind being related to him if it was what made his teacher to take him under her wing years ago.

He could dwell on this matter all his life, of course. Weeping and turning it into the reason why he hated everyone and everything, maybe even starting to drink like both of his parents, seemed like an easy option. But he didn't follow their steps. Because all of this didn't matter.

And what mattered was that Aelina trusted him. That she cared about him. And the feeling was mutual.

What was his biological father to him? Or mother? They never cared about him, and he wasn't planning to build his personality around it.

He would never allow to destroy himself, because of it. No fucking way.

He got the chance to live. And he used it wisely.

Flavius might look like Aegon the Second, but it meant nothing. Because he knew that he would grow up to be a much better person than him. And the little glint of pride in his teachers' eyes was always the best confirmation for him.

'Ah, and the little beast is already here.'

He sighed internally.

It took some time, but all Targaryens accepted him almost as warmly as twins and Jacaerys did. It was easy to notice from how the former Queen's eyes slowly started to lack the usual suspicion when Flavius took care of her little sons. Or from how often the Lord of Tides started to offer him little walks or dinners more usual.