Perzys Ānogār {HOTD}

lanta ampā

"Oh gods," Aegon's groan echoed through the room. 

"Do you like that, my King?" Visenya asked, panting as her hips moved against his own. 

"Call me that again," he demanded, one hand reaching to the back of her head to grip her hair. 

"My King," she moaned, rolling her hips faster. 

It was the night before Aegon's coronation. He'd paced across their room so much he's almost worn a hole in the carpets. Visenya had tried everything to calm him down, and short of drugging him she had run out of ideas. So, she decided to take him down to the throne room and tire him out in a way befitting of a king, and what better way than to fuck him on the throne he would soon sit. 

Aegon's hand moved to where they were connected, his thumb rubbing circles on that place that made her eyes roll to the back of her head. They moved frantically together, Aegon's hands gripping Visenya's hips tight enough to leave marks as he moved her hips the way he knew she liked. 

Their movements grew feverish, each racing to finish the other. It didn't take long and Visneya's release had her calling out her husband's name. Aegon wasn't far behind, his hips stuttering as he filled her with his spend. 

The two looked at each other, panting as they came down from their highs.

"Ao issi issa dārys," Visenya whispered, capturing her loves lips in a fervent kiss.

You are my King.

"Ao issi issa dāria," he replied breathlessly. 

You are my Queen.

- 

Aegon looked nervous. Handsome, but nervous. He'd hardly said a word all morning as he was dressed, and even now in the carriage to the dragon pit. He was wearing all black, the three headed dragon blazoned on his chest. He had Blackfyre on his belt, would be crowned with the conqueror's crown. 

Visenya wore a black, long sleeve gown with deep green embroidery. A gift from her grandfather, he told her it was for the day she would become queen. She had the warrior queen's tiara on, it was thinly woven Valyrian steel with embedded rubies. She felt like a queen, and today her dreams were coming true. 

"Have the decency to look grateful," Alicent spoke, somewhat sourly. She still hadn't accepted the fate of Rhaenyra, nor the secrecy of certain members of the small council in Aegon's ascension to the throne. "Do you know what has been done to give you this day? In an hour you will be king."

"And my father never wanted this." Aegon replied, slouching in his seat. 

"That's not true," their mother insisted. 

"He had twenty years to name me heir and never did," he countered, "steadfastly, he upheld Rhaenyra's claim." 

"He changed his mind." 

Aegon huffed a laugh, not believing a word she said. "No. He could have, but he never did because he didn't like me." 

"And yet, with his final breath, he whispered to me that you should take his place on the throne." 

Aegon laughed, telling their mother not to toy with him, and yet she insisted that their father wished for Aegon to be king. 

"Listen to me, Aegon," she pleaded, "Your grandfather, the hand, will try to impress upon you that Rhaenyra should be put to the sword. You must reject this counsel. We must not rule with cruelty and callousness. For all her faults she is your sister, your father's daughter-"