His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Six

Author's Note: I want to thank everyone for their patience with these updates every two weeks. This schedule works out perfectly for me, and I don't have to disappoint anyone with delays! I've gotten a couple of questions regarding everyone's age for this story which I figured would happen. I kept the ages of everyone vague on purpose. Aegon is between 14-17, Aemond is 11-14, Halaena is 9-11, and the reader is 10-14. No matter what age you pick, they're all still minors. I hope that helped a bit!

Chapter Warnings: A traditional Targaryen family dinner, canon typical violence. 

You had a sense of Deja Vu before the wide entrance of the dining hall, only this time, you were not alone. Next to you was your supposed father. You chewed on your lip nervously, pulling the thin scab that covered your marks from earlier.

So many things were left unanswered you had no idea where to begin. Were you truly his daughter?

Your mother was a prostitute; how could he be sure? How did he not know she was pregnant? That is not an easy thing to hide. How many brothers and sisters did you potentially have, was Daemon the monster Ma believed him to be, and who was watching you now, ready to report back to her?

"This is unnerving," you decided to say, not brave enough to voice your questions yet. He snorted, his eyebrows raising for a moment before he shifted his weight and took your arm in his.

"It is unnecessary, but is that not all customs to those unaware?" You mimicked his expressions but turned your gaze down, retaking your lip between your teeth. "Stop that," he chided as a father would, and you obeyed. You couldn't help it; the feeling came as an instinct.

Two guards opened the doors, and another from inside the dining room announced your presence to the family sitting at the great table. As you walked arm-in-arm with Daemon, you became even more ridged than the crown's sworn protectors.

Six sets of brown and violet eyes turned your way. An urge to channel your anxiety overcame you, but you stopped, remembering your father's -Prince Daemon's- words. You squeezed his thick black sleeve instead, and he glanced down at you, his eyes the same as the others.

Aegon was the first to stand in your presence, almost making your blank expression change, the other five soon following. No longer was his short platinum hair stringy, curls sticking to one another, but were clean, nearly a shade lighter with all the dirt gone. His rags had changed into a dark, emerald green tunic, a golden chain decorated with the same colored gems, and the sigil of House Targaryen embroidered on the chest.

Now that the alcohol had wholly left your system, heat filled your limbs, realizing just how handsome he was. His pouted lips stained a light red from wine, and he had a lively pale face with clear eyes. You were still upset with him. This was all his fault. You could have avoided this if he had kept to himself and gone straight to Madam's brothel instead of stealing you away.

As you and Daemon approached the table, you saw Aegon move from his seat, nearly sprinting to an empty one as he pulled it out. You looked to your father -Daemon- questioning whether or not you should accept Aegon's chivalry. He did not indicate what you should do, so you did the only thing you could do in that situation. Take Aegon's hand.

He kissed the top of it, his violet orbs boring into your slightly panicked ones as a grin graced his lips, helping you into your seat. Though Aegon wanted to sit next to you, he thought better of it, returning to the spot next to his sister wife as he took a swig of his drink.