His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twelve

Author's Note: I hope y'all like this chapter. It's quite the eventful one. I apologize if it's information overload. If it is too much or you have any comments or questions, don't hesitate to ask! It always makes me smile having interactions with everyone. It's one of the reasons I love writing so much on platforms like these. 

Translation Guide: Lykemās: easy, be quiet. 

Chapter Warnings: Description of urination, Angsty girl with unresolved trauma, Violence, Sweet baby girl Aegon.

A cloaked figure stumbled through the alleyways of Kings Landing, bumping into townsfolk and mumbling as the stench of alcohol radiated off his body. Men and children alike turned their heads at the hunched man, their faces covered in disgust as they avoided him. Another poor drunkard from Flea Bottom, they thought, paying him no mind.

A woman, clearly a harlot by the bleached streak of dye in her hair, was speaking to a merchant, stroking vibrantly colored fabric in a suggestive way as the hobbled figure passed. A strand of white caught her eye, hearing the familiar ramblings in her ear. Quickly, she forgot her current mission, slinking away as she ran to her Mistress's home.

The crowned Prince Aegon wandered mindlessly on the merchant Streets of Kings Landing, searching for his next drink in all the wrong places. How low he had become these past few years, moaning and groaning about how unhappy he was and how unfair his life is. He had only wanted one thing in his existence, which was always out of reach.

Love.

Love from his mother, father, brother, sister, you-- from anyone he met.

Aegon did not know why he starved for it or went through the streets at night searching for love. Perhaps during his conception, the Gods decided he would never know what it felt like for someone to stare at him with stars in their eyes, kissing his woes away as they whispered those three words.

"I love you..."

But perhaps not. The most likely reason Aegon never experienced that warm feeling from someone was most evident at this very moment as he felt liquid pool below his stomach.

"Fuck," he mumbled, turning down a corner with far fewer people as he unlaced his soiled trousers between a cluster of wooden crates and barrels.

He could hear those who regrettably crossed his stream shouting in disgust as his piss covered their shoes. How lucky, Aegon justified, they have royal piss on their clothes, not just some common one.

Suddenly, the bright autumn sun disappeared, eclipsing the surrounding area in darkness. Aegon quickly looked up with his eyes squinted and mouth agape, stuffing himself back into his pants. In a flash, the sun was back again, the outline of what could only be a tail soaring above him and out of view.

"Aemond," he snorted, "arrogant prick."

His brother must have taken Vhagar out for a morning stroll. He ignored it, accustomed to his brother's theatrics. Aemond had the largest dragon the world had ever seen. Aegon would've boasted too.

The elder Prince sniffled as if dismissing the thought as he walked into nowhere. If he traveled long enough; eventually, the sweet nectar of Arbor Red would appear in his hands. He would find that taste, no matter that he was actually passed out in the same spot for the past two sun positions.

***

Common folk in the town's square stared at you in awe as you descended the rope ladder down Cannibal's enormous back. You were sure they had never seen a dragon so close before, your Targaryen brethren keeping the beasts deep inside Rhaenys's hill and only letting them soar the skies.