His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Sixteen

Author's Note: I was originally going to have this chapter be the feast celebration for Aegon's birthday, but I got carried away with writing some... stuff for our kindred lovers. I hope this quenches your thirst for the main character and Aegon to interact with each other. ;)

Chapter Warnings: Sexual assault, dark sexual themes, angst, covert manipulation. 

"Like a compass needle that points north, a man's accusing finger always finds a woman." - A Thousand Splendid Sun, Khaled Hosseini.

Aegon Targaryen was quick to anger and slow to forgive. This instance was no different. He was angry at you for not protesting as a crown of ruby roses was placed upon your head. He was angry at Ser Dalton Greyjoy for being able to claim the woman he yearned for openly. He was angry at his Mother for planning the damn celebrations that started this whole ordeal in the first place. He was angry at the world for cursing him to live a life of torment.

All of Aegon's life things were just out of reach. The first surviving son of Kings Viserys, but not named heir. The touch from a mother he so loved but meeting the scorn of her hand. He could have everything he desired, but not the woman he loved.

He wanted to forget the path the Gods had chosen for him. Perhaps if he drank from the bottle of honeyed mead waiting for him in his chambers, he could forget the tragedy that was his life. He concluded that fate was cruel and twisted as he downed another and another, his goal seeming out of his grasp no matter how much he swallowed. Soon tears began to follow, painting glittering stripes down his cheeks.

Aegon did not want to be here anymore. He couldn't stand the way the pale red stone walls seemed to taunt him, forever a reminder of his suffering. He did not know where his legs carried him, only following his muscles' unconscious commands. He felt a hiccup cease his body, convulsing as his skin touched the cool night air. He took another swig of his drink only to find no drop left. He threw it aside, stumbling a few paces and collapsing onto dry packed dirt.

You heard the sniveling Prince as you lined your sights with the target in front of you, pulling the string of your longbow taught. Under cover of darkness, you were only allowed to train, a request from the Queen to keep the propriety of her court. Though she refused to admit it aloud, she feared the possible embarrassment you could bring to her sons if Lords and Ladies saw you sharpening your skills and not her boys.

Truthfully, you did not mind the constraints. The nighttime climate made the conditions perfect for strengthening your vision, requiring you to focus on the task rather than letting your mind wander. It was also lovely that you did not have to deal with the stares of being a lady in trousers and a coat instead of a dress.

You wanted to ignore Aegon behind you. He seemed to have not noticed your presence, though you could not deny the way your heart cracked as you heard him release a sob. It would be advantageous to comfort him, but you needed to find out if you could handle playing that role. The remnants of your resentment for his family still seeped from your pores. You inhaled swiftly, the smell of woodsmoke burning in the sky as you placed your quiver and bow onto a rack.

"My Prince." You alerted him, walking over to his trembling form and resting on your knees. "What hurts you so?" you asked, pausing momentarily before brushing away a piece of blonde hair stuck to his face.

Aegon didn't answer with words, crying and moaning something unintelligible as you stroked his head lightly. He sucked in two quick breaths, his arms limply raising as if to touch you before falling to his sides again.

You began to feel actual concern, pulling him into your lap as you held his sobbing body. "Aegon?" you questioned again, hoping to break through his drunken sadness. "My Prince? My sweet, sweet Prince, what causes you so much pain?"