Daenora, though a Velaryon in name, was born from seeds so tainted that even the blood of the dragon could not fully cleanse them.
As the issue of the affair of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Criston Cole she is the heir of a twisted legacy - of everything...
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CHAPTER 11 - THE FLEA BOTTOM PRINCESS -
127 AC
"Look at me!" The queen's voice shook the Red Keep. Her iron hand burned with fury as it struck Aegon across the cheek. He didn't flinch in the slightest. The burning sensation on his skin had become his normality. It almost felt strange to him if it wasn't there.
Prince Aegon gave his mother an unimpressed look, preparing himself for the same scolding he got to hear on a daily basis. Despite her visibly fuming in anger, the air had gone cold as soon as Alicent Hightower had entered his bedchamber. He wrapped his blanket tighter around his naked body and sat up.
"You cannot keep up like this!" Alicent yelled, flinging her hands around. The eldest prince expected another slap. While he had certainly tried to prepare himself for the blow a year ago, he didn't even bother anymore. He didn't need to either. Over the course of a year his skin had turned from leather to wood to steel. "Aegon!"
"Mother," he said without even a hint of emotion. The word had lost all its meaning to him if it had ever had one. Though, sometimes he did think of it as an insult.
"Why will you never listen?!" He did listen, he just chose to not care. "How long have you been betrothed? Four years?"
"three and a half," Aegon mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. Her screams made the headache of his hangover hurt more. It was as if they cracked open his skull. Today was a great day to drown in alcohol until the entire wine cellar was empty, he decided. "It's not my fault she's never around."
Another slap landed on his cheek. "This has been your excuse for moons. I've tried to keep her around and you haven't managed a thing! All you do is whore yourself-"
"Alicent," the firm voice of the Hand of the King interrupted the queen's rant about his freetime activities that could have lasted an hour, "I will speak to him."
The seven-and-ten year old needed to suppress a smirk as Queen Alicent stormed out of his chamber. Expectantly, Aegon looked up at his grandsire.
"Your lack of responsibility will cost all of us our heads," Otto Hightower started. His words were the same as his mother's, merely delivered in a much calmer tone.
The Lord of the Street of Silk - how Aegon liked to think of himself - scoffed. "You call that responsibility?"
"It's the part you need to play if you don't want your siblings' heads on spikes."
Even though Aegon liked to pretend the threat was nonexistent, he knew as well as the Hand that it was true. It was the only reason for him to stay in King's Landing. Otherwise, he would have taken Sunfyre and fled to Lys a long while ago. But if Aegon abandoned his family, his siblings would die as soon as Rhaenyra seized the Iron Throne, for they were threats to her rule.
