━━━━ aegon targaryen ii.
she is not her father's daughter and he is not the prince that was promised. and with all the chaos brought by the dance started by their family, there is always each other.
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[aemond]
In a flock of migratory birds, there is always the outlier; the weakest link whose entire purpose exists just to throw off the journey right from the very start. It becomes a drifting wanderer in a desperate sojourn while its kin rises above the clouds, leaving it behind to pursue the world on its own. Imagine everyone's surprise when the famed Targaryens who dominated the realm with their dragons had an outlier in their royal family, a subject meant for the nobles' derision and the bards' more sombre songs. Though the subject of dragonless royals has always sparked debates about whether they were worthy of their name or not, they still managed to conquer the odds and made a name for themselves in history tomes. Yet no matter how Aemond tries reminding himself that he is fit for greater things — a fate no less grand than a dragonrider, he is haunted by the sharp grins the courtiers have or worse, the weight of Father's disappointment and his older half-sister's satisfaction.
The past few days were all within his chambers, which has become a norm for a week since the servants now deliver his meals right in his solar. He has received several visitors throughout his self-isolation but none of them were graced by his presence, choosing instead to mull over the history tomes he requested from the royal library. The most annoying one of these visitors is his older brother, who never seemed to stop pounding on his door despite the frantic pleas of his Kingsguard. Aemond almost always got the same warning from him — that he needed to stop being a twat for everyone else and just shed away his scholarly phase to mingle with the rest of their deranged family (Aegon's words, not his). After a couple of days of silence, Aegon simply gave up. Aemond doesn't know what to feel about it — at one point, he holds hope that maybe his older brother might not hate him that much and when he ceases his pestering, Aemond feels more alone than ever.
The words of his youngest nephew are innocent in their own right, given that the kid is nearing five name days, but they settled deep in Aemond's brain until the toxicity reached the roots of his mind.
"You're the only one without a dragon now, Uncle! Maybe that means you're not really a Targaryen!"
He remembers Jacaerys, his oldest nephew, immediately slamming his hand on his younger brother's mouth before apologising to Aemond, who didn't hear it at all and was already thinking of blending in with the Keep. Just thinking about that memory burns the back of his eyes.
Aemond is about to wallow in another spiel of depreciation when that familiar incessant knocking comes barrelling on his door. He sits up on his bed and remains like that for a couple of minutes — just staring at the entrance of his chambers like it will make the person go away and never come back for the rest of the day (preferably). When the knocking stops in those minutes he spent glaring at the door, Aemond goes back to letting that dark cloud loom over his head. He is about to bury himself in his blankets, fix his blank stare on the Vhagar toy dragon lying on the ground like an abandoned relic, when the knocking starts again like a buzzing mosquito in his ears. Now, this is becoming infuriating. He holds back a groan while flinging the blanket away from his body because this time, it's a miracle a knight hasn't started a ruckus with the person disrupting Aemond's peace of mind with how erratic the knocking has become. In only his inner shirt and breeches, he even forgoes his day boots and opts for his softer slippers, Aemond stomps to the double doors and flings them open himself.
