His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Seven

Author's Note: I just wanted to start by saying thank you, and I'm sorry. Life has been so hectic these past few weeks. I met a guy, and we dated. Then we broke up, celebrated my birthday, got another job added to my current one, and got invited to parties while trying to care for myself, which is already a struggle. It may take some time, but this story will be finished! Everything is planned out; I have to write it. I promise!

Chapter Warnings: Misogyny, sexism, blood supremacy, the iconic dinner scene. 

After the much-awaited arrival of your family came, it quickly went. The Keep was a buzz with a tense thickness of worry for what would come. With the petition of Vaemond Velaryon for the Driftwood throne and the other faction of Targaryen's appearing, the Lords and Ladies of the Court were anxious. The last time the entirety of the House of The Dragon was together, a Prince was maimed, and a Princess was cut, creating an irreparable divide.

You thought nothing of it. The court was always tense in your presence. What was the added chance of another physical confrontation?

Rhaenyra had sent you to fetch your brothers, saying she needed a moment to gather her bearings after being away for so long. You bid her farewell as you strolled along the stone halls, already having a place in mind for where the troublesome duo could be.

As you suspected, the boys were in the training yard, Jace enthusiastically wielding a short sword and showcasing a prideful stance to Luke. Rolling your eyes, you descended the stone steps, focusing on not tripping as your brothers approached a crowd of cheering onlookers. You had your suspicions of who would be within the circle, cautiously hurrying your slippered feet.

Just as you were moments away from pulling Luke, a smooth timber carried throughout the yard.

"Nephews, have you come to train?" the One-Eyed Prince asked. You knew the query was rhetorical, swiftly pushing yourself between your brothers and taking their hands.

You challenged Aemond with the firm line of your mouth, an arched brow within your hard stare. Before either of you could think to do something foolish, the thundering creak of the courtyard doors opened, revealing Lord Vaemond and his entourage of blue-grey seahorse banners.

Instinctively, you put Lucerys behind you, the sword Daemon gifted you hidden beneath your cloak of crimson and black. Both your brothers clutched at your hand as if it were the only thing keeping them from withering under their Great Uncle's stare, and perhaps it was. You heard a chuckle from behind, your head quickly snapping at Aemond to fix him with a stern look.

"Come, brothers," you announced, tugging their larger fists in yours, "let us find Mother before we must attend this farce."

Jace and Luke followed solemnly behind. The elder hunched over with a wrinkled brow, the younger desperately clinging onto you like a babe to its rattle.

***

The Great Hall was bustling with the sounds of anxious voices. All the court members were gathered in a display of what you could only think to be an attempt at public embarrassment by the Greens. Petitions such as these only required some of the Lords and Ladies to be in attendance, yet here they were, making a chilled and open space incredibly stuffy and small.

The Iron Throne stood imposing with its presence, the swords of Aegon the Conquerer's enemies smelted into a seat that could cut those who came too close to its rug of pointed metal.

Your Father was conversing with Rhaenyra, his strong fists clasped over his stomach, leaning into your Mother's ear. Lucerys was at her side, his slender fingers picking at each other as he cowered beneath his cloak. Rhaena and Jace were beside you, and you glanced at your half-sister, her white hair knotted into thick, cylindrical locks piled atop her head. She nodded toward your brother, and you stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his more petite body.