His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Nine

Author's Note: Thank y'all so much for your patience! I apologize that the chapter is up late. Life has been bonkers lately, but I'm relieved and happy with this chapter. I honestly can't believe I've been writing this story for a year. Thank you so much for sticking with me through those who have joined along the way and those who are reading in real time! This will be the last mildly angsty chapter, so be prepared. ;)

Chapter Warnings: Larys Strong, subby Aegon, manipulation, wiki of ice and fire is my only source of info here, sexual harassment. 

"I have given everything and received scraps in return and you expect no fury?" -
T.J. Pen, A Woman Scorned.

"This simply cannot be," Queen Alicent said to the slumped man before her, picking at her emerald dress sleeves and gnawing her plump lip.

The Queen was in a chaotic state. Her loose chestnut hair cascaded in a waterfall of waves, the tips dusting her delicate waist. She hadn't changed from the high-necked gown she wore to the petition. There wasn't a moment to herself since the promises of her old friend, immediately heading to care for the King as any dutiful wife under the Seven would.

The collar constricted Alicent's throat as she swallowed, pulling at the fabric to steady her breathing. "My son," she stuttered, mind reeling, "my son has fathered bastards in the slums of Flea Bottom, and now he beds one. This cannot be."

Lord Larys stared into the disarranged Queen, the whites of her nails non-existent as he leaned onto his able side, thumb absentmindedly stroking the ornate firefly head of his cane. The Strong Lord was unperturbed by his ally's abrupt appearance at the hour of the owl. He would never turn away his Queen when she was in need.

"You surely cannot be so shocked, Your Grace," he expressed, dark brow lowered. "She is born of sin, her Mother a whore. 'Tis in her blood."

Alicent was unsure of how to respond. She couldn't deny your heritage. Larys' words were correct. You were born out of a harlot's womb, of a sinner's seed. Your existence stained the Targaryen legacy, a shadow in the Seven's divine light. She advised the King that the first legitimization of a bastard would tear the kingdom's order apart and ruin years of established precedent, but he would not listen. The Queen should've known. It was not her place. The man named a woman the heir to the Iron Throne.

"He is my son. I only wish to see the best in him. I have turned a blind eye to his," Alicent paused, tucking her plush lips into her teeth, "disgraceful actions, but Prince Daemon's child... his favorite daughter."

"The young Princess has made herself a hearth in the Keep, Your Grace. She sees herself as above her station. My spiders have told me whispers of what occupies her time as of late."

Lord Larys leaned across the foot table that separated him from the Queen before pulling back, swiping his pink tongue to wet his mouth. Alicent mirrored his movements, an invisible string tethering her to the Master of Whispers. "Please, Lord Strong, speak freely."

The mousy-faced man smiled, his countenance flickering in the dim candlelight. "I do not wish to spread ill of the Princess, Your Grace. I am a man of honor, but what my spiders have said..."

The Queen's doe eyes widened in concern as her brows furrowed. She did not care about the events of the past. Larys was not the honorable man he claimed, but her mind's dark fantasies blinded her from any reason.

"The Princess sends ravens to her Father divulging private Council matters, she sharpens her blade with bodies, 'tis only a matter of time until the King passes and Princess Rhaenyra is crowned." The taste of copper flooded Alicent's tongue, the tang nearly choking her. "The girl is a pawn for her Father and Rhaenyra plans to make her the Hand. What do you imagine will happen when Aegon's mere existence seeks to undermine her claim?"