wine red, tears gold - aegon II targaryen

chapter 5.

Warmth. She had been so snugly pressed to Aegon, her body riddled in hickies and bites, just reveling in his warmth. He smelled so nice, too— mayhaps it was just her cloudy, lust-dumb mind, but she felt so... at peace. As if this was where she was meant to be for once. Lyanna, for the first time, didn't doubt that maybe Aegon did want her, in some proximity or fashion.

But then it was cold. She was asleep when he left, but her body noticed the change right away. Curling into herself autonomously, she clutched a pillow in the empty space where her husband had left.

She deluded herself into thinking that this was some sort of turning point, right? He hadn't gone out to the Silk Street since their first encounter upon her wardrobe seat, had he? Then with their multiple, raucous sessions the night before—

When she awoke, he was gone. Lyanna tried to convince herself that he rose early. A quick query to one of the keep's servants quickly brought the truth to fruition; Aegon had left the Keep late at night, towards his places of habit.

Oh.

Oh.

There was a sting of hurt in the pit of her belly— but surely, he could've been going to other places. There are many more night activities in King's Landing than just whoring, right?

She found her answer later in the day as she was returning to her solar from a luncheon with some courtiers. Aegon was passing her in the corridor— his eyes were red rimmed, hair a mess. He didn't smell pleasant like the night before, but of cheap booze and even cheaper, strong scented perfumes. He didn't even go to the effort to hide the prominent bite marks upon his neck.

Lyanna hadn't bitten him the night before.

As they passed in the hall, their eyes connected. Lyanna had gone her entire day giving him the benefit of the doubt, as she imagined that people were too quick to write off Aegon, too quick to judge. The passion and fervor of him the previous night— surely it wasn't faked? He... he seemed quite impassioned about it all, just as she— she didn't misremember the look of warmth in his eyes, unless she was blinded at the time with sheer joy, her brain shutting out the things that might've seemed wrong.

The look of pure shame and self-loathing in Aegon's eyes told her everything she needed to know.

They didn't say anything to each other and Lyanna nor Aegon stopped their walk, merely slowed down their gaits to observe. The entire moment felt surreal for the Queen as she took in every minute detail, every piece of evidence from his night out.

Aegon, in turn, zeroed in on her eyes. The darkest of browns, almost black in their hue— it was so easy to get lost in them, like two huge pools of thick, voided ichor. But they weren't so all encompassingly dark now, as there was a sheen of wetness upon them like a film. Tears rimmed her lash line, threatening to spill over.

The times that Aegon has made her cry was certainly outweighing the times he's made her laugh.

How very typical of him. Just another thing to add to the list of fuck ups in his life, he thought. He couldn't even bring himself to apologize. He just kept up his pace, even quickening it.

Off to ruminate in his agony of his own creation.

—

Lyanna was stuck in her melancholies— feeling sickly all the while. And still, something within her, brought to life by their one night of passion, wanted Aegon's attention. She craved it, no less, like a warrior craves the swing of a blade or a whore craves the tinkling of coin.

So for the next few moons, she scratched the itch within her, bringing Aegon to her bed by any means necessary. More times than not, it was by igniting his blood with jealousy. Other times, it was by intercepting his nightly traipsing and having him come back to her chambers with a few well placed, and vulgar, words.