wine red, tears gold - aegon II targaryen

chapter 7. final.

There were few things Lyanna really preferred about King's Landing over Storm's End– it smelled of shit and was riddled with vipers, whereas Storm's End was full of boarish, thick skulled men with blades in place of their brains, less akin to use diplomacy to settle matters but rather their axes.

King's Landing diplomacy was the same in a way, except without axes and with barbed tongues, dripping venom behind each carefully placed word. It was a task in itself to keep sane with the amount of people who tried to get something from her– kissing her hands, sending her beautiful dresses, exotic fruits and honeyed words.

'Sign this, your grace.'

'May I possibly have this, your grace.'

'In exchange, your grace, please, provide us this.'

It was tiring. Soul suckingly so. Some days she felt akin to a lemon with its juices sucked out, nothing left but the skin and seeds and pulp, rotting in the sun. But, she supposed, there was one thing she did like about King's Landing.

The sun.

It was resplendent here, unyielding in its warmth and caress over the gentle waves of the bay, orange and yellow tinge lighting up the horizon. She awoke in the morn, scantily clad, walking to her open balcony– but not quite walking out onto the landing– and basking in the sun like a fat cat, moving with the sun as it made its journey over the sky.

Sometimes Aegon was there, too, following along at her heels like a lost puppy. It was the norm nowadays, over eleven moons since her miscarriage, since Aegon's confession, since his will to turn over a new leaf. Where Lyanna went, Aegon followed. She held him like a child each night, and they would curl into one another– but they had yet to couple since the miscarriage, both of them maintaining a dry spell for the better part of a year.

It was a test, in a way, for Aegon. He had denounced spirits and whores and all manner of sinful things, hardly gracing his own chambers anymore, preferring Lyanna's. But, Aegon was a creature of habit, and always needed something to have, to obsess over as his own. Lyanna was part of that thing, but she kept him at an arm's length emotionally, partaking in only the need for closeness with him in their bed, skin to skin– but never anything beyond it. Soft caresses, arms held together, one tucked into the other. They didn't exchange many words during these times, only gentle sighs and hums of contentment, or nudges of discomfort if one's elbow was poking into the other's ribs.

The other thing Aegon had succumbed to was food– he replaced his daily intake of alcohol with food, and filled out quite nicely in turn. Before, he'd been a scrawny thing, the bulk of his daily caloric intake being just alcohol, and the calories burned off in succession with his rigorous trips to the brothel. But now, he ate three meals, each of them with Lyanna, except for breakfast. Breakfast was still reserved only for Alicent, Lyanna and Jaehaera– Aegon would eat in solitude quickly and wait outside of Alicent's solar, waiting for Lyanna. Where he had shown ribs before, he had gained some mass, filling in his clothes.

Lyanna quite liked him this way, soft and plush– he was nice to lay upon.

She knew that he still had needs, as a man, and the time he'd gone without a woman, only using his own fist for pleasure, was certainly long. She was proud of him, in a way, that he overcame his baser instincts to try and better himself.

But, she felt guilty as well. He would try to make advances, of course, a gentle touch to her bare thigh, a kiss to her neck, an accidental brush to her nipple– all ways that were increasingly enticing for her. She just wasn't ready, and she made him know that and respect it.

This usually ended in him sulking to the privy with his tail between his legs, more likely than not to take himself in his fist.

And so it was, for those months. But a whole year passed since Aeron's passing– the winds were changing.