selcouth | aegon targaryen (ii)

chapter twelve

"My prince, my lady," Lord Stark bowed his head. "It was an honour to have you here with us. We shall not forget your help and interest with the Northern matters."

Hyacinth sighed when Aegon squeezed her hand, a gesture that meant he wanted to leave immediately. She could tell he was tired, there was no doubt. After their meal, he was accompanied to attend the meetings once again, while she waited with Lady Sarah. It was a pleasant afternoon for her, since Lady Sarah walked with her around the castle while telling her some intriguing gossip about Winterfell. 

Aegon, on the other hand, didn't seem to enjoy his afternoon as much as her, for he left the meeting as soon as the matter was settled and found Hyacinth gazing at a snowy garden with Lady Sarah. He didn't hesitate before grabbing her hand and telling her they would be leaving immediately. She recalled his exact words and she believed Sarah would to for the rest of her life, "Let's fucking leave before I call Sunfyre to burn these Northern cunts."

Despite being accustomed to the Northerners' wild manners, Lady Sarah was still surprised by the fiery temperament of the Targaryen prince.

Knowing there was no way to dissuade Aegon from leaving Winterfell, she said her goodbyes to Lady Sarah and promised to write soon. That was how they found themselves at the gates of Winterfell, Sunfyre towering behind them. A few lords and ladies from Winterfell gathered to express their gratitude, their eyes shifting nervously toward Sunfyre, who occasionally let out a screech, mirroring his rider's impatience.

"We are the ones who should thank you for receiving us so warmly," Hyacinth said with a small smile. "I am sure the King would appreciate a visit from you soon."

Lord Stark nodded his head, "Yes, you can wait for us, my lady. But I should warn you that it is not as easy for us to travel as it is for you. It will take us a couple of fortnights."

"Yes, we understand," she answered. 

"Farewell."

With the formalities exchanged, Aegon wasted no time, seizing Hyacinth by the arm and guiding her away with urgency. They hastened towards Sunfyre, the golden dragon standing majestic and impatient, its restlessness palpable in the cold air of Winterfell.

Hyacinth cast a nervous glance toward the magnificent beast, her voice tinged with concern, "Aegon, shouldn't you tell him to calm down? He seems agitated."

Aegon, seemingly unfazed by the dragon's restlessness, responded with assurance, "Just climb." His hands found their place on her hips, providing the support she needed to ascend towards the leather straddle. Though anxiety gripped her, Aegon's demeanor remained composed. He swiftly climbed the ropes, positioning himself behind her on the dragon's massive straddle. "Calm down," he murmured, encircling her with his arms.

As Hyacinth settled onto the dragon's back, she couldn't help but wonder about Aegon's way of touching. It was something she found puzzling. Aegon was known for seeking comfort through physical contact, especially when he felt uneasy. Whether it was his mother or sister, he always reached out for reassurance. What stood out was how easily he touched even those he barely knew.

Hyacinth questioned whether this touchy habit was just a reflex, a natural response to his own emotions, or if there was a deeper meaning to it. It was clear to her that Aegon's touch was like a language, conveying various emotions and intentions. There was a vulnerability in his touch that contradicted his usual confident demeanor.

Aegon loved to touch and that provably explained why he preferred the company of whores, those who would never refuse to touch him and those who would allow him to touch them in any way he wanted.