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CHAPTER TWO:
THE STREETS
OF FLEA BOTTOM
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REYNA STARED AT THE MAN IN A HEAP AT HER FEET.
The Crown Prince was face down with his ass in the air in the streets of Flea Bottom, just a few paces away from where the sewers emptied into the Blackwater Rush.
It was as if the gods were playing a cruel jape.
Prince Aegon himself commanding her to commit treason and help him flee to Essos.
On his dragon.
She was just grateful he was talking about Sunfyre the Golden and not...
Reyna craned her neck, hoping she wouldn't see what she was expecting to see.
It appeared to be a true drunken stupor after all.
He mumbled something about wanting his mother before Reyna rolled her eyes and placed him on her shoulders, the Targaryen remarkably light in her arms.
His hood fell forward, obscuring his high cheekbones and silver hair from the masses.
She stepped back into the shadows as the sound of metal footsteps echoed through the alley.
Her chest pounded, eyes scanning the area for a place to run.
If they stayed here the Gold Cloaks would be the least of her problems.
The winding streets of the slum were familiar to her as she slipped through abandoned stalls and stepped over bodies beginning to wake from their cups. Most of the men had been pickpocketed, cucked, or fucked, but all of them reeked of wine and ale.
Or perhaps that was just her traveling companion, she sniffed.
The man's habits were well known to the servants of the Red Keep, with the Queen shuffling their positions nearly every day to ensure the Prince would not look upon them more than once a sennight.
After the incident with Dyana, the Queen refused to let any female servant into his chambers.
The alleys grew lighter and chatter filled the streets, wooden spoons clinking against wooden bowls as the inhabitants picked up their bowls of brown.
Reyna's stomach churned.
The smell was bad enough. Or perhaps she'd become spoiled in the Red Keep, where the scent of the kitchen was always a mixture of the sage and rosemary used in Mariel's dishes.
The man on her shoulder did not smell like sage and rosemary, nor a bowl of brown.
He reeked of something much worse.
She wondered how long he'd been indulging himself before he'd noticed her.
Whether he'd simply stumbled out of a whorehouse at the right time, or deliberately went looking for her.
She shook the thought from her head.
Reyna stopped before a wooden door underneath an image of a spool and thread and knocked.
A girl with dark eyes and hair opened the door, a disapproving look on her face. "Seven hells, Reyna," Her narrow eyes widened at the figure hanging from her shoulders. Their gazes met once more.
YOU ARE READING
THE OLD THEREBEFORE ︱ AEGON II TARGARYEN
Fanfiction"STRIKING A ROYAL IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE" "YET HERE I AM READY TO LOSE MY HAND FOR IT" A ROYAL PRINCE FINDS HIMSELF INTRIGUED BY THE EVERYDAY RUSTICS. {AEGON II X OC} HOTD S1-???
