What started as simple infatuation became a strong, obsessive desire. Aegon Targaryen saw himself conflicted. His enemies daughter was all he wanted, and he would not be denied what he wants.
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𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 furrowed her brows in focus as she sat at the large wooden desk, the rich scent of aged oak mixing with the faint, sharp tang of ink. Her quill scratched softly against the parchment, each stroke deliberate and careful. She was writing her family a letter, a rare opportunity granted by Aegon's unexpected leniency. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across her furrowed brow, highlighting the intense concentration on her face.
She wanted to pour her emotions out, to explain how much she missed them, the ache of their absence gnawing at her daily. Her heart ached as she recounted her grief over the brutal death of her brother Lucerys. She had tried to avenge him, driven by a fire that consumed her every waking moment. The memories of their childhood together, his laughter, and their shared dreams haunted her, and she longed for her family to understand the depth of her sorrow and her relentless quest for justice.
Meanwhile, Aegon lay sprawled on the bed, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were soft with affection as he gazed at the two twin infants cradled on his lap, their tiny chests rising and falling in peaceful slumber. He truly loved his children, a love that filled him with an overwhelming sense of pride and fulfillment. The sight of them brought a rare softness to his features, a stark contrast to the hardness he often wore like armor. As he gently stroked their downy heads, Aegon felt a deep connection to these new lives he had brought into the world, a connection that anchored him amidst the chaos of their lives.
"When are you meant to feed them again? I do enjoy watching you do so," Aegon whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. He glanced at Daella with a playful look in his eyes, his grin broadening into a mischievous smile.
Daella sighed, her quill pausing mid-stroke as she looked up at him. Her eyes met his, a mixture of exasperation and affection flickering in her gaze. "You act like a child," she muttered, shaking her head. Her scoff was light but carried a hint of genuine amusement, betraying the fondness she felt despite her irritation. She turned back to her letter, the parchment now dotted with droplets of ink where her quill had lingered too long.
Aegon shrugged lightly, an easy, carefree gesture. He shifted his attention back to the two infants nestled on his lap, their tiny faces serene in sleep. "At least our children will grow up to love me more for my playfulness," he jested, his tone teasing yet tender. His fingers gently traced the soft curves of the babies' cheeks, his touch featherlight to avoid waking them.
Daella's eyes softened as she glanced at the scene before her. Despite her initial irritation, she couldn't deny the warmth that filled her heart at the sight of Aegon with their children. The room was filled with a quiet, intimate atmosphere, the kind that only family could create. The gentle crackling of the fireplace, the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping infants, and the soft scratch of her quill on parchment all blended into a harmonious symphony of domestic tranquility.
For a moment, Daella allowed herself to imagine a future where their children did indeed grow up surrounded by such playful affection. She imagined laughter filling the halls, the pitter-patter of small feet echoing through the rooms, and the endless joy that family brought. A small smile tugged at her lips as she returned to her letter, the words flowing more easily now as she poured her heart onto the page, buoyed by the love and warmth that surrounded her.
