✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ nineteen ○

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Tanda tried to ignore Aegon’s antics, allowing herself a brief moment of calm. When Jacaerys Velaryon, Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son, approached and asked her for a dance, she accepted with a polite smile, taking his hand as he led her onto the floor.

As they moved to the music, Jacaerys’s hand held hers with a touch of hesitance. He moved a bit clumsily, but Tanda appreciated the effort, while she danced with practiced grace from the countless lessons her septa had drilled into her.

After a moment, Jacaerys broke the silence. "What do you think of my uncle?"

Tanda’s smile wavered slightly. "I don’t know my husband well," she replied softly, choosing her words carefully, "but I suppose I will soon enough."

A slight smirk crossed his face, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. "Maybe it’s better that way."

A twinge of defensiveness surprised her. Aegon was her husband, the man the Seven had bound her to, even if he was as difficult to know as the mysteries of the Old Gods. "I’m sure not," she replied, keeping her voice light though her tone held a slight edge.

As the music came to an end, she offered Jacaerys a respectful curtsy. "Thank you for the dance, my prince." She reminded herself that, when King Viserys’s reign ended, Princess Rhaenyra would be queen—and one day, Jacaerys would be heir to the Iron Throne. In this hall, alliances mattered as much as family ties.

Returning to her seat, she noticed Aegon’s simmering gaze fixed on her. His face was flushed from drink, and as she neared, he gripped her wrist with unexpected firmness.

"You shouldn’t be dancing with bastards," he muttered, his voice low and venomous.

Ignoring the sting of his words, she leaned close and whispered, "Then dance with me yourself."

Aegon blinked, taken aback by her boldness, before a lazy grin stretched across his face. He rose, and together, they joined the dancers once more.

This time, the music was softer, slower—more intimate. He placed a hand at her waist, drawing her closer than before, his other arm resting heavily around her shoulder. She felt the weight of his presence and allowed herself to relax into his arms, ignoring the strong scent of wine on his breath.

"You know," he murmured, voice slurred and deepened by drink, "there’s to be a bedding ceremony, wife."

Her heartbeat quickened, but she forced herself to stay composed. "Yes, I know. My father spoke of it. Who will be watching for you?"

Aegon scoffed. "My father," he replied with a sneer, disdain written across his face.

"When will it begin?" she asked, attempting to hold onto her newfound confidence.

"Ten minutes, if my grandfather has his way," he laughed, a mocking edge in his tone, softened only by his drunkenness.

As the song ended, they returned to their seats. This time, Tanda reached for the wine jug herself, taking a long, bracing sip. She whispered a prayer to the Mother for strength and to the Maiden for courage. Whatever her husband’s faults, the Seven had bound them together, and surely the gods would look after her in this union, even if Aegon himself seemed adrift in wine and mischief.

Her gaze shifted to Princess Rhaenyra, who sat with her family, a reminder of her place as King Viserys’s chosen heir. This hall was filled with quiet loyalties and whispered alliances, and Tanda felt the weight of her own duty settle deeper. This was her family now, and in faith and purpose, she would stand by them—even if Aegon’s path remained tangled in shadow.