✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ thirty ○

♡

I step into our chambers, Aegon following close behind—a rare occurrence, as he usually doesn’t return until well past midnight, by which time I’m already asleep. Tonight, he seems restless, his gaze dark and brooding as he trails behind me. I open the chamber doors for him, allowing him to stride past me into the room.

As soon as the door closes, Aegon lets out an aggravated sigh. “My mother, eh? So bloody nosy, always pushing, pressing,” he mutters, his voice rising with each word. “She doesn’t leave me alone for a second in this blasted castle.” There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes me draw back slightly, surprised by his unfiltered frustration.

“Aegon, she loves you,” I reply gently, hoping to soothe him. “She only wants to protect you.” But even as I say it, I’m unsure if these are the words he wants to hear.

His expression hardens, and he clenches his fists. “Protect me? No, she wants me to be something I’m not,” he snaps, his voice raw. Suddenly, he flings his goblet against the wall, and wine splatters in deep red arcs, staining the stone like spilled blood.

I instinctively step closer, reaching out to rest my hands on his shoulders. “Please, Aegon,” I whisper, my touch gentle, hoping it might soothe his rage.

At my words, his fury ebbs, replaced by a haunting sadness that seems to break him open from within. His face crumples, and to my astonishment, tears begin to spill down his cheeks. These aren’t delicate, restrained tears but heavy, uncontainable sobs, raw and unmasked.

“No one understands,” he says, his voice cracking. “Not my mother, not my family… no one sees how wrong I am for all of this. I’m not fit for royalty.”

I reach up and cup his face, gently wiping away his tears with my thumbs. My fingers find their way into his hair, smoothing back the soft, pale strands that fall over his forehead. “It’s alright, Aegon,” I murmur, my voice low and steady. “I’m here. Its okay.”

He leans into my touch, his body wracked with silent, shuddering breaths. Vulnerability shines in his eyes. I guide him toward the bed, sitting down beside him as he clutches onto me, his head resting against my shoulder, his face pressed into the folds of my dress. He’s like a wounded animal, desperate for warmth and reassurance.

After a while, his breathing slows, the storm within him subsiding. He lifts his head, meeting my gaze with red-rimmed eyes. In a moment of raw honesty, he leans forward, capturing my lips in a kiss—soft at first, tentative, as if testing whether I’d pull away. But I don’t. I return the kiss, cradling his face, my fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw as he pulls me closer.

He lays me back on the bed, his touch tender yet charged with a deep need for connection, for comfort. In that moment, Aegon’s walls fall away completely, and he’s just a man, lost and searching, finding solace in our shared vulnerability.

As he draws me into his arms, our breaths mingle, and the world outside fades away. Tonight, in the solitude of our chambers, we hold onto each other, grounding ourselves against the weight of expectation and the burdens we can’t yet speak of. Together, we share a fleeting moment of peace, a sanctuary from the world’s demands.