✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ thirty one ○

♧

My eyes flutter open as the morning light seeps through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Aegon’s arm lies draped across my exposed chest, his soft, even breaths the only sound breaking the quiet. I watch him for a moment, taking in his unguarded face, softened by sleep. Carefully, I lift his arm and slip out of bed, draping a blanket around myself as I go to select a dress for the day.

Standing before my wardrobe, I hesitate over each choice, each color reminding me of the alliances and loyalties expected of me here. Yellow for House Sunglass, my birth family. Red for House Targaryen, my new family. Green for House Hightower, aligning myself with the queen. Each dress feels heavy with meaning, too fraught with implication. After a moment, I settle on a soft shade of purple—a quiet compromise, a color neither here nor there.

As I pull the dress over my body, I notice it feels tighter than usual, hugging my waist and stomach more closely. I pause, running my hands over the fabric, feeling a strange awareness beneath. Perhaps I’ve gained weight from the rich meals served at court, or perhaps it’s the stress of adapting to life here. I sigh, letting the thought slip away as I begin braiding my hair, though a vague sense of unease lingers, low and gnawing.

Suddenly, a knock at the door jolts me. “Princess Tanda, the queen requests your presence for breakfast in the courtyard,” a knight calls.

“Yes, thank you,” I reply, steadying myself as I glance back at Aegon. He’s still sprawled across the bed, undisturbed by the call of duty, content in his slumber. For a brief moment, I envy the simplicity of his dreams.

The knight leads me down to the courtyard, where Alicent is already seated at a small table set for two. She smiles warmly as I approach, but her gaze is sharp, and I feel a shiver of apprehension under her watchful eyes. I sit across from her, and we begin with polite talk about the weather, the food, the usual empty pleasantries that fill a silence. But there’s a weight in her tone, as though she’s testing the waters for something deeper.

After a few minutes, Alicent sets down her tea and looks at me thoughtfully. “You know, Rhaenyra and I were once very close,” she says, her tone light but guarded.

“Yes, I’ve heard,” I reply, choosing my words with care. “You were good friends once, weren’t you?”

Her face hardens slightly, and she nods. “Yes, but she… changed. And her sons… well, they’re a reflection of that change.” She trails off, her gaze flicking to the distant towers of the Red Keep, as though calculating her next words. “Viserys, bless him, is not the man he was. His illness clouds his mind. He clings to old dreams when there are newer, stronger ones we must consider.”

Her brown eyes meet mine, piercing and unyielding, searching for my reaction. I feel my heart pound, and my hand trembles slightly as I lift my tea, feigning a calmness I don’t feel. My father’s warning resounds in my mind, and I force myself to speak, to give her the answer she wants to hear, even if the words feel like ash on my tongue.

“Perhaps… perhaps you’re right,” I say slowly, measuring each word. “Viserys has grown old. He may not see… clearly anymore.”

I feel a stab of guilt with every syllable, my voice betraying the insincerity I try so desperately to mask. My eyes flick downward, unable to meet her calculating gaze as the lie slips out. Everything in me recoils from these words, but I say them anyway, knowing they are what she expects.

Alicent’s expression softens slightly, and she nods in approval. “Yes, exactly. So much has changed… but I’m glad you can see it as I do.”

She looks at me a moment longer, and I shift in my seat, struggling to steady my breath under her scrutiny. Then, she glances toward the Sept with a faint, satisfied smile. “Well, Tanda, I’m off to pray. Would you like to join me?”

I hesitate, considering whether joining her might earn me some favor. But I feel too unsettled, too drained from the pretense. The thought of her watchful gaze following me through prayer feels unbearable.

“No, thank you, my queen. I was planning to visit the library.”

“Of course.” She stands, her movements graceful, giving me a nod of dismissal before turning to leave.

I exhale slowly as she disappears into the distance, my shoulders slumping as the tension melts away. The taste of my own words lingers, bitter and unfamiliar, and I clutch my hands tightly in my lap, praying silently for forgiveness from the Seven. I feel like I’ve betrayed something sacred, a piece of my own soul. Alicent’s probing words echo in my mind, and I wonder how I can bear to hold this secret from Aegon, from everyone, while pretending to play this game of loyalty and deceit.