✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ thirty six ○

☆

As they lead Aegon from the room, Tanda follows closely, her hand instinctively returning to her stomach, as if by sheer will she could shield her unborn child from the storm gathering around them. Her heart twists at the sight of Aegon, the boy she married—flawed and fractured, but human—being dragged toward a fate he never wanted. And yet, here he was, being forced to shoulder the weight of a realm on his unwilling back.

They reach the throne room just before dawn, the light creeping in faint and cold, casting eerie shadows across the stone. The empty silence of the hall echoes, filling the space with a dread that seeps into Tanda’s very bones. The weight of the moment hangs heavy, pressing down like a physical force. She can see the hastily assembled court, the lords and ladies who had been woken in the dead of night, their faces a mixture of fear and expectation. They look to Aegon as if he alone holds their salvation, a terrifying responsibility he has no choice but to bear.

As he’s brought to the center of the room, Aegon’s gaze shifts briefly to Tanda, and she sees the fear he’s desperately trying to mask with defiance. It makes her ache for him. She steps closer, a silent vow in her heart to stand by his side no matter what comes next.

Alicent approaches her son, the weight of years etched into her features, her eyes both proud and desperate. She gestures to the guards, who release Aegon’s arms, and holds out the crown that once belonged to Viserys, her hands trembling slightly as she presents it to him.

But Aegon stares at the crown, his eyes narrowing in disdain. “You may crown me, Mother, but that does not make me a king,” he mutters, his voice cold. Alicent’s face tightens, but she says nothing, and with a resolute expression, she places the crown on his head.

A murmur ripples through the hall as Aegon stands, the new king before his silent court. Tanda watches him, her heart in turmoil. She cannot ignore the pang of guilt that gnaws at her—guilt for her role in this, for standing by while he was forced into a role he despised. She wonders if she has betrayed him in some way, quietly urging him to take on a burden he can barely bear.

Aegon’s gaze sweeps the room, the weight of the crown pressing down, and for a brief, terrible moment, his eyes settle on her. There’s a glint of something that makes her stomach clench—a mixture of blame and regret, as if he, too, feels betrayed. Her hand tightens over her stomach. If this was her doing, if their child was part of the reason he felt trapped here, she didn’t know if she could forgive herself.

The crowd begins to murmur as he raises his head, lifting his gaze to meet the throng gathered around. The cheers are hesitant at first, then swelling, but Tanda can feel the unease beneath them. This isn’t joy or triumph; it’s desperation, a last, frantic attempt to cling to some semblance of order.

Just as the crowd quiets, a sudden, jarring rumble reverberates through the hall, and a shadow passes over them. The great doors burst open, and the mighty dragon Meleys looms there, the Red Queen’s crimson scales glinting in the dim light, a terrifying sight of raw, untamed power. Rhaenys, a woman with iron in her spine and fire in her blood, sits astride the dragon, her gaze cold and defiant. A gasp spreads through the court as Meleys steps into the room, a challenge made flesh.

Tanda’s blood runs cold, but instinct alone drives her forward, stepping between Aegon and the dragon. The weight of her unborn child within her, the life she’s barely begun to feel, stirs a ferocity in her she never knew she possessed. She stands her ground, her heart hammering as she faces Rhaenys’s silent, unyielding challenge.

“Please,” Tanda murmurs, her voice steady though her hands tremble, her gaze fixed on Rhaenys. “This need not end in bloodshed.”

For a long, unbearable moment, Rhaenys’s gaze shifts between her and Aegon, a flicker of sorrow in her expression, as if she’s bearing witness to a tragedy already in motion. Then, with a final, piercing look, Rhaenys turns Meleys and flies off, leaving the hall in stunned silence, a reminder of the flames that could be unleashed at any moment.

As the dust settles, Tanda lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, her body taut with relief and exhaustion. But when she turns to Aegon, she sees the shadow that has settled over him, the realization of what lies ahead.

Aegon reaches out, pulling her to him, his grip both desperate and resigned. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, his voice raw.

She places a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath her palm. “I will protect you, Aegon,” she murmurs, her voice laced with determination. “No matter what.”

But as she holds him, the fear gnaws at her. She realizes that this crown has changed everything, that their lives are on the cusp of something dark and deadly. The world she is bringing their child into is no longer just fraught with uncertainty—it’s a world on fire, a realm where her love and loyalty may not be enough to keep them all safe. And in her heart, beneath the resolve, lingers a terrible, whispering fear: that she may lose everything she loves before it even truly begins.