OF BASTARDS & DRAGONS || Aenar Targaryen [1]

110 • BLOOD OF THE DRAGON

ONE MONTH LATER

Finally bound to three women by law. Aenar had only hoped, his life went smoothly. It's been one month since he married Vaemond's ex wife and House Velaryon seemed insulted by the gesture. Especially Vaemond Velaryon. The fool now having to bow to Queen Berenice, gave Aenar so much joy as he secretly plots to have the murderer of Francesa killed.

Standing in the throne room, the King stared at the object that gave the chamber its name. The emotions that battled in his head were at odds with one another, and it left him with no chance of understanding his true feelings when it came to the mighty chair.

He was yet to sit upon it, a strange state of affairs that no one else had brought up yet. But she was sure that those questions would be put to her before long.

A ghost sat there whenever she looked at it. Her grandsire and brother's legacy weighed heavy on his shoulders, a problem he'd originally thought he wouldn't have been affected by.

After all, he'd spent his life knowing that he would one day take the crown, which meant the pressure shouldn't have been eating away at him now. But it had been easy to approach the situation with stubborn naivety before finally having the power in her hands.

Now the true duty and obligation began to protect the work Viserys had done, to build upon those foundations he'd left behind.

Another ghost also threatened to distract him, though it was one that hadn't been conjured by the gods. His own mind had created the vision of Alicent on the throne, a fantasy Aenar had assumed he'd worked past by bringing the other woman closer to her side than ever before.

But, whenever he thought about the throne, he saw the twisted reality that spoke of Alicent's death, and she wondered whether sitting upon it would set that fate in stone.

He knew that Daemon was approaching before he properly announced his arrival. He had a certain gait that Aenar had come to know, a petulant stomp he'd designed to convince people that he was in charge of whichever location he found himself in.

The King had to give him credit where it was due, for the tactic normally worked. But he would also be the first to tell him that it wasn't going to be quite as effective where he was concerned.

His brother represented just as much of a conundrum as the throne did, and whatever conversation he had planned, he would need to approach it carefully.

Aenar had done well to keep their interactions to a minimum, with many of them coming whilst they were part of a larger group.

When they were alone, he felt as if he needed to watch every word, like Daemon was waiting to catch him out. What his ultimate goal was, he was yet to figure that out.

"All plans to sail to Dorne will execute in three days." Daemon announced. He stood beside Aenar for a moment, following her line of sight. "Why do I get the sense that you're scared of the monstrosity?"

"Scared? What do I have to be scared of?"

"That's what I'm asking you. I'm yet to see you on that infernal thing."

"I haven't had any reason to sit on it, yet," Aenar argued. "It's not as if we've been entertaining travelling lords and ladies. I wish that it were a time for tourneys and celebrations, but that would be a case of sticking our heads in the sand."

"It is a time of celebration. Your wedding banquet to commensurate your marriage with three Queen Consort. As for having a reason to sit on the throne...you claimed it Aenar. It belongs to you, now. You conquered the city."