✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ thirty nine ○

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Tanda moved through her days slowly attending her duties—giving charity to the septs, helping arrange marriages for the noble ladies of the court, making her presence known as Queen. Yet each task felt hollow, each bow of respect reminding her she was filling a role she was never meant to take on. Aegon, too, was struggling with the weight of his crown. But there was no going back now. Their paths had been forced together, leaving them caught in a current too swift to resist.

One afternoon, she sat in the castle courtyard, seeking solace in the slanting autumn light, a pitcher of apple juice beside her. A pile of letters lay at her elbow—matters of state, family feuds, requests from houses, each a reminder of the unrest seething just beneath the kingdom’s surface. She picked one up, her gaze skimming across the formal words, though her thoughts were miles away, lost in worry and in silent prayer.

A shadow fell over her, and Ser Davian appeared, bowing respectfully. “My Queen,” he murmured, “the Dowager Queen requests your presence for lunch.”

She fought down a sigh, struggling to keep her irritation in check. “Just me and her?”

“No, my Queen. The King and his siblings, as well as the Hand, will also attend.”

That brightened her spirits a little. It had been some time since they’d all gathered together. She missed Helaena’s quiet presence, Aemond’s sharp gaze, and the rare moments when Aegon would smile in her direction, though those had grown fewer and further between.

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In the dining hall, Tanda and Aegon sat at the head of the table. Aegon was already several drinks deep, the wine adding a flush to his cheeks. Tanda watched him carefully, noting the way he slouched and muttered under his breath, his frustration with the endless pressures of kingship bleeding through the pretense of a relaxed meal.

Helaena sat opposite her, her head bent over her plate, a faint smile on her lips as she murmured to herself, lost in a world of private thoughts. Aemond, as usual, was composed, his gaze flickering over everyone but resting longest on Aegon. The tension between them hung heavy in the air.

“Shall we toast, then?” Aegon raised his goblet in a loose, almost mocking gesture. “To family… and to peace.” He laughed, though the bitterness of it made the toast feel more like an omen than a blessing.

Reluctantly, Tanda lifted her goblet, her mind too aware of the troubles weighing down upon them. She took a small sip, watching the others over the rim of her cup. Aegon’s face was a mask of frustration, his eyes clouded from both wine and worry.

Breaking the silence, Aemond leaned forward, speaking in a low, measured tone, as though the words pained him. “About what happened with Lucerys…” He paused, his eye drifting downward. “It… was not my intention.”

Aegon’s jaw tightened, his gaze sharpening as he looked away. “What’s done is done,” he muttered, his voice taut. “We can’t go back. And we have enough problems ahead without picking apart what’s past.”

Tanda’s hand found its way to Aegon’s, squeezing it gently. He glanced at her, his features softening briefly, though only for a moment before the wine-dark cloud returned.

In that instant, Tanda felt the burden of their future—a weight pressing down on both of them, on all of them. She looked around the table, seeing the frayed threads of her new family, each struggling in their own way. And she thought of her unborn child, caught up in a world that felt both fragile and vicious.

As lunch ended, Tanda quietly excused herself, moving away from the others, her heart still heavy. Before stepping out of the hall, she bowed her head, whispering a brief, private prayer—a plea for strength, for mercy, for the protection of her family, and for the day when they might find peace in the midst of their turmoil.