✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ fourty one ○

☆

When I return from the Sept, I'm surprised to find Aegon waiting for me. He sits in his father’s old chair, hunched over the vast, intricate model of Valyria that Viserys had cherished, his eyes distant and unfocused, as though lost in a world beyond reach.

I step closer, and he glances up, his cheeks flushed with wine. His lips pull into a lopsided smile—a familiar, awkward grin that still manages to surprise me. Once, he couldn’t even look at me.

I try to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

Slowly, Aegon rises, weaving slightly, and closes the distance between us. He rests his head against my shoulder with a heavy sigh. His weight feels both comforting and burdensome, like a weight of sorrow and relief.

"I’ve missed you," he murmurs, his voice softened by drink but edged with a vulnerability he seldom shows.

I wrap my arms around him, taking in the sharp, sweet scent of Arbor gold. Perhaps my prayers are answered, I think, as I press my face into his hair. Perhaps he’s softened, perhaps the Seven have finally turned their gaze upon us, and given him this small mercy.

His hand drifts down to rest on my swollen belly, tentative at first, as though the life within me is something fragile. "It’ll be okay," he slurs, his words heavy but earnest, the wine thick on his breath.

This time, I smile, and the warmth feels genuine.

"Ta-nda," he stumbles over my name, "I’ll let you… ride Sunfyre. Sunfyre, uh, yes." He’s struggling to articulate, his words melting together, but I chuckle softly.

"That would be wonderful," I say, thinking of his golden dragon. "I’ve missed riding; once was not nearly enough."

His expression falters, a flash of something dark and guilty in his eyes. "Vhagar’s being sent… to Rook’s Rest," he mumbles, a faint sadness in his voice.

"Shh," I whisper, placing a hand on his cheek. "Don’t think of that now. Here, you don’t need to be king."

He manages a faint smile, and for a moment, he looks younger, lighter, the weight of the crown softened on his brow.

Together, we make our way to the bed. Though it’s been a month, I can still see the shadows of Viserys in this room—the dimness, the sickly smell that lingered even after they scrubbed it clean. Yet, tonight, as Aegon lays beside me, his arms slipping around my waist, I feel something shift. His chest rises and falls against my back, and his hand rests protectively on my belly, as though anchoring us both.

In the quiet, I feel safe, cocooned in his warmth, the burden of the throne momentarily forgotten.

As sleep finally takes me, it’s the deepest I’ve had in weeks. Here, in the silence and darkness, wrapped in Aegon’s embrace, the shadows seem to melt away. And I wonder if, even with all the terrors that lie ahead, we might find a way through this together.