✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ fifty four ○

◇

“Have they found them?” I asked, my voice raw, my throat still sore from the screams that had echoed through the halls after my son’s murder.

Aegon walked past me, his eyes flicking briefly to the sleeping form of Maiarys, placed carefully in the cradle the guards had brought to the entrance of the dungeon. She looked so small, so fragile, but she was alive. I had to remind myself of that—she was still here.

“They caught them trying to sail away,” Aegon muttered, his voice hoarse. He paused, running a trembling hand through his hair. “They had him in a sack. A sack, Tanda. Our boy—” His voice broke, and he turned away, pressing his fist to his mouth as if to choke back a sob.

The image he painted shattered me further, but the pain had turned into something else now. A quiet, burning rage that settled in my chest and made my hands tremble. “Take me to them,” I said, my voice shaking but resolute.

Aegon glanced at me, his bloodshot eyes widening slightly. “What are you—”

“Take me to them.”

He didn’t argue. Wordlessly, he gestured to the guards, who opened the heavy wooden door leading to the cells.

The stench hit me first—a foul mix of sweat, filth, and fear. The flickering torchlight illuminated the figures chained to the wall: two men, slumped but still defiant. Cheese, smaller and wiry, lifted his head as I entered, his lips curling into a smirk. Blood remained silent, his dark eyes watching me warily.

“Tanda,” Aegon muttered from behind me, his voice shaky. “We should leave this to the guards. To—”

“No,” I cut him off, stepping forward. My hands clenched at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. “This isn’t for them. This is for Vearys.”

Cheese chuckled, the sound grating. “Ah, the grieving mother,” he said, his voice mocking. “Come to cry over your lost little prince?”

Aegon lunged, his hand flying to his dagger, but I held up a hand to stop him. “No,” I said softly. “Let me.”

I turned to the table of tools. There was no hesitation in my movements as I picked up an iron rod, its weight solid and reassuring in my hands.

“Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice low but steady.

Cheese sneered. “You already know.”

“Say it,” I hissed, stepping closer.

He leaned back against the wall, his smirk widening. “Daemon. Your bitch queen’s husband.”

The confirmation didn’t surprise me, but it still sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through my veins. I gripped the rod tighter, my vision blurring with tears.

“What do you think this will change?” Cheese continued, his tone mocking. “You can’t bring him back. Your boy is gone. A son for a son—”

I swung the rod before he could finish, the force of it colliding with his side. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the cell, and Cheese let out a strangled cry. I didn’t stop. The grief, the rage, the helplessness—they all poured out with each swing.

“Tanda!” Aegon’s voice broke through my haze, but I didn’t look at him.

Cheese’s taunts turned to screams, then to silence. When I finally stopped, my chest heaving, his body was slumped against the wall, lifeless. Blood stared at me, his expression a mixture of fear and resignation.

I dropped the rod, the clang of it hitting the floor ringing in my ears. My hands were stained, trembling as I turned to Aegon.

He was pale, his lips parted, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place—shock, horror, perhaps even understanding.

“They’ll all pay,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Rhaenyra. Daemon. Everyone who had a hand in this.”

Aegon nodded slowly, his gaze shifting to Blood. “We’ll start with them,” he said quietly, though his tone was cold, detached. “But it won’t end there.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine. “We’ll burn them all,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anger. “For Vearys.”

“For Vearys,” I echoed, though the words felt hollow.

As we left the cell, the guards moved to dispose of the body, and I felt Aegon’s hand on my back, guiding me up the stairs. He was trembling, his steps unsteady. When we reached the light, he paused, his head bowing.

“We’re cursed,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “All of us. This... this is what we’ve become.”

I looked at him, his face pale and drawn, and I saw the cracks forming—the weight of grief and guilt crushing him as surely as it was crushing me.

“We have to be strong,” I said, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince. “For Maiarys. For what we’ve lost.”

Aegon nodded, but his eyes were distant, his thoughts somewhere far away.

As I returned to my chambers, the image of Cheese’s lifeless body lingered in my mind, along with the sound of Vearys’s cries. The void in my heart grew deeper, darker, and I knew there would be no turning back.