Aegon Targaryen was over family meetings. Especially funerals.
It's not like he ever knew Laena Velaryon. Sure, he had heard her name a couple of times, due to the fact that his bitch of a half-sister was married to Laena's homosexual brother, but he had never truly met the woman. He felt no sense of kinship, and therefore rued the fact that his mother and father dragged him here.
What's worse was that Aemond and Helaena had been dragged along too. Though they were his full siblings, he felt no more close with them than he was with Rhaenyra, and his relationship with his older half-sister was practically in ruins the day he was born. It never got better.
He had met Rhaenyra's bastards a couple of times. Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey. All three of them had brown hair and brown eyes. He had never met the oldest of the brood, Daenerys, who was around Aemond's age or a year younger. Rumours said that Rhaenyra was too overprotective of her only daughter to let her leave Dragonstone or Driftmark. Rumours also said that Daenerys was beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman that had ever graced the Seven Kingdoms.
Aegon heavily doubted that. Some rumours said so for countless plain women. For Aegon never really felt anything towards women except the need to fuck them hard.
The carriage screeched to a halt, and Aegon could tell that they had arrived at Driftmark through the worried look on his mother's face. She seemed more preoccupied than usual, almost fearful. Perhaps it was Rhaenyra's presence that made her more jumpy. Aegon had made that observation years ago in King's Landing.
Servants said that once his mother was very beautiful, especially as a young maiden, and that as soon as she married the King and conceived him, Aegon, all her beauty vanished. Aegon disagreed with the last statement. His mother was still beautiful, she was just older, with more worry lines that she should have. Aegon winced, thinking that some of them had been caused by him. He was not the best at following orders, or keeping still, or keeping his reputation perfect and princely.
"Aegon. We're here." Alicent Hightower, the Queen and his mother, told him.
He rolled his eyes, perhaps with a great deal of exaggeration, but in this case, he told himself that it was needed.
"I can tell, Mother. It looks even more bleary and grim than the descriptions led us to believe. Fancy that happening," he sneered.
His mother slaps him. Of course she does. At this point, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to Aegon. She had slapped him for years on end, and whilst in the beginning Aegon blamed it on himself, on his own shortcomings, he quickly discovered that his mother wasn't entirely blameless either. Sure, he provoked her and pushed her past her limit, but mothers shouldn't slap their children. Especially not just the one, and sparing the two others.
Aegon kept on telling himself that. Better than the alternative.
"When we enter, it will be like enemy territory. The Velaryons want Rhaenyra on the throne, not you. And if you tell me one more time you do not want the throne, I will not hesitate to slap you again. I am tired, Aegon, of you denying yourself your birthright. As soon as we enter, you will try and act as prim and as princely as possible. Do you understand me?" she thundered.
He put a hand on his reddened cheek, which he knew was going to bruise in a couple of days.
"If you wanted to slap me, you should've done that at King's Landing. Now I have to cover it up," he complained.
Alicent froze, and Aegon could tell he had made a good point. She gently put her hand on his cheek, but Aegon knew it was not just a gesture of affection. Sure enough, when she took it off, it was to take one of her creams to apply on it. Maybe something that covered it up, maybe something that prevented it from bruising, Aegon didn't care. All he could think of was that coming to Driftmark had been a stupid endeavour, and that he cursed his father for dragging all of them to the funeral.
They stepped out of the carriage together, ever the facade of the perfect family, though they were probably the family in Westeros that was farthest from that ideal. Targaryens shared one common personality trait amongst themselves: they were great actors.
Hightowers, Aegon had discovered, were not much different.
Aemond stepped forward. Of course he did. He was their mother's favourite, always training or attending his lessons, the very opposite of Aegon, who could not give a bigger damn what House Martell's words were, or what House Stark's sigil looked like. He'd rather have a bottle of wine and a pretty girl on his lap than all of that learning required of a prince. Sometimes he rued the day the Seven chose him to become a prince. He thought that they had seriously misjudged his character.
But unworthy princes got the throne all the time. It's just they didn't have an older half-sister whom their father had declared his heir years prior.
For if Aemond was the Queen's favourite, the King's favourite was by far his eldest child. Aegon never knew why. Rhaenyra had born three bastards and had passed them off as Velaryons, perhaps four if her girl was one. She had practically sullied her name in front of all of Westeros, and yet refused to back down.
The King dismounted his horse, but he did not acknowledge the Queen, nor Aemond, nor Aegon. All he acknowledged was a woman, tall and graceful, with silver blonde hair cascading down her back and beautiful violet eyes.
"Rhaenyra!" Aegon's father cried.
Rhaenyra embraced their father in a most unladylike fashion, but Aegon blamed that on the fact that she adored him and he adored her. Aegon had never felt loved by his father, but he did not doubt that Rhaenyra had since the minute she was born. The only grievance she had ever caused their father was being born a girl.
For if she had been a boy, Aegon would probably not even be here. Nor Helaena, nor Aemond.
They had been spares when they were conceived, stayed spares when they were born and would always be the spares House Targaryen needed in case some freak accident happened and all of his half-sister's line was wiped out. Which Aegon very much hoped would happen. Not because he wanted the throne, but because he wanted Rhaenyra dead. Fancy seeing his father after that. He'd probably be bawling his eyes out.
Rhaenyra hastily greeted Aegon in a cold, detached manner, and did the same to Aemond and Alicent. Never had Rhaenyra cared for her younger half-brothers, and Alicent and Rhaenyra had hated each other the moment Viserys had married Alicent. Their once strong friendship had withered into a deep resentment of one another.
Aegon loved that. One more grievance towards his mother.
Behind Rhaenyra was of course those three bastard boys. They were quite nice, and Aegon even went so far as to say occasionally that he liked Jacaerys, but they stuck out like three sore thumbs. All three had brown hair and brown eyes, and though Aegon supposed they were handsome enough, they were so unbearably common. An insult to both House Targaryen and House Velaryon.
Aegon didn't understand why Rhaenyra insisted on them not being bastards. Everyone except Corlys Velaryon and King Viserys saw it as clear as day. The two men preferred to turn a blind eye on the boys' doubtful parentage, though, looking at the master-at-arms standing near them, it was possible that they were Ser Harwin Strong's bastards. They certainly looked similar enough.
"So, Rhaenyra, where is the granddaughter I have never met?" Aegon's father came near Rhaenyra once again.
Aegon was tempted to roll his eyes. It's not like Daenerys was particularly important. Sure, Rhaenyra's protectiveness of her was quite funny, considering the girl had not been once to King's Landing, but they did not need to see her immediately. Looking at his mother and Aemond, it was clear that they thought the same.
A flicker of something came across Rhaenyra's face, and Aegon was surprised to discern . . . was it fear? Why would she fear for her daughter when they were at Driftmark? Unless she was also a bastard?
"I believe she's in the library, Father. She does enjoy reading about Valyria. But first, you must rest-"
"Rhaenyra. Show her to me." Viserys cut his daughter off.
Aegon was surprised to hear that. Viserys was usually very lenient with his eldest daughter, and indeed let her have her own way about things in a way he did not permit his younger children. But he must be bursting to see the girl.
And as much as Aegon would wish to deny it, he wanted to see her too.
Rhaenyra sighed, and motioned for a servant to be brought. A young boy of about twelve or thirteen stepped forward, and she whispered something to him, something indiscernable even to Viserys' ears, Aegon noted. The boy nodded, and ran off.
"She will come soon, Father. In the mean time, won't you all rest in the hall? It will be better, and Lord and Lady Velaryon are . . . not in a state to receive guests right now."
Rhaenyra chose her words carefully, but Aegon could see underneath it. They were probably crying for their dead daughter. He didn't blame them either. He did not wish losing a child on anyone, except perhaps Rhaenyra, but that was it. It was a hard thing to live through.
They all installed themselves in the hall, and Aegon spotted the glare Rhaenyra threw his way. He also did not miss the glare she sent to Alicent, to Helaena and to Aemond. Wouldn't that woman ever learn decency? Or secrecy?
Suddenly, all conversations were interrupted by the boy coming back. He was followed quickly by . . .
Aegon could feel his jaw dropping. Indeed, the girl who came behind the boy was probably the most beautiful, most exquisite girl he had ever seen in his life. Her white-gold hair was in waves so perfect he could imagine the ocean in her hair. Her eyes were violet, pure violet, a violet so deep and beautiful that he was tempted to drown in them. Her milky complexion was unmarred and seemed to make her glow. She was, in every way, beautiful.
He glanced around him, and saw that he was not the only one to have succumbed to her beauty. All women except Rhaenyra and Helaena looked livid at the beauty standing before them, and all men, including Viserys, were staring at her, jaw dropped.
The girl did not blush. She did not cower. She did not relish in it, either. She simply ignored the looks and sat down beside her mother. Her gesture was regal and elegant, but seemed so natural in her case that Aegon wanted to cry. He had never seen a girl so elegant and so graceful naturally, but then again the girl seemed otherworldly.
"Father. This is Daenerys, my firstborn. Daenerys, this is your grandfather, the King. Those are your uncles Aegon and Aemond, and your aunt Helaena." Rhaenyra excluded Alicent from her introduction, but at this point Aegon did not even care.
All he could see was Daenerys, and he loved the fact that he was the first one she looked at. He also loved the little smile that appeared on her face, no more than a twitch of the lip, but looking so like a smile.
He knew, then, that all rumours were true. Daenerys Velaryon was perfect.
Utterly perfect.
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