Chapter Text
"Stand, Aegon."
Rhaenyra's voice demands, and Aegon visibly flinches at the harsh spittle leaving her lips, as pale as Winterfell.
But his stubbornness is her equal, and he stays exactly where he is.
"No, Your Grace. I will not."
A heavy silence burdens the two of them, and the wind howls louder, sounding more of a wail than anything decipherable. Aegon the Younger runs to his mother after being released, gripping her skirt very tightly and watching with such disdain at Aegon it is almost humiliating.
But humiliation is something he is well accustomed to by now.
"As your Queen, I command you to stand and face me."
Her words are softer this time, and Aegon is unable to understand why that willed him to obey her, wobbling on crippled feet until he was to her height again
He had nothing left to say to her; it was his last act that he could die on a good conscious, and yet she had decided to drag this out longer than necessary and Aegon could not even blame her for it.
He would have knelt until the sand and ice carved his figure upon the hill.
"You should let me die. Let me atone in Hell for what I have done."
"You know I will not do that."
Aegon flinches once more, eyes as dark as velvet in the overcasting clouds that draw him near to tears. He refuses to cry in front of Rhaenyra but they trickle out as he hastily wipes them gone.
"What will you do with me, then?"
Rhaenyra frowns, before she smiles all the same. Did it bring her joy to see him in such a state? How long as it been that she was happy?
"You are my brother by blood. We are each our father's doing, and you have been blinded too many times. By your grandfather, your mother, your brother. I am your only sister left, am I not?"
What kind of sister would I be, to abandon my brother in a time like this?"
Rhaenyra steps closer, they were already in close proximity that Aegon can feel her breath, as warm as fire, against his lips.
He cannot stop himself to speak.
"I love you, Rhaenyra. The throne was never mine to sit, and yet I let myself be misguided. I am sorry, my dear sister. I could not ask for your forgiveness."
He feels her hand on his face, mapping out the distinct patterns of the burns, like swirls and splotches of red and pink. Aegon wishes to draw away but he is too compelled to leave.
"Do you wish to die?"
Rhaenyra asks this time instead, her fingers lingering against the flesh and her hand drops back to her side. She had come to this intending to be strong, and she came intending to die just as Aegon was. She had hoped he would be dead too.
Aegon's answer is immediate.
"I just wish to be with you. Whether that be in life or death. Being alive does not matter to me."
Rhaenyra kisses his forehead at that, as smooth and pale as the rest of him, or part of him, at least.
Aegon the Younger tugs at her dress, whispering something indecipherable to Aegon yet Rhaenyra nods like she understands, before reaching out to take Aegon's hand. Both of them.
"Come, let us go back. We will tell everyone the news."
And Aegon, in stunned disbelief, follows her guidance down the hill, leaving imprints of their footstep on the windblown grass.
"You have the rest of your life to atone, Aegon. For me, for everything you took. And I will be with you the entire way."