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Chapter Text

She was fifteen when he slithered out of her womb, bathed in her blood and filth, screeching like he's been touched by fire, announcing to the world that Alicent Hightower is now and forever will be a Mother.

As he rested on her bosom, a prince on his own throne, she felt like Mother, child, Queen, and branded cattle all at once.

Aegon sucked on her milk and attention with intense hunger. His chubby fingers traced her face, patted it, slapped it, clawed at it. He was two when he realized that his body and hers weren't one. It took him longer to figure out the borders, and a little longer to accept where his body began and hers ended.

When her belly was heaviest during pregnancy, when she could feel him kicking her insides, Alicent took some comfort in knowing that her body won't be chained to his for long. Birth was a release. Or it ought to be. 

There would be tearing. Pools of of blood. A possible death. But she will be released. 

To her great shock, the pains of labor were mild and short-lived. And she almost felt guilty for it. Like she had cheated somehow and skipped a step, a sacrifice, that every mother should experience to earn the title of Mother. She could see it in Rhaenyra's face. When she bothers to look at her. 

In less than an hour, Alicent had delivered a healthy, beautiful baby boy who latched on to her with a mighty, fierce need.

There was no release.

Perhaps that was her sacrifice. 

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A Queen did not occupy her time tending to her children's needs. There is an army of nursemaids to do just that. But with Aegon; only the Queen's touch, his mother's touch, soothed his nerves. Her skin and his mark on it was the tangible proof he needed to know he was safe.

The King could not tolerate Aegon's piercing sobs any longer, was not willing to waste more time looking for a suitable nursemaid, and so he left Alicent to deal with the "problem".

Alicent accepted it as her motherly duty. Her body protested and she chewed her fingernails to silence it.

Her problem child sobbed pitifully whenever she was out of his sight. His eyes, wide and frantic, would dart everywhere, searching for her in every corner. He clung to her hand as he began to learn how to walk, not daring to let go for long, nor to stray too far. And no matter how far she went, he would always find her—run to her, engulf her legs in a crushing hug, and bury his face in her dress. As if in silent prayer.

At times, when was consumed by a rootless fear, he'd press his body to hers so hard she felt he was melting into her. Or she into him.

Her lady-in-waiting would coo in delight at the sight of an affectionate, clingy child. Babes are meant to be needy. It was a sign of love and trust between mother and child, she said, and Alicent wanted to believe her.

But she knew better.

They didn't feel the shiver rattling her son's body, nor did they hear the desperate whimper of his crying spells.

She wondered if he felt it too.

The dread of being caged in.

Of being prey in a nest of dragons.

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"I wish I was born a girl", he muttered once, his face drained of all expression and his dazed eyes staring at nothing. The admission startled her. It didn't sound childish at all.

He knew. He was six and he knew.

"It would not keep you safe", she wanted to whisper. To scream. To finally let it out. 

The urge made her bite off the skin of her thumb. 

She bit her lips next and forced an ill-formed smile out of them. Her teeth were bloody.

She so needed to explain and prepare Aegon for what was surely coming. But he was six. He should be able to cloak his nerves with the illusion of safety, until it won't fit him anymore. He might not deserve a birthright, but he deserved at least that.

Her delicate hands slightly shook as she caressed her boy's golden curls. She loved the sensation of running her fingers through the soft, fluffy texture of his hair. Loved to trace her thumb in his hairline and massage it gently until his skin felt warm. Somehow, it soothed her just as much as it soothed him. 

He looks so much like his elder sister already. The sudden thought paralyzed her. Vivid, violet eyes laughed and flashed sharply in her mind's eye, Rhaenyra, and Alicent had to look away. Had to fight off the invasion of smothered memories. Had to banish the vengeful ghost of a love that dug its claws into the throne of her heart, demanding to be crowned once more.

As with all the times when he felt his mother's attention slipping away from him, Aegon turned to face his mother and fixed his gaze on her. As if to pin her in place. His dim, violet eyes began to sharpen into focus. He took his mother's hand.

"Would sister like me if I was a girl?". He sounded like a child then, and a sickly-sweet smile began to bloom on her quivering lips. She had to give her best smiles before giving a dishonest answer.

Alicent had prayed for her firstborn to be a daughter. Had prayed to have only daughters. She begged not to have one that looked anything like Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra's face stared back at her through her son's face and she wanted to claw it off. 

She cupped her son's face. His face.

"You two are the blood of the dragon, my love. The blood of the dragon runs thick. It binds your hearts together".

His eyes dilated and a shiver ran through her.

"Oh, it sounds like...."

"What?"

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. 

"Like.. blood magic.."

She paused before allowing a shaky laugh to burst out of her.

She had long suspected that her little boy did not have a concrete understanding of love outside of the magical connection that bonded dragons to their riders. Love had to be binding or it was no love at all. 

It would have frightened and shamed her had she allowed herself to ponder the truth of this suspicion and all of its implications, what it revealed about her as Mother, but she chose to accept it as mere childish naïveté.

The stillness of her mind was stirred by a long-forgotten memory.

At the twilight of her girlhood, Alicent had heard a song describing love as binding magic.

Rhaenyra's head was on her lap and they both sang along. 

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Deep into the night, as Alicent slept restlessly with Aegon curled in her arms, she dreamt of a dragon, a golden one, breathing fire and devouring a corpse. The Iron Throne glowed in the distance. 

Alicent woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart empty and shivering, hearing Aegon laugh in his sleep.

Chapter Text

When Aegon opened his eyes, a dragon egg hatched and a golden dragon was born.

Sunfyre was tiny, skinny, and withered. Bathed in blazing fire. His shrill screams sounded like delighted laughter, as if the flames tickled his every nerve. His sheen scales flashed like glass reflecting every ray of sunshine.

On the break of dawn, when Sunfyre let out his first breath and the servants spread the good news throughout the castle like wildfire, Aegon had more urgent news to share.

He jumped out of bed and rushed to gather his little siblings for a grand announcement, dragging each of them from their beds to his own, but waited and hushed until their mother entered the room.

Alicent had a habit of waking up an hour before dawn. The silence and the stillness of the castle loosened the grip of the choking anxiety that dug its fingers into her throat. She'd walk around in her sleeping gown, dazed and flowy, with footsteps as light as feather, and let the coolness of the rocky floor and the after-midnight breeze stir her to full awakeness. 

She'd often find herself standing at the door of one of her children's rooms. Unsure of how she got there and why her legs were shaking. Sometimes she'd force her shaky legs to move inside and rest on her child's bed. If her child woke up; she'd press her lips on their forehead and mutter a low, dull "good morning" and allow them to smother her in a tight hug.

This time she stood in front of Aegon's room, and Aegon was expecting her. He had been pretending to be asleep when she smoothed his hair and asked her maid to carry him to his room, and he stayed awake until the sun peeked through the clouds. His tiny body vibrated with wild excitement as he waited for his mother to float in like a ghost in her usual nightly walks.

He raised his fists as soon as his eyes caught her shadow moving closer to the slightly opened door. "Mother and I shared the same dream last night!", he cheered and giggled. His voice was loud and merry. 

He turned around to look down at his brother and sister. His chin tilted up with pride and his smile stretched with giddy triumph, but his eyes pleaded for the reaction he craved to see in their faces. Awe. Envy. Preferably both. But he got neither.

Aemond gave him a flat, unamused stare. He didn't have to sneer "you brought us here for this?". His expression said it loud and clear. He scoffed and turned his attention back to his wooden sword, trying to sharpen it with clumsy precision. Aegon used to mock him for acting like an old man stuck in a child's body, and his little brother broke too many wooden swords by throwing them at Aegon's head.

Helaena was visibly taken aback, enough that she stopped gazing at the giant bug in her tiny hands. Her eyes, almond-shaped and glassy, met Aegon's fiery stare for a second before darting to the floor. Aegon figured she was looking for another bug to add to her freakish collection. Or at least pretending to be.

Aegon frowned and huffed and stomped a hand on the foot of his bed. "I speak the truth! The dragon was born today and we both dreamed about him last night. We did. We talked about it. Ask mother!".

If they had bothered to ask, she would have said it was only half true. Both of them dreamt of a golden dragon, that much was true. But Aegon was soaring through the skies mounting the golden dragon and wearing the king's crown, while Alicent stood frozen in front of the Iron Throne staring at the golden dragon devouring a decayed corpse. Or was it burnt?

It mattered not to Alicent, but it seemed to matter a great deal for her little prince. Her future king. He tugged at her hand, squeezed it hard, silently urging her to validate his claim. She allowed herself to ponder why, but only for fleeting moments. Was it to prove to Helaena that she's not special and he could envision eerily accurate dreams about the future? To prove that he has something binding him to his mother that Aemond could never rival? Perhaps both. She wasn't certain. Couldn't be.

Aegon's heart was an open book that only she could read, but the language was lost to her. She didn't know if she wanted to relearn it. Aegon's eyes demanded it, but Alicent was beyond exhausted with the demands of men.

She swallowed a yawn but let out a sigh that was caged in her lungs all morning.

"My dear. Your father and grandsire are going to see the new dragon very soon. Don't you want to accompany them?".

The almost sing-song tilt to her high, sweetened voice sounded insultingly infantilizing, and Aegon took it as such. He was nearing his seventh Name Day, and that was enough for him to deem himself grown, no longer a silly child, and that he deserved to be treated with the respect that adults reserved for themselves. But he was not yet old enough to communicate all that through words, so he tried to imitate his grandfather's coldest stare. 

Alicent's smile vanished and her mouth flattened into a thin line.

She would not be deterred by no child’s scornful glare. 

Aegon was still a boy. Her boy. He will not demand anything from her. Not yet.

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Cooling her rage was crucial when dealing with her fiery-tempered child.

She had to prepare him for the trip to the Dragon pit, after all.

It was time for him to leave.

Time for her to breathe.

She moved her hand to pet his head.

She felt like a doll jerked by an invisible string.

“Sunfyre is beautiful, my dear. His whole body is as golden as the sun. Like your pretty head. He could be yours to claim one day. It’s best if you were the first to pet him. It will help you bond with him quickly, I’m sure. Aegon, stop glaring at me”.

She whispered the last bit through her teeth, her voice sharp and steely, and Aegon winched and looked away.  

If he wanted her to treat him as his Queen rather than a Mother, then so be it.

He remained silent and still for a long time. Alicent almost laughed. He was still young enough to think of the silent treatment as a fitting punishment.

Aegon let the maids dress him and ran off as soon as he was free of their clutches.

There wasn’t enough air for him and Alicent in one room.

Alicent watched him leave, unmoving and unmoved.

Her son was temperamental and his moods were ever-changing. He'd soon understand why his mother didn't humor his childish fantasies. Why she didn't ask to accompany him on this trip. The blood of the dragon did not flow through her veins. Hightowers are not meant to fly. They are firmly rooted in the earth, guiding lost souls to safety.

Alone and grey in her old chambers, Alicent couldn't remember when Aegon slipped through her fingers like melted gold, or how the gulf between them formed and stretched and tore him from her until his absence felt like a severed limb, but she knows it had to have started somewhere after that day.

When her little prince met his dragon and claimed the skies as their home.