Chapter Text
Aegon Targaryen is drunk.
His cheek still stings from where his mother had struck him. She’d been waiting for him, in his chambers, when he’d returned from a night of general debauchery in the streets of King's Landing.
“This is no way for a future king to behave, Aegon! Why must you be so determined to bring shame upon your family? Upon me?”
“It’s a good thing you’re not looking at a future king then, mother. I have no wish to rule, no taste for duty, I’m not suited to it.”
His evening indulgences had loosened his tongue, and he’d earned a slap for it. At least he’d managed to snag another bottle of wine from his chambers as he fled the queen’s wrath.
Aegon takes a long pull from the bottle as he stalks through the halls of the Red Keep, his mind a storm of emotions.
He’d spent his whole childhood attempting to win the love and attention of his family, to no avail. Aegon wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done wrong. He knows what he does wrong now, of course. Once he’d realized that he’d never live up to the expectations placed upon his shoulders, he’d stopped trying. If they thought him so terrible, then terrible he would be, and he intended to have a damn good time doing it.
Aegon stumbles to a stop, realizing how quiet the castle has become around him. Glancing around in confusion, he notices tapestries and Targaryen heraldry adorning the walls, as they no longer did in most of the Red Keep.
Ah, that explains it then. His drunken, mindless wanderings have found him in his half-sister’s abandoned wing of the castle. It has sat empty in the nearly eight years since Rhaenyra gathered her family and left to Dragonstone.
The animosity between his mother and half-sister had never allowed for Aegon to visit this section of the castle under positive circumstances, and he’d never cared to upon their departure. But now that he’s here, he has to admit that he’s curious.
Taking another swig from his bottle, Aegon begins to investigate. A servant's passage, several smaller, unremarkable rooms that must have belonged to his nephews, and he finds himself opening a door that leads to a much larger space. With their size, these chambers could only have belonged to Rhaenyra.
Without allowing himself to lend much thought to his actions, Aegon steps inside. Her room is dark and freezing cold, but not unkempt. Most of her personal effects went with her to Dragonstone, but the linens still rest upon the bed, decoration upon the walls simply waiting for her return. Rhaenyra hadn’t returned though, the mess at Driftmark had seen to that. He shudders at the memory of that night, the wild look in his mother’s eyes as she’d advanced upon his half-sister, knife raised.
A familiar longing runs through Aegon. He wishes he could do as Rhaenyra had and simply run away from his problems. An even more familiar feeling of jealousy burns under his skin as he remembers why he cannot, the great difference between himself and Rhaenyra.
She held their father’s love, despite her many sins, and Aegon never had. He’s never basked in the warm glow of the King’s affection, something that Rhaenyra and her children seemed to almost take for granted, like it was an expectation and not a privilege.
Jealousy turns to a near blinding anger as Aegon thinks of Rhaenyra and her bastard sons. What made her so perfect? Why was Aegon never enough?
The fire in his veins ignites and without allowing himself to consider his actions, Aegon turns to destruction. The bottle of wine that he’s been nursing shatters against a wall, curtains torn from the great bedposts, books scattered, a chair upturned.
He’s determined to leave his mark upon this echoing shrine to their shattered family.
All of his rage at his father's apathy, his mother's coldness, his grandsire's unattainable expectations, builds and builds in his chest, a great scream that he can’t seem to get out.
Aegon grips a tapestry with both hands and violently tears it from the wall. As he's turning away already searching for the next object that will pay the price his fury demands, something stops him.
Aegon turns back towards the wall and studies it, trying to pinpoint what caught the corner of his eye. His blurry gaze settles on a particular stone in the wall, the angle of it is slightly askew.
Even as he thinks that it's simply a trick of the shadows, Aegon reaches out a tentative hand and to his utter surprise, the odd stone moves.
He stands, dumbstruck, for a moment before he begins to pry the stone from the wall. He scrabbles at it, desperately trying to draw out whatever secrets the castle walls may hold.
The stone finally shifts free, revealing a larger space behind it, and Aegon blindly reaches into it. To his great disappointment, the only thing he pulls from the wall is a worn book that appears entirely unremarkable.
He scowls down at the book, and then shrugs to himself before stuffing it in his loosened doublet. He doesn't much care for books but he's dug this one from the wall itself, and he intends to take his useless prize on principle if nothing else.
Aegon gazes about the room, taking in the destruction and winces. Now that the great fire of his rage has burned out, he feels like an extremely foolish child, throwing a tantrum.
He may not be able to flee from King's Landing, but he can certainly flee the scene of this crime. Scurrying through the castle as quickly as he can in his state, Aegon really hopes that his mother isn’t waiting for him this time.
><
The next morning, Aegon awakes to a roiling in his stomach and a great, throbbing pain in his head.
Letting out a muffled groan, he burrows further into the pillows, trying to block the sunlight from his aching eyes.
He's managed to convince himself that his drinking isn't truly a problem. He's a prince, the first born son of the king. Why shouldn't he indulge? There's a twisting in his gut that isn't entirely due to his overindulgence. Aegon wants to stop, he really does. He's even tried before, but all it takes is a snide comment from his grandsire or a reproachful glance from his mother to send him sliding back into oblivion.
The hunger pains in his stomach are what finally drag him from his bed. It appears that the maids have already come and gone from his chambers. A long cooled bath is drawn, and an even colder breakfast sits on a nearby table. Quickly glancing out the window, Aegon estimates that it must be early afternoon.
As he moves towards his neglected breakfast, Aegon catches a glimpse of himself in a passing mirror and grimaces. His hair is stuck out at wild angles, the dark circles under his eyes stand out in stark contrast to his pale skin, and he's still wearing yesterday's clothes.
Some crown prince you make he thinks to himself, with a self depreciating huff of laughter.
He begins to peel away his soiled clothes, moving slowly due to the pain still radiating through his head. As he strips his doublet off, tossing it to the floor where it will become someone else's problem, Aegon feels a shift against his stomach and hears the gentle thump of an object hitting the flooring.
He squints down in confusion at the small book resting at his feet, and then it all rushes back to him.
Seven hells, Rhaenyra's chambers.
He scrubs his hands over his face and groans, thinking of the verbal lashing his father will deliver when the destruction is discovered. Aegon brushes aside that thought, to his knowledge, no one saw him enter or exit Rhaenyra's abandoned wing of the castle. It could be weeks before damage is discovered, and he's gotten quite good at projecting brash indifference.
Sighing, Aegon leans down to scoop the book off of the floor and gets his first proper look at it. Well worn and bound in black leather, the book is emblazoned with a red stamp of the Targaryen crest. However, what piques Aegon's interest is the lack of markings to indicate an author or title.
He begins leafing through the pages and quickly realizes that it's not a book of Targaryen histories, as he initially suspected. The loose scrawl and dated pages indicate a personal accounting, a diary.
A diary that he'd pulled from a hidden place in Rhaenyra's personal chambers.
A shiver of excitement runs down Aegon's spine. While his half-sister had been a huge presence for a majority of his life, Aegon really doesn't know much about her on a personal level. In the time since Rhaenyra left the Red Keep, she's become even more of an unattainable mystery.
It seems that last night's adventure may not have been as fruitless as it seemed. Here Aegon stands, seemingly with all of the answers in the palm of his hand.
Excitement quickly turns to disappoint as Aegon studies the diary more intently and realizes that it's written in High Valyrian.
Aegon curses under his breath. He'd never paid attention during his Valyrian lessons as a child, only bothering to learn enough to communicate with Sunfyre. Now that he was a man grown, his mother and the maesters had given up trying to corral him into the library.
This is foolish Aegon thinks to himself, who's to say that Rhaenyra's diary even contains anything interesting? Helaena has a journal, and all she uses it for is recording different species of bugs. He's on the verge of tossing the book away when a word that he does recognize catches his eye.
Alicent
Aegon's mouth goes dry at the sight of his mother's name in Rhaenyra's journal. He's suddenly desperately curious again, the need to grasp at any understanding of Rhaenyra, or his mother, is overwhelming.
An idea begins to formulate in Aegon's mind as he sits at the table to devour his stale breakfast.
For the first time in a long while, Prince Aegon Targaryen will spend his afternoon in the library.
><
Upon arriving at the castle library, Aegon realizes that he may not have really thought this through.
"My prince, you need assistance… translating a piece of correspondence, written in High Valyrian?" The maester is gazing at him sternly, one eyebrow raised in question. "May I inquire as to who sent it?"
Oh, Aegon really didn't think this through. His arrival in the library, of his own accord, was suspicious enough. Much less the idea that anyone would be writing to him in High Valyrian. His valiant attempts to resist education are well known throughout his family and the Red Keep itself.
Fixing an arrogant, superior look to his face, that he knows will irritate the maester, Aegon internally scrambles as he attempts to cover his foolishness.
"Well, I'm not entirely sure who wrote it, or if it's even High Valyrian." Aegon forces out a self assured chuckle, nearly choking on it. "You see, it was left in my chambers. Most likely a lady, who enjoys these courtly games of mystery. I do hope it's from last night's dalliance. I quite enjoy receiving accounts of my performance, always positive I assure you. Anyways, the woman I took to bed last night was extremely vocal, with these amazing tits, but I can't remember her na-"
Aegon knows he is rambling and his story sounds weak even to his own ears, but his vulgar comments seem to have done the trick as the maester bristles.
"That's quite enough." The maester seethes. "You may be a prince, but I will not allow you to stand in the royal library and insult higher learning with your vitriol. Leave, at once."
"Oh well, I always knew this place was useless. I'll simply have to find the lady on my own."
The maester doesn't even dignify him with a response, continuing to glare as Aegon swaggers out of the library.
><
Aegon’s options are limited, and he knows it.
There are only a handful of people within the Red Keep who speak High Valyrian, and the only ones he knows that he can trust are his siblings.
He rules out Daeron almost immediately. The boy is still away in Oldtown, and this is not the type of thing that can be communicated by raven. With a flicker of shame, Aegon realizes that even if Daeron was within the keep, their relationship has been so neglected that he wasn’t even in a position to ask. It wasn’t bad or antagonistic, it just… wasn’t. While they may be brothers, their births were separated by eight years, and Aegon simply didn’t have the patience to include his youngest brother in his wild escapades.
Helaena couldn’t help him either. They had never shared a particularly close relationship, but their marriage had all but ruined it. He had done his duty to his family and fathered their children, but now that they’re here he can’t bring himself to face them in the light of day. The twins were nearly 4 years old, and they still didn’t feel like his own children.
You really have no right to them anyways The little voice in Aegon’s head whispers to him.
He had avoided Helaena throughout the entirety of her pregnancy, just as he does now that she’s pregnant again, and fled the castle during her labors. Aegon hadn’t even been given the chance to voice an opinion on his own children’s names. Everyone says that Helaena had named them, but in fact she had only nodded along, too exhausted from the birthing bed, as their mother and grandsire had discussed the most advantageous options.
“Naming them after the great King Jaehaerys is the strongest choice.” Otto Hightower, hand of the king, never seemed to doubt himself. “King Aegon II will be followed by King Jaehaerys II. It will serve as a reminder to the common people who their rightful king is descended from.”
Aegon had gazed upon his newborn son, and thought that surely such a name, with so much weight behind it, would crush the fragile creature.
But his grandsire always had his way in the end, so Jaehaerys and Jaehaera they had been.
Aegon shakes himself free of his melancholy memories with a shudder, having found himself at the door of his only remaining option.
Aemond.
He deeply resents having to ask his younger brother for help. Their mother’s favorite child, the golden Targaryen prince, the squalling babe that had stolen the few scraps of love and attention that their mother used to bestow upon Aegon.
He despises Aemond for stealing their mother away, for being so perfect in the eyes of their family, a living reminder of everything that Aegon was not. Even all of that business on Driftmark, a fight which Aemond had started and Aegon wasn’t even present for, had still fallen back on him. Always Aegon’s fault.
In the end, his need to know what is written in the damn book wins the day over his distaste for his younger brother.
Within seconds of Aegon’s knock, he hears his brother call out, “Enter!”
He sees Aemond’s expression turn from neutral to distasteful as he realizes exactly who is letting themselves inside his chamber.
“Ah, brother, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Aemond greets him in a voice that indicates it is anything but.
Irritation spikes through him as Aegon grits out, “I require your assistance with a translation. A High Valyrian translation.”
A condescending grin splits Aemond’s face, “I see.” His delight at the situation is clear. Aemond takes advantage of any chance to humiliate or show his superiority over his older brother, and here Aegon is, dropping this opportunity directly in his lap.
“I wish I could be of assistance, I truly do, but I am quite busy at the moment. Such a shame that the High Valyrian lessons of our youth never stuck with you. Perhaps the maesters will allow you to join Helaena’s children in their lessons.” With a final smirk, Aemond turns away in a clear sign of dismissal.
Aegon seethes, but he resists the urge to set his anger loose. He really doesn’t have anyone else to ask.
“What if I told you that the book I’m asking you to translate might contain information you would also find interesting.”
Aemond regards him with a raised brow, “You really expect me to believe that you have a book that is even remotely interesting? I didn’t think you had any books at all.”
Aegon strides over to where his brother is sitting at a desk, withdrawing the diary from his jacket and dropping it directly on whatever Aemond was previously reading.
“It is Rhaenyra’s book. A diary, I believe.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I found it in her chambers, hidden behind a false stone in the wall.”
Aemond gives him an incredulous look, “What in the seven hells were you doing in Rhaenyra’s chambers?”
Feeling heat rise to his face, Aegon tells him a half-truth, “I was drunk, and confused them for my own chambers. Once I realized where I was I tried to leave, but got caught on a tapestry. I saw the false stone in the wall behind the tapestry when it moved, and I was curious.” he finishes with a shrug.
Aemond shakes his head, “You are ridiculous. It most likely contains nothing of value.”
“Oh?” Aegon reaches over to open the book, turning to the page where he’d seen their mother’s name, “And what about this?”
“Why should I care what our whore of a half-sister writes about our mother?”
Aegon lets his brother’s statement hang in the air, hoping that Aemond’s curiosity will get the better of him.
And it does.
Aemond sighs as he concedes, “Fine. I’ll translate your stupid book.”
Aegon grins in triumph as he watches his brother clear the desk of his previous studies and settle the diary in front of him.
“The date indicates that this is quite old, our mother would have been 10 and 4 years of age, with Rhaenyra roughly the same.” Aemond studies the book intently, seeming to get his bearings before beginning to slowly read aloud, translating as he goes. “It is my dearest wish to convince Alicent to fly on dragon back with me-” Aemond cuts off abruptly, shock written across his face.
The brothers share a confused look, and Aemond slightly shakes head, before diving back into the translation.
111 AC
It is my dearest wish to convince Alicent to fly on dragon back with me, yet all of my attempts so far have been in vain. The dragons make her nervous, it is plain to see. She is always at the dragonpit to greet me upon my return, but stays well clear of Syrax. The two-rider saddle I've commissioned for Syrax is almost completed, and while I desperately want to tell Alicent, I don't want her to agree out of obligation. Flying on dragonback is my most favorite thing in this world and Alicent is my most favorite person in the world, I desperately want to share it with her. I'm more determined than ever to redouble my efforts. When it finally happens, when we soar above the clouds together, I know she'll shriek with terror at first but I hope she also smiles. I hope she laughs.
The brothers sit in stunned silence for a few moments. "This doesn't make any sense," Aemond mutters to himself.
Aegon has been lost in his own similar thoughts, but he looks up as his brother speaks. "Well," Aegon hesitantly replies, "we did know that our mother and Rhaenyra were... cordial, at one time."
Aemond shoots him an incredulous look, "Yes, but this," he gestures at the diary sat before them,"isn't just cordial. This- this is..." Aemond scrubs a hand over his jaw and sighs, seeming to collect his thoughts. "Rhaenyra described our mother as 'her most favorite person in the world' and spoke about her with such familiarity. How could that have been? They can barely stand the sight of each other, we've seen it our whole lives."
Aegon shrugs, "I don't know... but it was definitely written by Rhaenyra, and it is very clearly our mother she was writing about"
"You're truly sure that this is her diary?"
"Absolutely sure. It was quite well hidden in her rooms, and who else would keep a diary written in Valyrian?" If speaking High Valyrian is difficult, writing it is even more so. Aegon feels a begrudging respect for the girl his half-sister used to be. A girl he'd never known, or truly even considered before.
Aemond ponders his words and then nods.
They sit in silence for several minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. Aegon doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to admit that he needs something more from his younger brother. "Perhaps further reading will provide more clarity." It's a statement, but sounds almost like a question, and Aegon mentally kicks himself.
Aemond narrows his good eye at his older brother, "My days are quite busy. I have important obligations that I do not intend to neglect."
Aegon rolls his eyes, “What exactly are so preoccupied with, brother? Preparing to not be king? Your non-existent wife and children.”
“I do not need to justify myself to you, especially when you are here seeking my help.”
Aegon winces slightly, but addresses his brother with as much nonchalance as he can muster, "Well, if you are uninterested..." he reaches past Aemond and begins to lift the diary from the desk as he speaks.
Aemond's hand suddenly snakes out and slams the book back down, pinning it to the desk.
"No, I-" Aemond appears frustrated with himself for giving in so easily, but collects himself and presses on with a superior air to his voice, "I'll make time."
Aegon suppresses a smirk, "Well then, if the mighty prince isn't too terribly busy right now."
Aemond fully glares at him, but there's no true malice behind it. After a few moments, he shifts his attention back to the diary in front of him and turns the page.
As he's about to begin narrating Rhaenyra's next entry, there's a knock at the door.
Aemond slams the back shut, as the brothers share a guilty look. Aegon watches as his brother turns in his chair, angling his body to block the diary from view, and calls out, "Enter."
The door swings open to reveal their mother's sworn protector, Criston Cole.
"Prince Aemond," Cole's eyes widen slightly as he sees Aegon, "...and Prince Aegon. Your mother, the queen, has requested your presence in the dining hall. Dinner will be served shortly."
"Thank you, Cole. We'll be along shortly."
The Kingsguard simply nods in acknowledgement, as he exits the room.
Aemond rises from chair and stretches, "Well, we'd best be going. Don't want to keep our mother waiting."
Aegon frowns and shifts uncomfortably on his feet, "I believe that dinner invitation was for you alone. I just happened to be nearby."
Aemond shakes his head in exasperation, "You're always invited to dinner, same as me, it's just that usually we can't find you to impart said invitation."
Aegon wishes he could argue with that statement but his brother is, unfortunately, correct.
Aemond attempts to breeze past the awkwardness as he gently cuffs Aegon on the shoulder. "Come on, our mother may not be a dragon but I'd still prefer not to be on the receiving end of her irritation by delaying dinner."
Aegon huffs out a laugh and finds he can't think of a valid reason not to attend dinner, especially having just complained about his usual lack of an invitation. "All right then."
><
By the time the brothers have reached the dining hall, they've already made arrangements to meet again and continue their investigation of Rhaenyra's diary.
"Aegon!"
He flinches slightly at the surprised tone of his mother's voice. Aegon knows that under normal circumstances he'd be fully in his cups by this time of day, lost to the world. His attendance at dinner is a rare occurrence, but he wishes that his family could avoid pointing it out as it makes him feel intensely awkward.
Aegon is preparing to make a sarcastic reply or simply flee the dining hall when Aemond intercedes.
His younger brother steps forward to place a kiss on their mother's cheek. "I'm sorry if we're late for dinner mother. I delayed us by asking Aegon for his opinion on a historical matter I've been pondering."
Alicent looks between her sons with barely concealed confusion, but doesn't press the issue. "It's quite alright, we were just about to begin." She turns to the dinner table where Helena is already seated with the twins.
Aegon lets out a quiet breath as the tension in his shoulders dissipates. Aemond glaces over his shoulder and shoots Aegon a quick grin before following after their mother.
><
That night Aegon dreams that he's soaring above the clouds with Sunfyre. A young girl with silver hair flies next to him on a golden dragon. She glances at Aegon with mischief in her eyes and lets out a shriek of laughter as her dragon dives towards the earth.