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Aegon often wondered how his life would be different if he loved Helaena the way his brother, Aemond, did. Watching her as she bent over to examine a pathetic little critter, one hand steady on her pregnant belly, it was easy to imagine what Aemond saw in her. Even if no one else did. Maybe it was the way her long golden hair fell around her face, or the way she grinned as the hundred-legged insect crawled over the back of her hand. Or, Aegon pondered, maybe it was just how far he’d fallen into his cups that left him feeling some sort of way towards her.
With her sights set on the creature in her palm, the world was dead around her. It was the only thing that would hold her mind until it crawled off, out of sight. When they had been children, he’d find her like this, curled in the shadows of the Red Keep with whatever little thing had found its way into her path. It would make him angry, and he would wait until the bug crawled a few feet from her - just far enough for it to be out of her reach - and crush it under heel in front of her. He had watched Rhaenerya’s sons with Daemon’s daughters at political dinner after political dinner over the years whenever the couple felt the need to come slinking from Dragonstone. The way they danced and laughed and played together couldn’t have been a further cry from the way Helaena was with him, and he resented her for it.
Aegon had crawled into a cup before he was one and ten and had never crawled all of the way back out of it. Maybe that was part of the reason she ignored him, he thought, and the empty cup in his hand suddenly felt very heavy. She had always seemed lost in a daydream, never to wake up, but it had gotten worse over the years. The longer she was with him. With every year that passed, she seemed to slip further and further into her sleep.
There were times that he wished they were closer. Times when he watched the Velaryons, Corlys and his Targaryen wife. Daemon and Rhaenerya even, insufferable as they were. There were also times when he was very glad for the distance between him and his sister, times spent watching the women of the court mourning their late husbands, their sons, their fathers. He would not live long - no drunken fools like him ever did. The careful distance between them would stop her heart from breaking one day, he was sure.
On this day, the ale was good, and he had been drinking it since before their lunch was brought. Even as the shadows of the day grew longer, he had not stopped - but then again, he rarely did. The servants had gone after the table had been cleared, knowing better than to try and take the cup from his hand, and even his dear brother and his dear mother had gone off eventually. All of them except for Helaena. And her bug.
He stood up too fast, wobbling on his feet, and sent the chair he’d been in clattering hard against the floor. Across the stone, she flinched.
“Helaena,” he murmured, familiar with the dull ache that appeared in his chest. His pale eyes were slow to move to her, but he could’ve sworn that she flinched again, softer this time.
She turned, sparing him a hesitant glance over her shoulder at him. “Hmm? What is it, Aegon?” Her voice was dull, all of her attention still on the insect that crawled from one of her hands to the other.
He went towards her, around the table, feet unstable under him. “What have you got?”
“I don’t know.” She turned her hand over, watching the creature as it crept. “This one isn’t in any of my books.” Helaena spoke, holding the bug away from where Aegon stood over her, swaying off balance. He had not killed one of her bugs in years, but she was not quick to forget his cruelty.
She never was.
Aegon lowered himself down inches from her, careful to avoid scraping her knees with his. “How are you feeling?” He asked her, his voice quick and uncomfortable. “With the babe, I mean.”
“It’s different this time.” Something in her expression said that she was grateful for the question. She rested one of her hands on her stomach again, cradling the bump there protectively. “More pleasant, somehow. Easier.”
“How so?” He found himself asking, though he wasn’t sure why he cared, or if he really did at all.
“The maesters think there is only one babe this time,” she said. “I’m praying that they are right - I hardly thought I’d make it through Jaehaera, much less her brother. I can breathe easier, move around more.”
“It is still early,” Aegon said, and immediately hated himself for his pessimism.
Helaena blinked, her face going blank. “No,” she said. “I am nearly at the end of this pregnancy, Aegon.”
He stared at her, mouth falling open in wordless disbelief. He swore that perhaps four or five moons had passed since she’d had her last blood - surely this much time had not passed by him. “Time travels so swiftly.” The words were the only excuse he could find, and it soothed her no more than it did him.
“Aemond has already begun preparing the nursing room for him,” she told him, the words soft.
“Him?” Aegon echoed. “How can you be sure?”
“One can never be sure,” she answered him, a far-off look entering her eyes. “But this, I am certain of.”
“Another son.” Aegon felt that stupid, lopsided smile coming over his face once more. He looked at her for a moment, at the pale skin on her long neck, the love bites he had left there in spite of her protests. She grew shy under his watch, tilting her head to hide them, and he longed to give her another. His eyes moved down to her belly. Another son, he reckoned, and wondered if this babe would envy Jaehaerys the way Aemond envied himself. “May I…” he trailed off, suddenly insecure in his request. “May I feel?” He managed finally.
Helaena’s expression faltered, at first surprised, then apprehensive, until at last the color of a pale rose brushed her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Aegon had never shown any interest in her during her pregnancies, especially not once she’d grown large enough to tell that she was with child. “Of course.” She leaned back carefully, dropping her hand from the careful shield she’d held around her belly.
As Helaena Targaryen felt her husband’s hand on her pregnant belly for the first time, she could only gaze at him. His eyes, always so beautiful to her, closed. As he lowered his head, pressing his ear against her stomach, she wondered for the first time if Aegon could bring himself to love her the way her brother Aemond did.