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The prince’s room was dark and quiet, except for his loud snoring. Visenya stood at the end of his bed, unimpressed. She had come to wake him, long after he should have been up, since he’d snapped at the maids and gone back to sleep. She’d brought a pitcher of water and a cup, but since entering she’d set them down on a table by the door and crossed the length of the room towards him. She let her shoes click loudly on the stone floor the whole way.
He hadn’t stirred.
She walked back to his door, heels still clicking. She opened it softly, and then slammed it shut. The sound reverberated throughout the room and he jerked awake with a groan.
“Go away ,” he whined, sinking his face into a pillow. He was surely hungover from the night before, where he’d drank with his friends in the throne room for hours until stumbling into bed.
Visenya crossed her arms. She looked regal in a dark red gown with black highlights, her neck adorned by a silver pendant embedded with a red stone, similar to her older sister’s. Her dark brown Arryn hair, courtesy of her mother, was done up in a braided crown with a few loose curling strands.
In comparison, her younger brother was clothed only from the waist down in old brown pants, and his white hair was strewn messily all around his head.
“We have duties to attend to, Aegon,” she said. He moaned frustratedly into his pillow.
He had never been very good at being a prince. His mother had put a lot of pressure on him when he was younger, and though she had let off in recent years, it had done its damage. He expected a lot from himself, sometimes, and other times he expected nothing, so most of the time it manifested in him doing nothing at all but drinking himself into oblivion.
Visenya knew all this. She had seen it develop as she and her brother grew up together. And she loved him, so she didn’t mind waking him some mornings and dragging him hungover through the day. He always thanked her.
And besides, he was good to her too.
“Maybe if you had some water after all that ale, you’d be up earlier,” she mused, walking to the windows. She yanked open the curtains, another task the maids should have completed, though she couldn’t blame them for not wanting to incur his infamous tongue lashing.
Aegon groaned even louder, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. The sunlight flooding into his room made his head pound even worse.
“Do you have any idea what kind of night I had, you little pest?” he grumbled, throwing out an insult that didn’t sting. He just couldn’t manage venom towards her anymore, and even when he managed it once in a blue moon under the influence, she was long past feeling hurt.
He pushed himself up to a seated position, rubbing his face sleepily. He could have slept the rest of the day and would have been glad to do so, but Visenya always had a way of getting him up and moving when she wanted to. No point in arguing.
She walked back over to the door and grabbed the cup and pitcher. She poured him a cup at his bedside that he glared at instead of taking.
She sighed. “Please, Aegon. Give me an easy morning, will you?” He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, but she said, “You know fighting will only annoy us both.”
He looked up at her with bleary, tired eyes. Her gentle tone, so honest so early, was enough to make him sigh as he decided she was right. It wasn’t a fight he would win, and he was still too groggy and sore to really fight anyway.
He took the cup from her and swallowed a few big sips before setting it aside. The drink helped his dry throat, but did little for his headache.
“ Fine , I’ll be nice today,” he grumbled. “For you.”
Those words, for you , made something in her chest glow warm.
She and Aegon hadn’t always gotten along. They’d butted heads all throughout their childhood, a product of her sister and his mother’s feud more than anything. They’d also both thought of themselves as in charge as the two oldest, since Rhaenyra was married at Dragonstone when they were just toddlers. He had looked down on their younger siblings and nephews, while she usually took their side.
But then, one night when the whole family was together at dinner in the Red Keep, their father announced they were to be married. To each other .
They were 16 and 15, and Visenya understood it was a sort of message to Alicent that her children were no more special than Aemma’s. Aegon just understood it as some kind of punishment.
But they also both knew there was no avoiding it when King Viserys was so set, and that meant something had to change.
And something did start to change.
So while she had always loved him like a sister, she had grown to love him like a wife. Though, they didn’t feel very married most of the time, even though it had been four years since the wedding. It was a peculiar arrangement. He drank a lot, and she took her duties seriously, and they were only intimate when he was sober or the Queen questioned her lack of grandchildren.
So, they were rarely intimate.
But it was still a satisfying arrangement. He was good to her. He made her smile enough that she didn’t really mind how much he made her frown. She wanted a proper husband and children, but she knew better than anyone that fighting with Aegon was the last way to get him to do something. He hadn’t had a bad morning like this in a while anyhow, which was why she had been unimpressed upon discovering him… but he was still improving.
Which she could tell furthermore by the way he so quickly pushed off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She stepped back and decided to walk around his room. There were history books on his table he had, at the least, opened. More progress, she supposed.
“All we have before lunch is training,” she said aloud to the room. “You’ll be fine once you have some food and juice. Aemond and Daeron are still at the table, but not for long, if you want to eat alone.”
He listened to her as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The mention of training did not excite him, but he knew she was right. Besides, the mention of food did excite him.
He opened his eyes and watched her look about his space. It was a familiar sight; she was often there, in her finery and her nightclothes equally, to bother him or entertain herself. He sometimes wished she was in there more.
“I want you to eat with me,” he said, his voice still rough with drunken sleep, but as confident as a prince’s ever was.
She turned and gave him a small smile. “Alright. But you need to dress and hurry along to the dining hall before the boys finish all the food.”
He stood up and walked to his wardrobe as she moved to the door, stopping with her hand on the handle. “Don’t disappear back into the sheets, or I’ll tell Her Grace I haven’t seen you yet this morning.”
He glared at the threat of his mother, knowing her angry creased brow and long, loud lecture would ruin his day before it started.
“You wouldn’t,” he muttered, turning back his clothes. And she wouldn’t, but she liked riling him up. He pulled out the first pair of proper trousers he found, but took a few moments longer to rummage through his clothing for a suitable shirt.
Visenya paused there at the door and watched him. He was, frankly, gorgeous, something she couldn’t and wouldn’t deny. It was one reason she didn’t mind being married to him. He was lean and muscled from years of training, horseback riding, and dragon riding alike, though even when he neglected them all, his Targaryen genetics seemed to do the work.
And he had quite a nice smile. It was sometimes her mission of the day to draw it out of him as many times as she could.
Aegon felt her eyes on him and looked over at her, a smirk popping onto his face.
“See something you like, my sweet wife?” he teased.
Her hand dropped from the door and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Your ‘sweet wife?’” she repeated. “I can’t remember the last time you called me that. You must be in a decent mood this morning, then? Hm, sweet husband?”
He chuckled as he pulled a shirt over his head, and then walked across the room to her. His hands landed on her hips and tugged her closer to him, so she let hers rest on his chest. “I suppose it might have something to do with a certain princess putting up with me so gracefully this morning.”
She smiled, but then his breath hit her, still strongly smelling of ale and wine. She cringed and turned away, though didn’t pull all the way out of his arms.
“ Oh, ” she groaned. She patted his chest reassuringly. “As much as I love this attitude, you should really brush your teeth. Now.”
He scoffed, but let her go and walked to his bathroom. She stood and waited, listening to him pour water over the brush, scrub furiously, and spit it out. He came back into view, stopped at his wardrobe for a pair of boots he pulled on standing, and then walked back over to her.
He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled softly.
“So,” he started, now far more chipper than he had been upon waking. “Breakfast?”
This was nice. They often bickered, were often friendly, often family-like. They were less often flirtatious. Aegon was her best friend, and she liked to think she was his, but sometimes it was easy to forget they were more than that.
She liked being reminded, if it drew these sweet words and gestures from him, and made her stomach flutter pleasantly.
“I like when you’re like this,” she admitted quietly, looking up into his easy, dark purple eyes.
She was beautiful. He knew it, he always had, as easily as he’d known he lived in Westeros and his name was Aegon. But in that moment, it was important that the thought passed through his mind that said she was beautiful .
His go-to was sarcasm. In any emotional scenario, perhaps with any other person, he would have said “Don’t get used to it,” or rolled his eyes with a smile and changed the subject. Especially since he was hungover, when his decision making skills really eluded him.
But he just couldn’t bring himself to be insincere, then and there. With her.
He used the hand he was still holding to pull her closer to him again, sliding his hands around to her lower back. Hers came up to rest gently on his chest.
“I like being like this with you,” he murmured, bowing his head and leaning in closer. She giggled as his minty breath washed over her face, and he smiled. “Maybe I should drink more often, if it gets you close to me in the mornings.”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. She looked down, and then she pulled away from him. His hands followed her, trailing down her arm until she had taken a few steps back.
He looked at her with brows drawn in confusion, but she didn’t make him wait for an explanation.
“Please don’t.” She said it firmly. “I like when you don’t drink. And you’ve been drinking less, which is nice.”
For a moment, he felt hurt. Offended. She didn’t understand that it was so hard to live inside his head, to live in this castle. That drinking was the only thing that gave him a brief respite.
But as he thought it, he corrected himself. No, that’s not right. She does understand. That’s why she is the way she is with me.
She’s the only one who understands.
Something about his wife made his head clearer than any amount of water after wine ever could.
“Okay,” he said, and that was all.
“...Okay?” she asked. Wasn’t there pushback? Wasn’t there more?
“Okay,” he repeated, nodding once. “I won’t drink anymore.”
Her confused expression morphed slowly into a sceptical smile. “It’s not so easy, Aegon. You can’t just wake up one day and decide to never drink again.”
“Well, no,” he agreed. “I mean, I’ll drink in moderation from now on.”
“That’s not so easy, either.”
He closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts. “Alright, well I’ll…” He reached out and took her hand again. “I’ll have you to help me, right?”
“Of course, but—”
“But nothing,” he assured her, taking her other hand. “You help my mind focus. Slow down.”
Visenya grew softer and softer with each word he spoke. However, she and her husband shared some traits, and her instinct was to pick up the insincerity he wasn’t delivering.
“I’ve never heard you agree to something so easily,” she joked, though she moved her hand from his to his forearm, pulling him ever closer.
He chuckled, knowing she was right. And he gave the reason for it without needing to think or wonder if it was the right thing to say.
“You make me want to be better,” he breathed.
His hand came up to gently cup her face, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the soft skin of her cheek. It was so unusual for them, but so tender her heart couldn’t help but squeeze.
Her hand rested on his for a moment, and then she moved, surging up onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into her. Feeling the warm, strong, solid length of his body against hers, his arms holding her to him, made her want to just melt . He couldn’t have said anything more perfect, her husband. (Her husband).
She worried for a moment about him following through on this new promise, but she couldn’t really bother to pull herself from how nice it was to be with him like this.
Aegon had moved instinctively, wrapping his arms around her waist as she pulled him into her. He let himself be pulled, gladly. He buried his face in her neck, into the soft hair falling down her shoulder, and his eyes closed as he let her tight hold and woody perfume overwhelm him.
He felt strange, in her embrace… comfortable, and vulnerable. It was so rare he let his guard down like this with anyone, even himself, but he had been truthful when he said she helped his mind focus, slow. There wasn’t a lick of his usual vices flickering through his mind.
“I don’t want to let you go,” Visenya mumbled into his neck, leaning into him more. He held her a little tighter.
She felt… like a wife. She felt like she was on her way to something she had been patiently waiting on for four years.
He pulled away. She frowned, but it was wiped clean as his lips crashed into hers.
Her hands flew to his shoulders to steady herself, but she adapted quickly and was chasing his lips with equal fervour as he was pulling her tighter to him.
They didn’t kiss. Only when they were intimate, which again, was rare. And this kiss was different.
It wasn’t born in the heat of passion. It was passionate, yes, but it was raw. It felt worth a thousand words, to Visenya.
(I want to always be with you.)
To Aegon, it was worth more than he thought he would ever be able to say.
(I’ll give you anything you want.)
♕♕♕♕♕
“Rhaelon, listen to Ser Criston!” Visenya called, watching her son run ahead of the Kingsguard down the hall on their way to visit the training yard. “And don’t run to Uncle Aemond until he says so, I won’t be as sorry as last time if you get cut!’
Ser Criston looked back and gave her a thumbs up, which eased her worries a little. She watched them continue down the hall, the knight grabbing her son by the back of his shirt to keep him from running too far ahead. She smiled.
Hands landed on her waist and she yelped. Her husband laughed amusedly, even as she smacked him on the chest.
“ Don’t scare me like that!” she chided, pushing him away from her. Still, his hands found their way back to her waist and he pulled her from the hallway into their rooms.
Aegon pushed the large wooden door closed behind them with his foot. “Our boy’s off to train, and my Jaemma?” he asked.
“Just down for her nap in the nursery,” she responded, tilting her head to the side as his lips descended on her neck and coaxed a quiet moan from her lips.
“So as I understand it, I have my wife all to myself?” he mused, nipping at her ear and walking her back towards their bed.
“Hm, only for so long,” she whispered, running her hands through his hair. “So get to it, please.”
“So impatient, my wife,” he teased, slipping one hand around to the laces on the back of her dress.
“So wonderful, my husband,” she smiled, planting a short, sweet kiss that he smiled into.
“Remember just before you fell pregnant with Rhaelor, and you told me you wanted me to give you some beautiful Targaryen babies, as was my husbandly duty?” he asked, pressing kisses to her jaw and collarbone every few seconds.
“I’m not sure those were my exact words,” she argued, letting go of him momentarily to pull his shirt over his head before their hands returned to hungrily exploring each newly revealed patch of skin.
He smiled, his beautiful wicked grin that was actually quite sweet and had always made her heart flutter. She pushed her now-loosened dress down her hips, leaving her in her shift, and right away he reached down for her thigh to hook her leg over his hip. She held onto his shoulders for support as she took a shuddering breath, foreheads pressed together, and felt the jolt of his knees knocking into the bedframe.
“We’ve got one of each, now,” he stated breathlessly. “Think it’s time to tip the scales? Start on number three?”
She chuckled and cupped his cheek. “I must look far more beautiful with child than I feel, dear husband.”
He pressed a searing kiss to her lips as he lowered her down to their bed, following and covering her body with his a moment later. “You always look beautiful,” he promised, between leaving kisses on her bare shoulder and trailing a hand down to the hem of her shift.
Visenya reached down to start working on the laces of his breeches, so he sat up on his knees to help her, but once there, she let her hands fall away. He paused and looked up at her, eyes trailing over his lean, muscled form without shame.
He smirked, and she rolled her eyes half-heartedly. “See something you like, my sweet wife?”
She shook her head and smiled softly. “Something I love .”