build bridges, not walls | house of the dragon
hi, after few requests here comes the second part for so cold. i dedicate this to those who, like me, wish the targaryens some peace, happiness and love but did not get it from mr martin and hbo. enjoy!
summary: what if the greatest war in the history of westeros was a dance of dragons observed only as they played in the sky, rather than the greatest slaughter to befall the targaryen family?
warnings: incest, not very intensively described sex scene, mourning for a child, memories of a murder
pairing: sister!targaryen reader x aegon targaryen (ft. rhaenyra the kind and daemon the best-uncle-ever)
taglist: @tabalugax @hummusxx @dacreshoney
In the middle of the children’s chamber sat a figure, kneeling by a small table. The person was turning carefully cast bronze figurines in their hands, examining them with unprecedented attention. The figure put down a small horse and reached for a dragon figurine, lifting and slowly turning it in their fingers. After a moment, the silence was broken by a sob, and the dragon disappeared into the folds of a dress, pressed tightly to the chest.
The young queen was struggling with grief over her son. Even if she managed to keep her emotions in check throughout the day, she spent her evenings crying. She could not come to terms with the loss, and the pain was tearing her heart apart.
Her husband was also engulfed in despair, but his grief was unlike that of his wife. The girl was consumed by sadness, sorrow, and despair, without any anger. Aegon, however, was driven by unimaginable rage. The anger burned him from the inside, and the young king tried to drown it in alcohol. As one might guess, it was in vain.
It had only been a few days since prince Jaehaerys was brutally murdered. The funeral took place three days after that terrible night when the guards were notified of the crime. For a week, the young couple had not spoken a word to each other, letting grief consume them individually. Yet no one understood them as they did each other.
Last night, when the princess found Aegon crying, a breakthrough occurred. The boy pulled her to himself and hugged her tightly, letting all his accumulated sorrow out. For the first time in what seemed like ages, they showed each other a bit of warmth, forced by the death of their son.
Aegon was on his way to a small council meeting. His fists were clenched, and his gaze was fixed blankly ahead. The path he always took led past the children’s playroom. He used to joyfully peek through the doors and greet the children, finding a moment to talk to them and see how they were. Now, however, he would gladly have the doors to the chamber sealed up or better yet, burn the entire wing of the castle down.
He quickened his pace, wanting to pass the room as quickly as possible. The doors were open, and unsettling sounds were coming from inside. Aegon stopped, his breath nervously catching in his throat. He hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided to push the heavy doors and enter. He found his sister sitting at a small table with toys. The queen was alone, with no guards at the entrance. She did not want anyone to witness her breakdown. The boy heard her crying.
Aegon did not think long. He cared little about the council meeting, where they would likely fare better without him. Without a word, he stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. He approached the girl uncertainly, just as she had approached him the night before when he cried alone. Aegon did not know if he was welcome or if his wife preferred to be alone. He decided to take the risk and, after a moment’s hesitation, sat behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close.
He pressed his lips to her shoulder, watching the dragon she held in her trembling hands.
They sat in silence and stillness for a while, the only sound being the uneven breath of the queen trying to stifle her sobs. Aegon reached for a swan figurine, smiling slightly.
“He always gave you this one to play with,” he said quietly, looking at the figurine. His other arm still held his wife. “Of all the animals, he thought you resembled a swan the most.”
The girl smiled sadly as her eyes caught sight of a donkey figurine. “Do you remember when he gave you the donkey?”
Aegon chuckled softly, putting down the swan and picking up the donkey figurine. “I wanted to be a dragon, and he gave me a lesson in humility.”
The girl wiped her wet cheeks, looking around the empty room. She sighed heavily, trying to push away another wave of despair that washed over her.
“I miss him so much,” she whispered with difficulty, sinking back into tears.
“Come here,” he said, holding her tightly when she turned towards him and snuggled into him. Aegon rested his chin on her head, holding her firmly in his arms. He was also struggling with unimaginable pain, but he was not struggling alone. There was someone else, his sister, his wife, and the mother of his children, who suffered just as much, if not more. One night, Aegon heard her cursing the Seven, condemning the world, and blaming herself for not saving their son. He heard her crying, saying that she should have been the one to die.
“This has to end, Aegon,” she whispered after a moment, pressing her head to his chest. “This has all gone too far.”
“It will end soon, I promise,” he assured her, kissing her hair. “I’ll burn down the Dragonstone and wipe out that nest of vipers.”
“No, no,” the girl quickly shook her head, looking up at his face. “Enough death, there’s been far too much already.”
Aegon smiled, cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears with his thumb.
“No, there hasn’t. There will be more if I don’t destroy Rhaenyra and her band of bastards.”
“We are family,” she tightened her grip on his wrist but did not push his hand away. “There is nothing worse than war among family members, especially when dragons fight each other.”
The king’s smile faded, and his eyes nervously scanned his wife’s face. He wanted to pull his hand away, but she wouldn’t let him.
“Please, Aegon,” she touched his cheek. “Don’t go down that path, I beg you.”
“That bitch murdered my son, and what, I should just accept it?” he asked angrily, pushing her hand away.
“Not only your son but mine too,” she replied, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “But I don’t want to process my grief with revenge.”
The boy was about to respond when the frown between his brows began to soften. His gaze cooled and gentled entirely when he looked at his wife’s face again. He saw in front of him his complete opposite, despite being like two drops of water. The same hair color, the same eyes, the identical skin tone, the same blood running through their veins. But Aegon’s blood pumped a heart filled with sorrow and hatred, while the young queen’s heart was torn and filled with sadness. Despite the pain that connected them, they were experiencing grief entirely differently.
The girl touched his cheek after a moment. “Let’s not solve this with war.”
Aegon sighed and closed his eyes, feeling her thumb slowly slide across his skin.
“What do you propose then?” he asked, his eyes still closed.
“A reconciliation of the warring sides,” she said. She noticed his eyelid twitch nervously, but he remained composed and silent. “Rhaenyra will recognize your rule and bend the knee, Aemond will express remorse for the death of Lucerys, and Daemon for that mistake—”
When the girl realized she had said too much, it was already too late. The air in the room thickened instantly, and a pair of violet eyes pierced her like a dagger.
“Daemon?” he asked, barely spitting out the name of his uncle. “And what, fucking, mistake?”
The young queen wanted to get up from the floor, to be as far away from the ticking bomb ready to explode, but Aegon grabbed her by the hips and pushed her down. He sat on her and immobilized her wrists.
The girl tried to push him off her, but he tightened his grip and shook her violently.
“It was supposed to be Aemond!” she cried, turning her head away from his furious face. “A son for a son!”
“For fucks sake!” Aegon roared, standing up and kicking the table. The toys scattered on the ground. “How did they mistake a five-year-old for a grown man without an eye?!”
The girl sat up, curling her legs and quickly moving as far away as possible, but her back soon met the hard wood of the wardrobe. She knew Aegon was furious and it was freezing her blood.
“How do you know this?” he asked, turning towards her. She looked up at him from below, terrified and unable to utter a word.
The boy took a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.
“I asked,” he began slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. “How do you know this?”
“I flew to Dragonstone,” she said, hugging herself with her arms. “I had to do it, I had to talk to her—”
“They could have killed you!” he shouted, losing all the composure he had tried to maintain. “They could have dealt me the hardest blow, the last one they had left!”
Aegon began to pace nervously around the room. He didn’t even notice when he started to cry himself.
The young queen covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stifle her sobs. Aegon’s fury frightened her more than the specter of war.
The boy knew he had overstepped. She was not to blame, and there was no reason to raise his voice or, worse, his hand at her. He looked at his sister, who sat huddled like a frightened animal. Aegon sighed and approached her. He knelt, taking her face in his hands.
“They could have taken you from me, you understand?” he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. “They could have taken the last meaning of life I had left.”
"Rhaenyra doesn't want war," she replied equally softly, her voice trembling. "And no one wanted to hurt me."
Aegon silently looked at her face, his gaze moving across her features. Her swollen, tear-filled eyes, wet, flushed cheeks, and chapped lips. She had beautiful lips, he thought. She was beautiful all over.
The young king ran his thumb over her lower lip, and the last tear he had under his eyelids trickled down his cheek.
"I love you," he said, shifting his gaze back to her eyes. "I love you unimaginably."
The girl was about to say something, but he leaned in and kissed her deeply. He pressed her firmly against him, making the wood of the wardrobe she was leaning against creak.
The young queen returned the kiss, hesitantly placing her hands on his shoulders. Her brother's mood swings had terrified her even before they were married. As if sensing her uncertainty, Aegon took her hands and kissed each of them.
"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered, pressing her hands to his cheeks. "I'm sorry."
In response, she lifted his face and kissed him again. Aegon straightened her legs, wrapping them around his waist. The young queen understood him without words, wrapping her legs around his hips. Without breaking their kisses, Aegon grabbed her firmly and pulled her close, making her the one pressing him to the ground, sitting on him.
"Make love with me," he whispered, pulling away from her lips. "Please."
The girl kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck, silently agreeing to his request. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he embraced her waist, kissing her tenderly. Their tongues did not battle but performed a dance of love. Their hungry lips could not tear themselves away from each other for even a moment.
Aegon lifted the folds of her dress, sliding his hands under it. He squeezed her bare thighs, making her sigh into his mouth. They both needed a bit of warmth.
"Not here," she whispered into his mouth after a moment. "I don't want—"
"I understand," he replied, easily reading her thoughts. This room was more sacred than the Great Sept of Baelor.
Soon, they found themselves in their shared chamber, which they had only used twice before. They had only been together in their marital bed during the bedding ceremony; every other night, they spent alone. But this night was not one of those.
Naked bodies were entwined, and soft moans and prolonged sighs filled the walls, warming them more than the fire dancing in the fireplace.
"You are so beautiful," Aegon whispered as her lips parted at the sudden, intense feeling. "So beautiful."
He pulled out of her as slowly as he had entered her a moment earlier. Their sweaty foreheads rested against each other, and their hands, thirsty for contact, grasped every piece of skin.
"Please," she moaned softly, gripping his hips with her fingers. She tried to pull him closer to her. Aegon braced his elbows on either side of her head and entwined his fingers in her hair, lying on her with his full weight. The girl let out a soft moan; it was a sweet weight. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he kissed her deeply. Without breaking the dance of their tongues, he slowly began to move within her hot, tight interior. Soft moans and sighs escaped the young queen's lips, which Aegon drank as if they were sweet nectar.
"I love you," she whispered when he pulled away to admire her blissful face. "I love you, my dearest."
Aegon's cheeks were flushed, his light hair disheveled. His eyes gleamed, not with tears this time, but with desire. He held his sister in his arms, the closest person to him, blood of his blood. His wife, the mother of his children. The young queen who was willing to risk her life to protect the realm from disaster. For the first time, Aegon sincerely and deeply understood that he loved her. And it was an unimaginable love.
"I would die for you," he touched her cheek. "What is the killing of a million, two million, the whole world? I would give my life for you."
The girl breathed shallowly, her heart pounding wildly. Aegon had never confessed his love to her, certainly never in this way. She saw the fire of emotions in his eyes, saw the love with which he looked at her. For the first time, she felt she did not have a stranger beside her but someone who was closest to her.
She gently touched his cheek and ran her thumb over it, and Aegon joined their lips again after a moment. That night, one of the chambers in the Red Keep was filled with unimaginable love, and the castle walls had never heard so many tender words before.
Jaehaerys' death was an unimaginable tragedy, but the boy did not die in vain. His death united two people in love. Not the forced marriage or even the birth of two children did that, no. To feel love, the young couple first had to experience unimaginable grief.
Aegon, in the eyes of the family, lords, and servants, was considered irresponsible and impulsive. He was often insolent and cruel, and in anger, terrifying and unpredictable. His sister, now his wife and the young queen, was no exception. As a child, she did not like her eldest brother, who often teased her and pulled her hair. In later years, she avoided him like the plague because it seemed best for her. By avoiding him, she did not have to endure his difficult character. When the old king died and Aegon ascended the throne, his temper cooled somewhat. He still sought amusement in wine and pleasures, but sometimes he remembered he was a king and had duties to fulfill. Often, when in a good mood, he enthusiastically participated in meetings with commoners, listening to their complaints, requests, and grievances.
During one audience, his wife accompanied him, sitting on a soft seat right by his knees. When one of the peasants asked for the return of his sheep, which had been sent as food for the dragons, Aegon was genuinely concerned. He wanted to help the commoner and even offered to return the sheep. The young queen could not believe her ears; she had to discreetly turn around to see if the same boy she had known since childhood was sitting next to her. Aegon's concerned gaze rested on his sister's face before returning to the worried peasant. Aegon was concerned and wanted to solve this problem, much to the probable surprise of everyone, in favor of the farmer. The young, cruel king felt responsible for his people for the first time and wanted to help as best as he could.
However, his anger remained terrible and showed its destructive power. When he learned of his son's death, he demolished their father's chamber, destroying everything in his path. The hands that had clutched a sword so tightly then gently held a soft body now. The lips that had shouted and uttered death threats now whispered tenderly, bestowing sweet kisses. The gaze, so often indifferent and cold, now looked with love. At that moment, he was not Aegon the Ruthless.
"Aegon the Tender," the girl said softly as they lay cuddled together. "Aegon of House Targaryen, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. But simply, Aegon the Tender."
The boy smiled at her words. His sister lay snuggled against him, resting her cheek on his chest, gently sliding her fingers over it.
"Aegon the Tender?" he asked, glancing at her. "That's the nickname you'd give me?"
The young queen nodded without moving away from him. It was pleasant to feel his fingers tracing patterns on her bare back.
"King of Soft Kisses, Sweet Words, and Lord of Pleasure," she added, smiling as his chest trembled. The boy laughed at her words.
"I'll gladly present this idea to the council."
They lay cuddled in silence, their steady breaths finding a common rhythm. After a while, though, the girl propped herself up on her elbow and looked at his face.
"I believe, I deeply believe, that you are not cruel," she began, looking into his violet eyes. "I sincerely hope that you do not want war either."
Aegon lowered his gaze. The girl continued, touching his cheek.
"Please, make peace with Rhaenyra. Please."
The young king sighed but returned his gaze to his sister's still-blushed face.
"So, what do you think I should do?"
"Just allow it," she ran her thumb over his cheek. "I will make sure Rhaenyra accepts you as king. Aemond will express remorse for Lucerys' death, and Daemon—"
"Let it be so," he did not let her finish, but he looked up at her, wanting to reassure her with his words. "But I don't want them in the palace. After everything, let them stay on Dragonstone."
The young queen smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead.
"Every day, you are becoming a better ruler, my sweet king,"
Aegon pulled her close again, enclosing her in a strong embrace.
"Let's keep this between us, alright?" she requested, pressing her cheek against his chest once more. "I'll handle this myself, without the help of Mother and the Hand. They've done enough."
The next evening, the young queen was preparing once again to visit Dragonstone. Clad in a cloak and cape, she was about to leave her chamber when one of the maids appeared in the doorway, holding a tearful Jaehaera in her arms.
"Your Grace," the maid began worriedly before the queen could ask what had happened. She rocked the girl on her hip, whose cheeks were streaked with tears. "The princess doesn’t want to sleep. She’s been calling for you the entire time."
The girl took her daughter, who immediately clung tightly to her.
"There, there, darling," she whispered, kissing her hair. She began to gently rock the girl in her arms.
"Are you going somewhere, my lady?" the maid asked uncertainly, seeing that the queen was dressed to go out. "It’s terribly late."
"You know I sleep poorly," she replied, pressing her cheek to her daughter’s head. "Without a walk before bed, I can't shut my eyes."
"Your insomnia likely affects the princess as well, Your Grace," the maid smiled sadly.
The girl kissed her daughter again.
"You may leave," she glanced at the woman. "Jaehaera will sleep with me tonight."
The maid quickly bowed and obediently left the chamber, quietly closing the door behind her. The young queen rocked her daughter in her arms. However, it was clear the girl wouldn't fall asleep.
"How about we take a flight on the dragon before bed?" she asked. The girl wiped her tears with her small hand and nodded. The mother kissed her on the forehead, got her ready for the journey, and then, under the cover of night, they left the castle together. Jaehaera stopped crying as soon as she snuggled into her mother. The calm emanating from her mother soothed the girl, and she wasn’t frightened by the darkness of the Dragonpit. The dragons sensed the child's presence and remained peaceful. They didn't make their usual noise but lay quietly, watching as the woman with the child approached Vermithor, who awoke as soon as they left the castle.
"Big," Jaehaera smiled, pointing at the bronze giant whose snout lay flat on the ground. The dragon gently observed the mother and daughter, clearly pleased by their presence.
"Yes, Vermithor is very big," the girl smiled. "Would you like to ride such a big dragon?"
The girl nodded happily, stretching her small hand forward. The young queen approached the dragon, allowing her daughter to stroke its scales. The last thing on little Jaehaera’s mind was sleep.
They sat on the dragon's back, and the mother positioned her daughter in front of her, wrapping her in her cloak. She kissed her hooded head and commanded Vermithor to head to Dragonstone. She didn’t need to say more; the dragon knew exactly where to go.
Only when Vermithor took to the air, and the girl heard her daughter’s excited squeal, did she realize it was the first time Jaehaera had ridden a dragon. It was their first time doing something together without a crowd of servants and a dozen guards. It was just the two of them. Mother and daughter. The young queen smiled at the sudden warmth in her heart. She hugged the girl tighter.
They reached Dragonstone without any issues. Jaehaera sat quietly the entire way, occasionally muttering words of approval towards Vermithor.
When they stood before the castle gates, the woman removed the hood from her own head and her daughter’s. The guards were genuinely surprised to see the unexpected guests.
"Your Grace, princess," they greeted, straightening up. They didn’t have time to ask what brought them to the castle at such an hour, as the gate opened and Jacaerys appeared outside. Despite the darkness, the young prince must have noticed the dragon. He smiled at the sight of his aunt and cousin.
"Your Grace-," he couldn’t finish, as the girl approached and hugged him tightly. She hadn’t seen her nephew in a long time.
"Jace," Jaehaera said, pointing at her cousin. The boy smiled emotionally, kissing her on the forehead.
"It's so good to see you," he said, gesturing for them to come inside. "Come, princess has been expecting you."
Indeed, Rhaenyra awaited her sister in the main hall. It was clear she had been woken from sleep; this time, however, she had managed to put on a robe. She was surprised to see her niece. Smiling, her eyes filled with tears as she quickly approached and hugged her sister, kissing the girl she held in her arms on the forehead.
"You have no idea how much joy you've brought me," she said, caressing the little girl’s cheek.
"And I’ll bring you even more joy," she added, smiling. Rhaenyra looked into her eyes. She saw that her sister wasn’t carrying bad news.
Jaehaera played with Jacaerys by the fireplace as the two women sat at the table.
Rhaenyra didn’t have a chance to speak as her sister immediately started.
"Aegon doesn't want war," she said, feeling as if she were lifting a great burden off her shoulders with those words. "He has no intention of starting a bloodshed."
Rhaenyra smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders as well.
"He wants you to acknowledge him as king," she replied, looking at her sister’s face. "And he expects Daemon to apologize."
The princess took a deep breath, leaning back and resting against the chair. To be honest, she had heard exactly what she expected.
"He will express his regret for Lucerys’ death," she assured.
"And Dragonstone?" she looked at her sister.
"He has no intention of expelling you. He would be genuinely happy if you stayed here."
Rhaenyra remained silent for a moment but eventually nodded. She knew there was no other way. One of the dragons had to yield, and fortunately, it didn’t come to a clash between two males.
"Let it be so," she smiled. "Let peace finally reign."
The young queen returned her smile and hugged her tightly.
Moments later, Daemon entered the chamber, and the atmosphere seemed to instantly thicken. Jaehaera, sitting by the fireplace, pointed at her uncle and smiled innocently. She had no idea it was because of him that her brother had died.
"And who do we have here," Daemon smiled, approaching her. Jacaerys nervously glanced at his mother and aunt, but they didn’t move an inch. The young queen felt a tight knot form in her throat.
Daemon picked up the girl and kissed her cheek.
"Did you fly on a dragon for the first time today?" he asked, to which she nodded. "Really? You weren’t scared?"
Jaehaera shook her head, gesturing with her hand to show how big the dragon she had ridden with her mother was.
"The courage of the Targaryen women never ceases to amaze me," he said, this time directing his words to the women sitting nearby. The young queen exhaled, trying to relax. If peace was to prevail, they would all have to learn to trust each other again. Everyone, without exception.
"Aegon expects an apology," Rhaenyra announced, looking at her husband. He didn’t look at her, being occupied with showing the girl the dragon brooch on his robe.
"I am aware of that," he replied. "I will apologize if Aemond does the same."
"He will also apologize," the young queen interjected, looking at her uncle. "I will ensure it."
"Then we will all be a family again," Daemon smiled at Jaehaera, each word accompanied by his fingers tickling the girl’s belly, making her laugh.
The women looked at each other, and Rhaenyra simply nodded, squeezing her sister's hand reassuringly. Storm clouds began to disperse over the dragon's house.
