Now I'm not a book purist by any means, and I can appreciate the changes the show has made for what they are. But I can't help but mourn the relationship between Aegon and Aemond (and Dearon).
In the books, Aegon and Aemond loved each other. Aemond was loyal to his brother to the end. When it came time for him to assume the title of Regent, he made a cheeky comment about the crown looking better on him, but at the end of the day, he never tried to take the title of King. When Aegon got back into power, he wanted a statue larger than the titan of Bravos (which is 400 ft), coated is gold, made of Aemond (and Dearon).
To see that brotherly relationship be twisted into what it is depicted on the show is sad in my opinion. As someone who has siblings that I love very much, despite getting deeply annoyed with them sometimes, seeing poor sibling relationships hurts my heart (especially between half-siblings; I have a half-sister who I love and have a great relationship with. And I would never even think to call her my half-sister in real life because, to me, adding that "half" diminishes the value of our relationship).
I do understand and appreciate show!Aegon and show!Aemonds relationship from a narritive stand point. And I think it's interesting how they have a different view of their lives growing up. But at the same time, I feel like this is just another way the writers are dogging on Team Green. By depicting Aegon and Aemond's dynamic as being worse than Daemon and Viserys', it comes across as another way to paint the Greens as inferior to the Blacks.
I promised something mean relating to the very over-rated Henry Fitzgerald early today. Lucky for y’all, work was slow and my inhibitions took a vacation today, so something I promised actually got done! This deals primarily with Henry and Liam James during the family reunion arc that’s still languishing. Please read the tags and please enjoy!
The Runaway Masterlist
warnings | bbu general warning, chain smoking, references to sobriety, implied past alcoholism, family reunion, trauma survivor, angst, anger, insults and swearing. Liam and Henry do not have a good relationship, and that’s not changing so know that going in.
~*~
He could hear Kieran chiding him later as he lit up outback of the James home. The chill of the concrete steps bit at him, even through his jeans, centering him for the first time in hours. The late autumn chill under his coat, the street noise, the outdoor lights turning his skin in a strange milky orange and casting shadows of his hands in unnatural shapes.
Henry inhaled deeply, coughing lightly as the smoke filled his lungs. He’d officially quit three years ago. The knowledge of it nagged at him, told him he was flirting with disaster. It was easier to stay away from the alcohol than cigarettes. He kept an emergency stash that everyone knew about, sneaking the occasional smoke out the window whenever everything felt on edge. His nerves had been on edge for hours. He rubbed his hands together, warming them. If he was honest with himself, he’d been fraying at the edges since he and Kieran were invited in that morning.
He leaned back onto his elbows and tilted his chin to the sky — rather, where he knew the sky was. He toyed with texting Carter, but pushed it away. The nicotine was doing the trick — at least for the moment — and it was late. Carter could wait until morning.
That’s if you can wait until morning, Henry rolled his eyes at himself. The edge of the step scraped against his back with every inhale. He pushed himself back up, hunching over.
This whole thing was overwhelming. Completely disorienting. Kieran had asked if he needed to leave two hours earlier and he was kicking himself for not taking the obvious escape it was. He’d brushed off his half-brother was a devil-may-care smile, saying that Kier didn’t have to baby him. This was family after all.
Technically.
Henry had told himself it would get easier. Seeing his old bedroom, track medals, and baby photos the day before had been exhausting but doable. Having lunch with Kieran and his assumed parents the day before that was difficult, stressful, but there had been joy in this. Sitting around with everyone. Dancing around the truth of the matter. Catching Andrew and Hanna’s wobbly side-glances, trying to avoid them and the residue they left on him without even a drink to quell the feeling.
He felt dirty sitting there, sucking hard on an old stale cigarette, head in his hands. Dirty inside and out. If someone decided to slash him to ribbons — and Henry was certain there were quite a few who’d line up to do just that — it wouldn’t be blood that spilled out but thick, foul mud.
He let the cigarette dangle from his fingers. He just needed a few minutes. Just a few minutes of just him and his own thoughts. Then he could rejoin and be pleasant, get through the rest of the night on a breeze. It would be fine. It would all be fine. He just needed a minute.
“Thought you’d be out here.”
“Fuck me running,” Henry mumbled into his palm. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Only one of the family was on his case enough to follow him outside. He mustered the last of his reserves. “What does mom need, Liam?”
“Don’t call her that,” the teenager snarled.
“Fine then, your mom.” Henry rolled his eyes. He turned to see the boy crammed up against the screen door, his arms coatless and crossed tight against the chill. The glare in his face, hardly concealed, told Henry everything he needed to know. “She doesn’t need anything does she?”
“You said it, not me,” Liam said. “Kier said to check on you. He’s helping my dad with something.”
“You could have just said our. Simple language is better.”
“If I did, then you’d think I was including you.”
“Oh well, we can’t have that, can we?”
If the kid wanted to pitch a petty fit, Henry would match him blow for blow. He was too tired to try playing completely nice for the moment. If he hadn’t been intimidated by the courtroom press corp, he wouldn’t let a sneering fifteen year old back him into a corner.
So he took a deep drag off his cigarette and blew it out slowly in Liam’s direction. He nodded to his hand. “Want one? I won’t tell.”
Liam’s nose scrunched up. “Gross.”
“Eh. Suit yourself.”
“You said you quit.”
“I said I’m sober,” Henry sighed, looking him up and down. “I thought you were smart enough to know the difference.”
“Hey-!”
“Besides, this is only the occasional vice.” Henry ashed the thing through the railing. “Meant exclusively for moments when certain little brothers decide to be smart asses.” He dug through his pockets for the carton, readying his second in a row. “I’m sure you know the type.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well said.”
Henry rolled his neck, tilting his head one way then the other. He rolled his shoulders, arching his back and stretching his arms up over his head. He didn’t feel good, but he certainly felt better. There was no need to play nice when Poppy couldn’t see or hear them. A strange knot in his chest seemed to loosen. He smiled at the old familiar feeling, closing his eyes and thinking of Alexander’s gobsmacked face. Nothing had ever felt as good as mouthing off to him.
A body dropped down on the stairs next to him. “They looked you up last night.”
“Who’s they, Liam?” Henry stomped out the first cigarette as he shoved the second between his lips. “Maybe they don’t teach this in your English classes, but be fucking specific.”
“Hanna and Andrew, ass wipe,” Liam spat back. He scrunched his nose up as Henry lit the second one with too-practiced fingers. “You’re disgusting.”
Henry exhaled in Liam’s face. “I’ve been called worse. Get creative or go back inside.”
“Fu—!”
“Hanna and Andrew looked me up. On what, the internet? Big deal, I was on television for two fucking months about six years ago. Our siblings can use Google, so what?”
“My siblings. Not yours.”
“Dare you to tell them that.”
“Why are you such a dick?”
“Matching your energy.” Henry smirked, then concentrated on his smoking.
After a few minutes, he turned to find Liam glaring at him. It was a hard and offended look, protective with a certain sharpness underneath. Henry blinked and refocused. No, that was just the surface. A hefty surface layer, yes, but only that. He couldn’t see underneath, not entirely, but he could see a crack. A wide crack running through the teenager’s face and body. Liam was more exposed than he even realized, Henry thought.
He held his cigarette limply and sucked in a lungful of cold air. He took a softer tone this time. “Why are you telling me this, Liam?”
The teenager turned away, curling inward on himself. “You were one of those… dolls.”
Henry choked on his next inhaled, sputtering into a closed fist. His eyes watered at the burn, his voice a croak when he finally forced words out. “Doll?”
“I don’t know! All the articles said you were some kind of sex doll for a politician!” Liam exclaimed, cheeks flaring embarrassed hot pink under the bad lighting. He pressed his palms into his eyes and groaned. “They didn’t clear the search history, so I did it for them. Stop laughing!”
“Not laughing. Hold this,” Henry rasped, holding the cigarette to Liam. The teenager surprised him by taking it for him. Henry bent forward, burying his face in his coat sleeves, hacking into the wool until his lungs finally stilled.
He sat up minutes later, feeling dizzy.
Liam sat there watching him, cigarette held in his lips.
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Thought that was gross.”
“I was being a smart ass.” Liam shrugged. “‘Sides, I’m not breathing it in.”
“Goody for you,” Henry croaked. “At least they can’t say I’ve corrupted the youth, or whatever.”
He held his hand out for the cigarette. Liam passed it back, watching him carefully as Henry put it back in his mouth. Henry tilted his head back in the cool air, closing his eyes. He probably looked hopelessly dependent to Liam; every inch of him screaming at him to get a hold of himself. He waved it away, pushed down the snarky voice of his own anger, and tried to tweeze out something like companionable silence from between the tightening fingers of Liam’s person next to him. He kicked himself seconds later for thinking the boy might let it last.
“So… it’s true?”
“What’s true?”
“What’s true,” Liam’s voice echoed in a snarky imitation. Henry almost smiled. “What we were saying before you hacked up a lung.”
“I know.” Henry whispered. Kieran would hear the rasp and put two and two together, lingering scent unnecessary. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Asshole.”
“Fraidy-cat.”
“Oh my god are you twelve?” Liam went quiet, expecting Henry to jab back.
Henry leaned back on his elbows, assuming the same uncomfortable position from long before, and stretched his legs out in front of him. He clung to the silence as long as he could. “If you can’t say it, it makes it something scary and terrible. I wasn’t the only one you know.”
Liam scoffed. “I know that. They’re everywhere.”
“No. I wasn’t the only one younger than eighteen.”
“Oh…” Henry could practically hear the boy swallow. “Okay.” A few more minutes of intense silence settled around them. The noise of the family moving into the kitchen broke around them, but no one came to find them. Finally: “Is it true you were a pre-made?”
Henry let out a short, bitter laugh. He never expected that word to come back around. He quickly stifled it. “Yes, it’s true. I was the town bicycle for Washington D.C.’s political perverts.”
He could feel Liam scrabbling for a question. Or a comeback. He didn’t know the kid well enough to tell and he doubted he ever would. The moment was nice and all but he knew in his gut once the teenager got his answers, they’d be back on the outs. It would be prickly and terse at best.
“Where’s the, um… the tattoo, thingy?”
Henry reached for his coat sleeve. He pushed it up to his elbow, showing off the faded black tattoo encasing the inside of his right wrist. He nodded to it. “See that?”
“Yeah.”
“I covered it up, but you can’t still feel it. Here-.” Henry motioned for Liam to touch, pressing his fingers to the crowded line of thin tree trunks. “The guy who did it disguised it, but it’s still there. Some people have it lasered off, but I couldn’t do it.”
Liam pulled his hand back quickly then seemed to regret it, as if he had been burned and then immediately forgot. He held his fingers in his other hand, staring at them curiously. When he remembered Henry was still there, he seemed to jump.
Then the wall went back up. “You voluntarily walk around with proof that you’re someone else’s sex doll instead of just getting rid of it? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Fuck you.” It was Henry’s turn to glare now. “When I got out — got myself out, by the fucking way — I wanted proof that it had all happened to me. That I wasn’t fucking nuts or completely paranoid. That something happened to me and I beat it myself. Just me. And everyone who helped? I set it all up so they could knock it down. D’you know that Neal Mahar guy on every news channel?”
“Yeah?” Liam squinted at him.
“The only reason he has what he has is because I got down on my knees and offered to suck him off, then told him where to look,” Henry snarled. For a moment, the other boy looked scared of him. Just a flash and gone, but enough to satisfy the creeping rage in his throat. “I know what the fuck I am, okay? Why do you think I’ve been quiet? Do you really think it would do your mom any good to know that the son she’s been missing was taken, given amnesia, renamed, and taught how to bend over just right for some sicko?”
Liam leaned away. Henry watched the fight and bite drain away from his face, then leaned away himself.
“That’s right. It’d kill her. And dad.” Henry sniffed and turned away. He flicked the cigarette away just as it threatened to burn his fingers. He let the dust settle, then jammed an elbow into Liam’s side. “You got your answer. Go back inside before they come looking for us.”
Liam didn’t move. It made Henry’s skin itch, the anger hardening in his throat. He turned sharply, ready to shove the kid back towards the door, then froze. Liam’s voice, shivery and stunned, stopped him.
“You looked like him. Just then,” he murmured. “There’s a video of him losing a race. He was pissed off about it, arguing with one of the refs.” Liam shivered, but Henry didn’t think it was because of the cold. “He made that same face… when, when he yelled. You looked just like him.”
“So?” Henry spat.
“Right,” Liam swallowed hard. “So.” His eyes flickered to the step between them, where Henry’s lighter and the carton of cigarettes sat forgotten. “C-can I have one of those?”
Henry shook his head, snatching them up and making for the door. “No. When you’re older.”
“When you’re older,” Liam mocked. Henry could feel his eyes on him, stinging. Then, a few seconds later: “You aren’t him. You can’t be.”
Henry frowned at his reflection in the back door. “I can’t be someone I can’t remember. I thought you were smarter enough to know that.”
