#tti update

[gorbo-longstocking]

The Things Inside | Chapter Two

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

Summary: A lost little puppy shows up at your doorstep, all bark and no bite. If he turned out to be a prince, that was neither here nor there. All you’re really sure of is that he’s the sweetest darned thing you ever did see.

Content warnings: Blood and gore, casual murder, head injury, likely innacurate geography and lore tidbits, I’m trying, and the use of the nickname puppy, not for y/n, but for Aegon.

Word Count: 6.5k words

Read on AO3

It was a week later before you had time to blink, most of it spent in relative tedium. You toiled endlessly in the garden, uncaring of the rest of the farm as that wasn’t where your expertise laid. Growing never appealed to you outside of it being what gave you your meals. A garden was enough to satiate you anyway, considering that all you’d ever had was ‘me, myself, and I.’ It wasn’t like you intended to stay here long enough to attend to harvest after harvest, or even a single harvest at that. For now, you’d let the fields run wild, leave ‘em alone to their own devices. The plants would either live or die, and neither outcome made you feel any specific type of way. What mattered to you was stocking up on the herbs in the garden for wherever you intended to go next. Your line of work tended to get you hurt more often than others.

With the handsaw and the stocks of wood in the barn, you replaced the front door better than you’d left it. That took the better part of the day, your new cat unwilling to leave you alone, much to your amusement. Little Mango had taken to you like bees to honey and that made you more happy than you cared to admit. The other animals on the farm liked you well enough too, though you tried not to get too attached to much else aside from Hazelnut, your first ever horse. Earlier in the day, you had rigged up a cart to her, with the other animals leashed by your side, ready to make the trek to civilization. Or, as close to one as you could get. Within the cottage, you’d found directions revealing that there was a small village some miles away to the east. There, you’d sell your livestock for a bit of coin.

Over time, it became glaringly obvious that you were very, very far from home. Or, as far as a different time period was, let alone another world entirely. While the written language was understandable enough, it was an old form of English that you had quite a bit of trouble parsing at first. Education in your mountain town hadn’t been the best, but it got you by well enough to figure out what most of it meant after an hour or so. What little money you had found in the cottage was hardly recognizable as any that you knew of, nothing more than coins carved with care. No matter how much effort went into the coin’s etchings or moldings, none of it was uniform enough to be considered modern. The final nail in the coffin was a rudimentary map you had found in one of the desk drawers depicting a continent that you were certain didn’t exist. You had hummed and studied it as best you could. Unfortunately, the quality left much to be desired and you promptly gave up.

Every one of your suspicions had been confirmed as soon as you arrived at that little village, too small to be considered much else. It couldn’t’ve had a population more than a couple hundred, the houses obvious in the fact that they had been built by hand rather than a cookie-cutter contractor. Even in the deepest, most rural land, you doubted there was anything quite like this.

The road was mud, thick and goopy, no matter how well trod. If a home wasn’t made of cobblestone, it was made of wood and logs, none bigger than a few rooms at most. A few people milled about, dressed in drab colors and threadbare clothes. Health seemed to be a distant apparition to these people, those you talked to were missing more teeth than the woman you killed had, and most were too skinny than what could be right. More of them had a hacking a lung rattling cough than those who weren’t. In comparison, you were well cared for, which was ridiculous considering that most back home would know you as a holler boy just from looking at you. You were missing a molar or two, unwilling to shell out cash to a dentist for what you could take care of at home. Admittedly, your diet had left your bigger frame less filled out than other men due to your insistence to only eat meat if it came from one of your own, and your hair was greasier than those who had a shower to their name. All you really used was some soap and a hose, if not a bucket with some holes poked in.

That didn’t mean that, in comparison to these folks, you weren’t the picture of health, maybe even of beauty. You were watched with no small amount of caution, made even worse once you got to talking with that accent of yours. It seemed everyone here was English in some way, your distinctly American manner of speech othering you in a way that you couldn’t say that you were unused to. Even back home, people had their own opinions on hillbillies, their prejudice apparently soon as they heard that accent slip from your lips. Classism was an insidious little beast, another one of humanity's great sins, though it seemed these people believed you to be upper crust and foreign rather than native and common. Honestly, you’d’ve preferred to be considered poor rather’n some hoity-toity snob.

“You’ll be sellin’ all of them?” The man perched on a bench in one of the merchant stalls asked, a single eyebrow raised. Behind him were stables full of animals, for sale or for holding, there were no labels back there. You assumed the man knew off the top of his head. “Horse, too?”

Shaking your head, you gave him a small smile and patted your horse on the snout. “Ah, nah, sir. Hazelnut’s mine.”

For some reason, he sat a little taller and regarded you with a severity that you found yourself offended by. There would be no point in allowing his once over to make you blanch because you knew that, if it came to blows, you would be the one who came out alive. He sniffed and looked at you with disdain. “I’m no knight, boy. What’s your accent? Where are you from?”

“You wouldn’t know it if I told you.” With a final grin, you held out your hand for your payment. Your livestock were already in his pen but the man had yet to hand over the coin he had promised. As much as you’d rather not make a scene, your temper was frayed and you weren’t sure if you could hold back if this kept up. “C’mon, now. Y’all got my stock, payment is due.”

“Dornish?” The man continued his rather rude inquiries, though he put the sack of coin in your hand causing your hackles to lower. He sniffed and sat back with his arms crossed. “I’ve never heard an accent like yours. From Essos, maybe. Never seen one of them before.”

You shook your head and slipped the coin into one of your newfound cloaks, one that you hadn’t taken ribbons from to dress your wounds. “Ain’t never heard of those places, neither. I’m from farther, I reckon. Keep safe.”

All of the response you got was a shooing motion and an annoyed chuff. With your horse’s reins in hand, you led her off and away from the man. There was an urge to take his throat out itching beneath your skin, but you held steadfast. This was a small town, likely tight-knit. Even if you caught him alone, he’d be missed and all eyes’d turn to the newcomer with the strange accent. At the very least, the people who you’d killed a week ago lived far enough away and were — <i>hopefully</i> — ornery enough that they didn’t come into town often. You hummed and limped to another stall to browse their wares with your newfound coin.

Everywhere you went, you were met with rudeness and barely concealed suspicion. Thankfully, that didn’t stop no one from taking your money, and with your rucksack full of everything you wanted, you hopped back into the cart, drawn by Hazelnut, and returned to the cottage. As you traveled, you took stock of your inventory to try and figure out how you’d be spending your night. Traveling by horse took a lot longer than by car. What was only a few miles took several hours to get to, which left you with enough time to let your mind run free with plans.

First, you’d need a way to continue making money. There was still that dairy cow on the farm and you could always sell her milk— pasteurized, of course, a particular treatment those around wouldn’t be privy to. Your garden was self sufficient and enough to feed you until the winter, possibly longer if you started canning now. Of course, while you had no real intention of tending to the fields, you’d take what you could of the harvest. Sell that, or what have you.

Most of your money’d be made the same way you’d gathered it back home. Killing and robbing travelers, or your moonshine. Despite the medieval setting, you had stumbled upon some stores of corn, likely a crop that Addam and his wife grew the past season. While you much preferred using sugar for the cleaner taste, corn made a much more traditional spirit and was what you had started with when you began distilling. You knew how to brew a jar that could knock even the strongest alcoholic on their ass, a skill you could use to your advantage here. Killin’ would take more caution that you’d employed in some time considering the dwindling population nearby, so, for now, you’d begun fermenting. Legality didn’t matter much to you — never did, once you got in the habit of murder everything felt like small potatoes after — and you doubted there was no regulation ‘round here like there was back home. You were golden as long as you had buyers.

Within your rucksack, what had been considered trash was taken by you as a treasure. Old horseshoes, nails, and scrap that you could use at your discretion. You had no illusions of setting yourself up with electricity, nothing in regards to anything of that magnitude. All you really wanted was a drill and a nail gun, two items you could reverse engineer from the mechanics of your handsaw. Before you’d gone out, you took it apart, laying out its insides in a neat row. Once you returned home, you’d compare the motor to what you’d gathered. From your estimations, you could build what you wanted no problem. It’d be nice to have more of your tools at your disposal, less for construction, more for enjoyment.

Hazelnut whinnied and you jerked your head up to see that you were home now. Ahead of you, the sun hung low in the horizon, not yet sunset, but getting there rather soon. You took care stepping out of the cart so as not to put too much pressure on your injured leg. Taking Hazelnut’s reins and unhooking her from the cart to house her at her stable, you gave her a small kiss on the snout. As a thank you, an apple was pulled from your rucksack. She ate it with vigor.

Mango meowed, muffled by the rat in her mouth, pattering over to drop it at your feet. You gave her a skritch between the ears, picking her up under your arm before she could get to eating. Something much better laid in your rucksack. To your surprise, she hardly squirmed. Instead, Mango dug her claws into your cloak in an attempt to scale you so she could rub her face against yours. It all made you smile, her untainted affection enough to make your heart swell.

Animals were untouched by evil, you believed that to be truer than nothin’ else there was. Humanity was cruel, but animals were the last innocence there was left. Your duty was to tend to that loyally. Even the most rotten of beasts could hardly conceptualize the pain they had wrought, quite unlike their masters who were capable of unfathomable cruelty.

You were not exempt from that. Being human was what had made you the way you were. In a better world, you were some predator animal, lunching on his prey with wild abandon. Instead, you were a man, sick in the head, and human to your core. One day, you’d pay for that crime, though it wouldn’t be your own blade that’d bring you to justice.

Once inside, you set Mango down on the kitchen floor, smiling as she purred and weaved between your calves. From your rucksack, you pulled out a medium sized fish, unwrapping the paper that kept its juice from staining your sack’s insides. With a cleaver, you chopped off its head, taking great care to butcher it with perfect precision. Its offal was swept off to the side, to be disposed of in the garden. The rest was sliced into bite sized cubes for Mango to feast upon. As soon as you’d fixed it in the same wooden bowl you’d filled full of brain, you set it on the floor, allowing her to eat. Loud, open mouthed purrs rumbled from Mango’s little body as she gorged herself. With a final, satisfied pat, you exited into a nearby room where your disassembled handsaw sat, ready to be put back together at will. An empty notebook full of your own doodled diagrams of what you wanted to craft laid open beside it.

Piece by piece, you puzzled the handsaw back together, only to take it apart again. You hummed, examining the motor and drew up a few possible ways that you could cobble one together for a drill. Rather than a bit, you could melt some scrap metal into a handmade mold to increase the pain it’d cause. Already, ideas ran wild through your skull, a giggle escaping from behind your lips. You held up a rusty nail and examined it under the light, a softened wonder in your gaze as you imagined how it would feel, spinning in the flesh of your shoulder.

A frantic knock at the door made you startle. You set aside the nail, confusion inching your eyebrows together until they were met in the middle. Who could it be all the way out here, at this hour, no less? Maybe one of the villagers decided to follow you home. It was a shame that you hadn’t been able to put your handsaw back together quite yet. Another knock came, both hurried and insistent, continuing for several seconds longer than was polite. You plucked your cleaver from where it was buried in the cutting board as you made your way to answer the door.

The pounding continued, even as you turned the knob, causing the perpetrator to stumble past the threshold and into the cottage. Your intruder was smaller than you, almost dainty, barely paying you any mind considering that they were far more focused on closing the door behind them. Alcohol was what you smelled first, followed by the sourness of vomit and the metallic stench of blood. Your gaze was pulled to the intruder's feet where a few drops of red were smeared onto the floorboards when they turned around.

His voice held a hint of a nasal to it, far more posh than the villagers. “Barricade the door!”

Not a request, rather a command. Rude, if not adorable coming from a man that you could pick up by the head. Rather than obey, you took him in with a slow, confused blink.

You had read Lord of the Rings in middle school, taken by the otherworldly beauty of the elves within the pages, though unable to truly conceptualize it. Here and now, staring at this befuddled man when you failed to obey, you understood now. Silver-white hair, though ragged, hung in loose waves just at his jaw. His bone structure was both square and doll-like, an imperial delicateness to it that made you wonder if he was made of porcelain. Purposefully widened eyes met yours as he held the door closed with his weight, palms flat against the wood, his irises a shade of purple that you were certain was alien.

He growled, a genuinely animal sound and gasped out the demand from before punctuated by pushes of his palms against the wood. “Barricade the fucking door!”

Above his head, you lifted your hand to hook the latch and grinned. You tossed the cleaver across the room, uncaring and far more taken with the man in front of you. To your surprise, he hardly paid the weapon any mind, fixated on your rudimentary lock. His side was bleeding, though he was unwilling to release the door to put pressure on the wound. Within his silver strands, there were clumped pieces stained red, thankfully dried rather than wet. When all you did was stand there, he gave you a bewildered sort of glare. Slowly, he enunciated every word like one would to a child, “Can you understand what I am saying?”

“Lookit you, sweet puppy, you’re hurt.” Carefully, you encircled his wrists with your fingers and pried him from the door. His jaw fell agape as if you’d gone insane. He didn’t pull away, though, more afraid of whatever laid outside than he was of you.

“Puppy?” His lips twitched downward, feet seemingly moving of their own accord as you led him to the bedroom. With his jaw working, even his confusion looked adorable, his eyes wide and round, no matter how much he tried to narrow them. “Have you gone mad? Do you know who I am?” He cast a glance behind you at the door, then at you, thinking for a moment before he decided he’d rather a mad man than whatever waited outside.

“Nah. Am I s’possed to?” Now that he was sitting on the bed, his hand was pressed on his leaking wound to try and staunch the flow of blood. The more you talked, your accent anything but unnoticeable, the more his features twisted. His lips were parted and his head gave a little twitch as he studied you. “Someone comin’ after you? Looks like they got you on the head. Let me check, puppy?”

“Pu— If you do not know who I am, then what are you doing in the Crownlands?” Humor at your expense made him snort. “You must be a foreigner, but even a foreigner would never dare to call me that.”

Ignoring his rudeness, you found yourself taken by the softness of his hair as you prodded at his scalp. There was a cut at the top of his head and he sucked in a breath through his teeth when you brushed the pad of your finger against it. “Not bleedin’ no more. Lucky, lucky you, sometimes cuts like these bleed ‘till there’s no more left in you.”

He swatted you away and gestured to the cut on his side. “Do not focus on what has stopped bleeding and focus on my gushing wound. Agh, I feel dizzy.”

“Blood loss, puppy, need’ta fill you full of red meat and water after this.” You stepped away to find a pair of scissors to cut away his clothes around the cut. It was hard not to nick him with how much he flinched, but you held fast until you could see how deep it went. No stitches. That was good. All you had to do was patch him up.

The man snorted while you studied him, genuine sarcasm dry on his tongue. “I’d rather some wine.”

Tsk’ing, you wagged your finger at him. “Need your wits about you. You were bein’ followed, weren’t you?”

“I can do as a please,” He sneered despite the anxiety that was slowly inching onto his expression. As he craned his neck to see the front door, a bit of him lifted on the bed. You pushed him back flat by his shoulders. “I doubt they were able to follow me… I’m quick when I put my mind to it.”

With a hum, you stood and cocked your head to the side. “You really think that your hunter would let such a handsome doe get away so easily?”

His pupils jerked from the front door to you, no small amount of warning in them. “So I am a doe now to you, not even a stag, let alone a prince? If you were not my savior, I would have you hanged. The prospect grows ever tempting.”

“Stags are majestic, does’re pretty and so are princes. ‘Sides, you got these big eyes, sir, and such a pretty purple, too. Can’t fault a man for admirin’.” Without waiting for a response, though you heard the man let out a bemused hum, you left the room to retrieve some supplies. A bucket full of water, a rag, and some herbs to make a poultice. When you returned, the man was snooping, digging through a nearby drawer, the letters from Addam’s son unfolded haphazardly on the desk. The only reason you weren’t offended was because this wasn’t yours— not really. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you could stay mad at a man as cute as this one. “Sniffin’ around, puppy?”

While his jump made it evident he was startled, he looked in no way apologetic. Rather than answer your question, his eyes trailed to your supplies and he gripped his side a little tighter. “No leeches?”

“Now that’s old fashioned. I got some herbs from the garden, they’ll keep infection from settin’ in.” You didn’t gesture for him to sit, you simply stared until his skin visibly crawled and he had no choice but to obey. Nothing about his movements were dainty as he flopped back onto the bed, allowing his legs to kick straight out. He removed his hand, bracing it behind him instead.

“On with it, then,” came his frustrated sigh. Under his breath, he added, “Never known a maester to look quite like you.”

You didn’t grace the grumble with a response. Rather, you cleaned his cut with the rag and water, ignoring every hiss he made, oddly snake-like as you dabbed at his skin. He ran hotter than you expected, as if his blood was made of fire. Once the wound was clear, you took note of any inflammation. The herbs would help with that in the end. You popped several leaves in your mouth and began to chew before spitting the poultice into your hand. Only an inch away from touching him, he seemed to realize what you’d done and flinched away from you.

“Mortar and pestle?” He insisted. You ignored him, holding his squirming body still as you rubbed the mixture into the wound. Another hiss left him, mingling with a strange chirping growl that was impossible to mistake for anything but disgust.

“So prissy, you must be a prince,” You said with a laugh.

Another round of disbelief made his eyebrows merge, still angled away from you. “Are you— Do you not know who I am? Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows who I am.”

Ah. So there were seven kingdoms, that was good to know. Maybe that meant there were seven kings, making your intruder-pup more likely to be a prince than he was before. Honestly, the more you looked at him, the more royal he looked. No one in the village looked as healthy and well-fed as he, only you matched that particular description, although he didn’t seem to notice that. Maybe you had a real hound on your hands despite not knowing what to do with one. It was thankful that the Lord blessed you with patience, normally a man like this would make your stomach bubble, especially with so many snide remarks. Staring at him, you took in those pretty purple eyes, so big and wide, just like what you had dubbed him. He was so small, smaller still with that gash on his side, and you had never been one to kick a dog when it was down.

“I don’t,” You answered honestly. Confusion made him purse his lips. “Haven’t been around here for very long, just showed up ‘bout a week ago. Been a bit of a culture shock, in truth.”

“… Where… are you from?” The man started with a quick, almost bird-like of his head, more incredulous than genuine. There was no goodwill in the question, only a selfish sort of confusion that indicated that he cared very little for your personhood, merely from what could be gained. “Are those letters not from your brother?”

“I have no brothers or sisters,” You said with a shrug.

He looked even more befuddled as he rolled his head to take in the room. Slowly, as if you were the one who couldn’t understand, he asked, “This is… your house.”

“Nah, told you I got here a week ago. Ain’t my house, sir.” A laugh made you throw your head back as you reached to pat the pup on the head. Pulling back his lips, he jerked from your palm, eyeing the offending appendage with obvious dislike. All the honorific did was make him look positively befuddled.

“Prince,” He corrected with a quick wag of his wrist, pointing his finger at you. “I am a prince. Son of Viserys Targaryen. You speak to Aegon Targaryen.” He let out a chuckle, genuine this time. “A knight? Knight of his chambers, perhaps.”

His name was said in a way that seemed to indicate that this should explain everything to you. When all you did was blink, he blew air from his lips, looking about the room as if he was on one of those pranking programs. “Seven kingdoms an’ one prince? Doubt that. I’m sure you’re a dime a dozen.”

“Dime a do— What are you—? Am I still drunk?” Aegon let out a huff and slapped his palms on his thighs. As one would a child, he spoke slowly and precisely in a way that could only be taken as condescending. All you really thought was that he was sort of cute. “There are seven kingdoms, each held by a liege lord, and all bending the knee to one king, my father, Viserys Targaryen. How do you— How do you not know this, really?”

A thunderous wail on the door cut off your response and Aegon’s face fell from incredulity to terror. “I was kidnapped from King’s Landing while I was— Doesn’t matter.” He pointed at the front door, and without shame, he dropped to his knees to crawl under the bed. “Protect me and you will be rewarded. Handsomely.”

You looked down at him, eyes alight with mirth. “Said you weren’t no pup, but here you are on your hands and knees.” Anger flashed across his expression only to give way to a grimace when the fist pounded against the door again.

“Rewarded,” He reiterated. “Handsomely.”

“Stay here,” Unable to believe what you were about to say, you snorted. How European. “My prince.”

His puppydog eyes narrowed, but he said nothing else as you softly shut the door behind you. It was time to greet some fellow hunters. You grinned. This was sure to be fun.

The pounding on the door continued, even as you pulled it open to reveal your ever present grin. Outside were three men, each with a blade, and every one of them more rugged than the last. They stank of filth, hair stringy with grease and teeth so rotten you could almost see them crumble when the man knocking clenched them. With Addam’s sword, you plunged forward your arm to bury it in the knocking man’s gut, all before anyone had time to blink. He sputtered, blood and spit covering your bare hand as you angled the blade up with a twist. Quick, you pulled back to draw the blade from his belly and the sick plop of his entrails hitting the floor made your smile widen. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be by the time you would be done. The groans of the damned would be your choir as you made quick work of his friends.

The one in the back let out an exclamation preoccupied by his own ever looming mortality, “Seven hells!”

Meanwhile, his remaining friend was the kind to let adrenaline guide him rather than cause him to freeze. His knuckles crunched into your nasal ridge, your vision going black for a moment. Stumbling back a few paces, you could taste your own blood on your lips. It only invigorated you, even as the room spun.

“Fucking cunt!”

Another blow came, this time snapping your head to the side. The noise that left you was somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh that, for some reason, seemed to chill your assailant to the bone. Thinking better of it, he unsheathed his blade, fumbling for a moment to hold it steady. That was more than enough time to swing your own sword into the side of his skull. It didn’t sink in all the way, about five inches, a little less than halfway into his face. You let out another laugh and released the sword to focus on the one remaining man. He was younger than the others, frozen as you headed for him, wiping the blood from your bruised nose with your sleeve.

“No, no, please.” You were used to begging, and even if you weren’t, it’d never phased you before. “I have money, I have—!”

Uppercut to the ribs, bringing his head low enough for you to grab him by the hair on the back of his head. Though the world was still spinning and your vision still a bit fuzzy, you had enough spatial awareness to find the cobblestone wall of the cottage, right by the door. It was, after all, right in front of you. There was a crunch — his nose, not his skull, that didn’t cave so easily. You reared back, strings of blood and snot connecting him to the stone, then slammed him forward once more. Again and again and again until whatever was left of him was nothing but a stain beside the front door.

Gasping laughter made it hard to breathe. You let his limp body crumple and threw your hands into the air. “Woo!”

Drunk from the kill, you stumbled back into the house, nearly tripping on the still twitching man you had disemboweled, giggling all the way back to the bedroom. You stood in front of the closed door, debating on whether or not you should enter, before deciding to call through the wood. “Safe to come out, puppy! Took care’a all your problems, but I made a bit of a mess doin’ it. Stay in there or come on out, up to you. Don’t expect you to stay long if you do, though!”

It was quiet for a moment before his response came, “I think I will remain in here!”

“Suit yourself!” Another giddy little giggle left you, the world spinning in the opposite direction that you turned in. You teetered to the left, then to the right, the last thing you felt being your eyes rolling back into your head when the world went dark.

Two head injuries in such a short period of time. Not good, indeed.

You didn’t know how long you were out for when you felt a bit of pressure poking at your side. Slowly, through a blurry haze and a throbbing against your nasal ridge, you saw Aegon kicking at you, his expression entirely at a loss. He had been looking at you earlier, you were almost certain, but right now, he was staring at the mess in the living room. A gag made him double over, his hand over his mouth. Thankfully, nothing came up considering you were right in the splash zone.

“‘Llo, my puppy-prince,” You said, your accent thicker than usual. That got him to tear his gaze from the bodies and back to you. Relief was not in his expression, though he did seem pleased to not be left alone with four bodies.

“Why do you— stop calling me that.” Licking his lips, he glanced back into the front room, seemingly unable to remove his gaze. “Did you… do all of that? Three armed men?”

There was something left out and you couldn’t begin to fill in the blanks given how hard your face pounded. “Was fun, my prince. Was real fun. One got a lick in, but it felt good, so ‘m not mad ‘bout it.”

“Felt good?” Aegon turned back to you, his nose scrunched in judgement. “And here I thought that I was the whore-mongering pervert.”

You heaved yourself to your feet and gave Aegon a self-indulgent pat on the head. This time, he didn’t swat you away, but he still looked at you like you had lost your mind. “Gonna go bury ‘em in the garden. Feed the plants full.”

“No,” Aegon stressed. “You will return me to King’s Landing where, I must reiterate, you will be rewarded.” He pursed his lips and twitched his head. “Handsomely.”

Instead of responding, you passed him by to grab the disemboweled man by the ankles and begin dragging him through the house, toward the back door. Aegon retched again, but didn’t return to the bedroom, a look of rapt fascination on his face as the corpse left behind a trail of blood and entrails. He pattered after you into the garden. “Are you deaf or intentionally slow? Or are you simply pretending that you don’t hear me? I was kidnapped.”

“Is that what’s got you in such a hurry?” The spade hadn’t been put away from your last kill, simply sticking upright in the dirt, awaiting the next. You found an empty spot and began to dig a trench anew. Enough for three corpses.

“No, I am not safe in some smallfolk farm, I must return to King’s Landing where I won’t be—”

“Kidnapped?” You offered between slices of your spade into the soft earth. Aegon paused and you could feel his stare burn into the back of your head. It made you chuckle. “‘m not ready to leave here yet, my prince. I could, if you really wanted me to, but why do I get the feelin’ that you’d rather not go back just yet.”

There was a pause. “What gives you that impression?”

“I just think it’s odd is all. A prince kidnapped from the castle walls, or maybe you’ere out ‘n about. The question is why.” Pausing, you waited for a response, and when none came, you continued, “I’ll take care of you, like I would any limpin’ pup that showed up at my door. I’d already killed for you, I could do it again.”

Aegon took a few steps forward, eyes searching your face. “Why would I want to stay in some shit shack when I have a castle to live in?”

“You’d be missed?”

“What?”

That strangle in his voice made you laugh. Nail on the head, it seemed. This puppy was lonelier than you were. “Make ‘em wonder where you went. Worry their little ol’ hearts out. Mourn for their prince who might never return. Then, when you come trottin’ back, they’ll’ve really missed you.”

He swallowed audibly. “What makes you think that they’d miss me?”

“I’d miss you when you were gone, I reckon.” You stopped digging to face him, watching his fists clench and unclench at his sides. “I’d always be thinkin’ about the prince I killed for. You got a cute look about you, like one of them poor creatures you’d see at the pound. Like you’d been kicked a couple’a times.”

No one had ever wanted to keep you around after they found out what you found enjoyment in. Prince Aegon wanted to reward you. Whether he’d continue to once he got to know you was still up in the air. There was no denying that you’d be more than a little hurt if he turned his nose up at you after all of this nonsense, even if you wouldn’t particularly blame him. It would be nice, after all this time, to have a friend, and a cute one to boot. Easy on the eyes, this was the first time that you understood that particular saying.

Pulling you from your thoughts, he let out a scoff.

“Well, that’s a wonderful way to endear yourself to me. Insults,” Aegon said sarcastically. Yet, he didn’t leave. He stayed standing in your garden, staring at you, and occasionally at the corpse by your feet.

“Will you stay?”

A beat passed in silence. Aegon looked at you, then the shovel, the corpse, the cottage, then, at the horizon. He placed both hands against his face and scrubbed at his eyes with either an annoyed or a resigned sigh. “I cannot make the journey myself, not without a guard, and I have no coin to buy any sell-sword around. Not that there’d be men of much use near here.” Allowing his arms to flop by his sides, his jaw worked in sheer disbelief. “Save for you, I guess. Missed, it’ll be, then!”

“I’ll make supper after I finish cleanin’.” Aegon didn’t respond, fixated on his own frustration.

So quietly, you almost didn’t hear it over the scuff of dirt, he grumbled, “They’ll be glad to be rid of me. At least the whores will miss me, not mother, and certainly not father.”

After he spoke, you felt his eyes on you, checking to see if you heard him. You pretended that you didn’t. His stare seared a hole into the back of your head for nearly a minute when he let out another breath. “I’ll be helping myself to the wine if it’s not yours. Dig until your back breaks.”

With a twitch of his lips betraying the joke, he headed back inside. You turned back to your trench, knowing what would come next. The stench was always rough to people who weren’t used to it. Barely a second passed before he was retching into the grass. “It smells wretched in there!”

“That’d be the bile, my prince. Wouldn’t mind the company,” You offered.

Aegon plopped himself on a nearby stone bench with his elbow on his knee and his chin in his palm, pouting like a child. It endeared you far more than you’d like to admit. “It seems that I have no other choice. Enjoy me to your heart’s content.”

To be quite honest, you intended to. For the first time in your life, there was a presence of another rather than what was merely you and a corpse. To your surprise, it made the kill even sweeter.

You hoped Aegon would ask you to kill again. Maybe next time he could watch. Would he be disgusted, or would he be fascinated?

In truth, you knew which that you hoped for.

A/N: I’ve had this written for weeks now and I’m so excited to post this. Chapter three is also already written and I’ll post it probably on Tuesday, but after that, updates will probably be weekly-ish. My schedule tends to be I work weds-fri ans then I’m off sat-tues and I use those days to write! Occasionally, I will write at work, if I can get away with it.

I hope I wrote Aegon in character. Like… hope and fucking pray that I did. Writing a character for the first time is always the most stressful thing ever because you’re trying to find the Groove for the character and it’s like… does this work? Is this good? Am I capturing his ‘isms’ correctly? I sure hope I am. I’m having a lot of fun writing Y/N’s inner monologue too, they’re genuinely so very odd. Their contradictions make for a lot of fun. Someone who is emotionally intelligent, but also just… is a murderer, is super fun to write.

Idk, idk, just let me know what you think in the comments!!! It’d be much appreciated and mean the world to me! I love comments, yay!

Tag list: Ask to be added!

Divider by @/sister-lucifer

[gorbo-longstocking]

The Things Inside | Chapter Three

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

Summary: For three weeks, Aegon makes himself at home in your stolen cottage, either snooping or drinking. These are a few of the happenings during that time.

Tags: Alcoholism and alcohol consumption, vomiting, Criston Cole shows up and I feel that needs a warning

Word Count: 6k words

Read on AO3

Masterlist

“I have realized that I do not know your name.” Aegon poked at his dinner with his fork, choosing to study it rather than eat it. He pushed around a tomato, allowing it to roll in the bowl, decidedly not looking at you as he spoke, “If I am to be staying here for fuck knows how long, I may as well know it.”

It took you a moment to respond, your mouth full of your meal. You regretted to say that it wasn’t special, you had intended to really impress Aegon with dinner this time. Unfortunately, you came to find that neither Addam, nor his wife, had much of a love for spices. Perhaps they couldn’t afford them. There were some onions and herbs in the garden that you could dry and powder, but that would take some time. For now, what you were stuck with were plain braised tomatos. There was little you wouldn’t have given to grace your princely accomplice with a baked mac and cheese, scalloped potatoes, or some string bean casserole, all fatty and filling in a way you were sure a royal pup would like. Unfortunately for you, it was too soon for any of that, so you had to make do with a meal so drab that it was an effort not to wilt.

“You get along well enough callin’ me ‘you there,’ my prince.” The joke came easily once you swallowed your mouthful, eyes alight with laughter. Aegon’s pupils flickered from his meal, now mush from his prodding, and his lips twitched upward ever so slightly.

“And what would you have me do if another were to visit? He can be ‘you there.’ I need your name.” Punctuating his humor, he smashed the tomato with his fork. It seemed that he had no interest in eating, as had been the case for the last two days. It looked like nothing you made with your meager ingredients could satisfy his royal palate. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had caught him shoveling his leftovers down his gullet when he thought you hadn’t been looking, you’d have been worried that he’d starve. “Although, I cannot help but wish some vagrant chef would turn up at your door and we could actually have a fine meal for once.”

A snort puffed from your nose as you took another bite. You waited to swallow before you responded. Just to be polite. “If I had the right ingredients, I’d’ve made you a meal you’d never forget.”

Aegon didn’t look convinced if his eye roll was anything to go by. “Oh, I’m sure. Perhaps you’d boil your meat as you boil your vegetables, until it is a dull paste.”

“I can cook meat better’n any of your cooks, puppy. The meat’d fall right off the bones. Give you somethin’ to gnaw on.” He was growing used to the nickname, though he couldn’t keep his lips from pulling back into an annoyed grimace whenever it left you. It made you laugh. “Tell you what, my prince. Be good while I check my traps, and if we got enough meat, I’ll see if I can slow cook you somethin’ good.”

Leaning back, he looked at you finally, the features on his face both haughty and resigned, an expression that you hadn’t thought possible until Aegon. He gave a pointed tap of his fork against the table. It rang out through the room like gong. “Right, then. I’m sure you will. I look forward to eating squirrel meat. Again.”

“It is a damn shame I don’t have much at my disposal,” You admitted with a hum, unconsciously mirroring Aegon’s picking of his food. He watched you for a moment before turning to his wine, tilting it back to find it empty. It was evident he drank quite a bit, his tolerance was enough to impress you. While you had no love for having your inhibitions lowered, you did quite enjoy observing others with less to lose. Aegon held out his cup for a refill and you finally decided to give him your name.

As you filled his cup to the brim, he sniffed, his nose scrunching cutely despite his general judgement. “Odd name. Then again, I don’t much find myself in the company of smallfolk often.” He snorted and took a sip with a grimace big enough to show off his teeth. “Is this wine or piss?”

“I’m not a huge fan of wine.” You shrugged, sitting back down. Aegon’s look of supreme judgement over the rim of his cup did not go missed by you.

“Rum, then?”

Leaning your cheek against your palm, you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Another glass down and only a slight flush to his pale features. You wondered if he’d handle your brew just as well. “I distill my own special spirit. Pa taught me how when I was young. Prefer that over much else.”

With a barked laugh, Aegon raised his now empty glass in a show of cheers. “Now that is a way to bond with your son! Perhaps I shall steal your father’s idea.”

“Welcome to it.” A bit more subdued, you looked away. Your pa was a bit of a sore subject, and you would rather not dwell on such matters lightly, if at all. That man was long dead, the memory of such an act making your palms buzz. You closed your fists tightly before letting them fall open once more. On par for his character, Aegon didn’t notice your lowering mood, instead choosing to fixate on the cat laying belly up in a sun beam. Didn’t take much to spoil that one into laziness. You glanced at Aegon out of the corner of your eye.

“Where is your father?” Aegon turned his cup upside down over his mouth to fish out the last few drops of wine. He didn’t seem particularly invested in your answer.

“Dead,” You responded simply.

That made his pupils snap over to you. For a moment, you almost expected pity until his lips curled into a little smirk that you very nearly could mistake for playful. “Better dead than alive, I say. Fathers, what are they good for aside from providing the seed for the root?”

“I’ll drink to that.” Holding up your milk, you tapped your cup to his.

Aegon’s lip twitched again. “Usually one would cheers with wine in their cup, though mine is empty and yours is full of milk. I suppose it’s all the same in the end.”

You didn’t grace his joke with a spoken response, merely a smile and a small bow of your head. That was enough to please him, earning a much more sarcastic one in return, woven silver hair falling into his face. After that, he stood, plate uneaten — you were well aware that he’d scarf it down when you weren’t looking — and obviously bored. More often than not, Aegon complained that you were a terrible bore, though he seemed somewhat content to snoop around the cottage, which he was more than likely off to do now without so much as a farewell.

No matter. It wasn’t like anything here belonged to you anyhow. You’d teach your new dog some manners yet.

Over the days he spent in the cottage with you, Aegon had taken quite well to your cat— or as well as someone as spoiled as him would. At first, he seemed dead set in paying her no mind. He’d nudge her aside with his foot when she got in his way, roll his eyes when she let out her sweet call for attention, and glare at her when she’d taken up her perch on his pillow, usually when he wanted to take a nap. Mango was still your dear mouser, just a fat one rather than the lean ones in the Red Keep as Aegon had personally informed you. Apparently, he’d never seen a feline so friendly, nor one so insistent on getting their way. Even when he tossed her from wherever she found it in his heart to lay, Aegon was annoyed to find that she was more than happy to be a warm weight on his chest instead.

Or, sometimes, his face.

A muffled call of your name pulled you away from your cooking, in the middle of dipping your fresh meat into a bowl of egg, then coating it in seasoned bread crumbs. Your traps had bore fruit, finally, a few squirrels and rabbits caught in their web that you intended to cook for supper tonight. It would be the first meal that you’d serve to Aegon with pride. As for your own dinner, you were content with a salad that you would fix up while Aegon ate his.

The fillets of meat were pounded thin so they wouldn’t need to be cooked for long. You had even dried some of the more flavorful herbs in the garden, along with some onions, to make for seasoning. About time, if you said so yourself. Earlier, you had gone into town to pick up some bread, eggs, and oil, the latter already at a rolling boil over the fire.

Another, much more annoyed, cry made you wash your hands in a nearby basin and follow the sound of Aegon’s voice to where he waited. As was usual, he was in the bedroom — his now, you took up space on the floor of the living room after fashioning your own mattress out of cloth and hay — naked as the day he was born with only the blankets to cover his modesty. On his face, was Mango, the whole of her body enough to cover him. His hands were on either side of her, fingers splayed, betraying his nerves. Everytime he shifted, she began to growl, the sound echoing through the room.

“Did’ja enjoy your nap?” You asked, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice. It made your accent thicken.

Aegon’s scoff was barely audible through the thick layer of fat and fur, “How could I with this horrible beast trying to suffocate me?”

“She likes you.” Rather than obey, you leaned your shoulder against the wall to watch Aegon squirm. His movements made the blanket expose more of his bare chest, his fuzzy thigh hanging off of the bed as he fought for purchase, and you took in the pale shade with appreciation. Even the small smattering of hair on his chest was silver. How cute.

Aegon moved a little too much and Mango’s annoyed growl grew more insistent. Instantly, he froze, feeling her claws prick his skin. “She is going to attack me! Get her the fuck off!”

“She’s just lettin’ you know she don’t want to move, puppy.” Letting out a hum, you let your eyes linger a little longer than necessary. “Do you really need me to rescue you?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed.

Despite your enjoyment of the scene, you pushed off of the wall and, without breaking a sweat, you plucked Mango off of his face. Dramatically, Aegon inhaled a deep breath and sat up, revealing his nipples to you. Now that he could see, you took care not to look, even if they were the cutest shade of pink you ever did see. He glared at Mango, who purred in your arms, limp and loving as a ragdoll. “Now she purrs. I thought that horrible beast would take my face off.”

You watched as he rubbed the little red marks that Mango had left behind on his face. Carefully, you picked up one of her little paws and waved it at Aegon, pitching your voice higher. “But I love you, my prince!”

“Which is worse, hearing that from another man, or from a cat?” Aegon stood without a care and began rifling for his blood-stained clothes. No matter how often you tried to offer him some of Addam’s extra attire, he had turned his nose up to them. Apparently, he would rather be dirty than poor.

“What about from a whore?” The joke came easily, and it was enough to make Aegon throw his head back with a laugh. He was struggling into his clothes, the fact he very rarely dressed himself, if at all, more evident than much else about him. If you still had any doubts about him being a prince, they were long gone by now.

Aegon grinned, showing off all of his teeth. They were sharper than you’d ever seen on the average man. It intrigued you more than it didn’t. “Oh, I’ve heard that from many a whore before, and I assure you, it is a flattery of the highest honor.”

“Until she suggests you elope,” You played along, far more interested in his laughter than his bare ass now that it was hidden behind his trousers.

That made him frown, though his eyes were still bright. “Don’t remind me. As much as running away appeals to me, roughing it with some whore sounds like cosmic punishment rather than fun.”

“Worse’n some man?” The question was more earnest than you had intended. Unable to help it, you tilted your head, mirroring your puppy’s own expression. “Supper’ll be ready when you’re dressed.”

Aegon fumbled with his buttons, deigning to only do every other one than all of them. “I doubt a woman would be able to kill those men as you did. As much as I miss a good fuck, I will admit that having my life is much preferable.”

A satisfied smile made your lips quirk. “You’re welcome, puppy.”

“You get no thanks,” Aegon snorted, annoyed despite his joking tone. “Your refusal to return me to King’s Landing would make it easy for me to name you my kidnapper. My reluctance to do so, despite the incessant boredom and poor accommodations, should be enough for you.” Once your nickname for him registered, he frowned even more heavily. “If you would stop calling me that—”

You cut him off without looking at him, instead returning to the kitchen to dip the batter soaked fillets into the oil. In your left hand was a pair of tongs that you would use to pluck them out. “Then stop lookin’ so much like a puppy, my prince. I can’t help it.”

Whatever Aegon grumbled under his breath was lost over the sizzle of the oil. You’d much rather pay attention to him than his meal, his insistence to pout too adorable for you to take serious. Unfortunately, your interest in impressing him with dinner took precedence.

Which you did, to his, and your own, surprise. For the first time since he arrived, he finished his plate, even asked for seconds.

Victory made your salad taste sweet.

As you waited for your moonshine to ferment, Aegon was no stranger to Addam’s wine. He went through it like it was what kept him alive and you had started watering it down so that he didn’t die of dehydration. After emptying his chamberpot one morning, you were struck with how sour his piss was, proving more than ever that he needed to take better care of himself. If you weren’t so deadset on blowing his mind with your moonshine, you’d never offer him any. For his own sake. Especially after he drank through Addam’s stores of brew and you had to go into town for more, this batch tasting worse than the last, as Aegon so kindly reminded you.

Now, though, after much time and effort — and Aegon hovering over your shoulder as you distilled it — your moonshine was done. You poured it into jars, most set aside for sale in the village, though it was not an insignificant portion that you saved for Aegon.

He examined the jar full of clear fluid, holding it up to the sunlight as he searched for any impurities. Crouched down, you hovered behind him, doing the same, no small amount of pride in your work. Aegon gave it a sniff, grinning as his nose scrunched. “This smells vile! It’s perfect!”

With his free hand, he clapped you on the back. You barely had time to blink before Aegon tilted his head and opened his throat, guzzling the alcohol with a speed that you were unprepared for. Instead of stopping him, you walked around to his front, watching curiously for his reaction. When the jar was empty, he pulled it away with a sharp retch, a bit of drool on his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand as you took the empty jar from him and set it aside.

“How is it?”

Aegon burped. Loudly. You felt yourself get a little giddy when you saw him shift a bit in place, a rosy flush flooding his features. He took a breath and beamed, a wide and unfathomably bright grin that nearly swallowed his face whole. This was the drunkest you had ever seen him. With a contagious enthusiasm, he gave you a firm poke against you sternum. “You, my good man, are never, ever leaving my s— side.” A hiccup cut him off, another burp making his cheeks puff out. “You are to make me this spirit, whenever I so please, and in return, I will make sure you live in absolute luxury. That’s— That’s what I think.”

You blinked. For someone who had spent his whole life alone, this offer should make you blanch. When you had first trapped Aegon in this cottage with you, you had almost expected yourself to grow bored of him. You couldn’t kill a prince, you knew that it would draw far too much attention. One day, someone would come looking for their long, lost princely pup and they’d only find you, soaked in blood and smiling. That outcome was not preferable. What was more than likely to happen was that Aegon would leave, and you would remain here— until you didn’t.

Two weeks had passed since Aegon arrived and you couldn’t imagine being alone again. Or, at the very least, without him making comments whenever you caught his eye. You had grown quite fond of him, an emotion that was once saved solely for your animal companions, or the old ladies back home who you played bingo with on the occasion. Not once had you ever felt so… fond of another presence. Maybe because it wasn’t often you were in one, or maybe you just liked looking at Aegon with his pretty face and his pale skin. The thought of never seeing Aegon’s puppy-eyes again stuffed your head full of cotton. You watched him sway in place, physically unable to stay still, let alone walk in a straight line.

Against your better judgment, you swept Aegon off of his feet, one arm under his knees, the other against his back. “Don’t want’cha bustin’ open that skull of yours, pup.”

“Is this how tall you are?” He swallowed a hiccup, his eyes bleary as he took in his surroundings. Kicking his legs a little to get higher, you allowed him to squirm until he was settled more comfortably in your arms. “Gods man, you’re a giant. I’m trying to think of where to have you carry me. What I wouldn’t give for a brothel right now.” A laugh bubbled from his throat, along with the smell of hard liquor. “Wouldn’t that be a sight? Their whore f— fucking prince carried in the arms of a giant!”

You hefted him in your arms so that you had a better grip on him, and without warning, you took off in a random direction. Aegon barked out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gag. “Fuck off, you’re gonna make me puke!”

As if on cue, and only a few meters away from the cottage, he pushed off of your chest and fell onto his hands and knees. On instinct, you pulled back his hair as he retched, only a bit of bile escaping from him.

“Sorry, puppy.”

Aegon laughed again despite the anger in his tone. “You should be. Jostled my fucking stomach. Ha! I’m too drunk to even be mad, what did you give me?”

“Figured you’d be flyin’ off the handle. Color me surprised,” You admitted.

Again, he snorted as you helped him to unsteady feet. “I don’t understand half of what you say. Fucking riddles.”

“Means get to real pissed off.” Like before, you picked Aegon up bridal style, though this time, you kept your gait steady. He huffed, his eyes burning into you despite their glassiness. Next time, you should endeavor not to make your moonshine so strong if it got such an experienced alcoholic laying his head on your shoulder. Puking likely would start to sober him up, so you intended to enjoy his drunken adorability before he got too aware. “Sometimes I wonder why you’re not madder’n you are with me. I know you’re not trapped here, but I’m not so stupid to think you can leave on your own without someone protectin’ you.”

Aegon let out a hum. Out of everything that he could have said, you didn’t expect what left him. “You were right. I do want to be missed. It’d be nice to be celebrated upon returning home, not with another lecture.”

“I know I said I’d miss you before,” You said softly, all while he refused to look at you. Rather, his gaze was fixed into the far off distance, his jaw working like he was chewing at the inside of his cheek. “But I think I really mean it now.”

“You still must be rewarded,” He said. “So you’ll come to King’s Landing with me. After trying whatever it was you brewed, no wine will ever be the same again.” There was a beat, broken only by a little sigh from Aegon. “You have known me for no more than a fortnight, and yet you insist upon your fondness. Give it time. You’ll grow weary of me soon.” He patted against your breast with the flat of his palm. “Now get me to bed. I need to sleep off whatever poisons you have besieged me with.”

“Maybe I will grow weary.” There was no need to lie, the possibility that he would turn out to be right was there. Aegon’s novelty might wear off and you’d be more interested in your solitude than you were in spending time with him. Already, that familiar itch to kill was eking through your veins. What kept you from indulging was his reaction— and, on a more logical level, being imprisoned for your crimes. A prince was not a witness that you would want to risk. You glanced down at the top of his head, soft waves spilling down to his chin. Unable to truly stop yourself, nor really wanting to, you shifted him in your arms to pat him on the head. Aegon tensed in a way that could be mistaken for a flinch. “Maybe I won’t. Does the future ‘what if’ really matter if I consider you a friend now?”

When you entered the cottage, you maneuvered through the house in order to lay Aegon down on the bed. He was far less flushed now, though there was still a slight pink to his cheeks. With fumbling fingers, he began to undress, muttering something about being too hot, something you paid no mind. To grant him privacy, you turned your back. He snorted at you, finally, as he fumbled with his buttons.

“A friend? Do you truly believe that you have any right to consider a Targaryen prince as a friend when you are so common yourself?” When you neither responded, or turned around, Aegon tossed his shirt at your head. It was hard to keep your shoulders from shaking as the fabric draped over your vision. “Friends are something I sometimes find myself lacking in, and I drink with enough smallfolk to not think myself much better than the average drunkard. Having a friend who can take on three armed men alone and brew me a liquor stronger than whatever swill gets imported from Essos would serve me well.”

“You mean it?”

Removing his shirt from your head, you turned back around once you heard the rustle of his bedsheets. You began to fold his clothes for him as he cracked open an eye and regard you with a dry look. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I let you call me ‘puppy’ of all things.”

“I thought that was because you were scared of me.” You were unable to hide your smile, squirming its way onto your face.

Aegon grimaced. “I’m rather certain you could crush my fucking skull like it was an olive.”

“I could.”

He frowned now as he draped an arm over his face to block the sun from his vision. “… You could have at least lied.”

“Why would I ever lie to you, puppy?”

Though Aegon didn’t respond, you still caught sight of a genuine smile as he flopped back onto the bed. Time for another nap, you supposed. He always did like to sleep after he had too much to drink, only to wake back up and have some more. It would do you well to limit his intake.

Maybe you should introduce him to shots. That would be far easier to stymie than his cups— or get him even drunker than he was already.

Over the course of the past three weeks, you had checked both your own wound, and Aegon’s, taking care of each with as much gentleness as you could muster. You quickly came to discover that Aegon was a big, whimpery baby when it came to even mild discomfort, something you ate up with vigor. Whenever you so much as brushed against one of his bruises, or applied poultices to the gash on his side, he’d flinch away, often times whining like a beaten dog. Eventually, you realized that it was easier to clean both injuries at the same time, your own stalwart reaction to pain one Aegon would try to mimic in an effort to appear strong.

A shame, if you were being honest. You liked those sweet little noises that he made whenever you pressed too hard. Sometimes, it made you want to dig your fingers deeper into his side just to see him cry. You kept that urge tucked away, deep inside, no matter how badly you wanted to hurt him. You also wanted him to stick around, in the end, and that meant no wanton violence at anyone’s expense— most importantly his. Aegon didn’t seem the type to take to being brutalized kindly. In truth, you wanted him to like it too. To gasp and groan while you took him apart. All of these thoughts and feelings welled up inside you, confusing enough to make your head spin. Many a night was spent awake, wondering what kept you from giving into the urges that you’d never quite denied until now.

Was it because he was a prince? Was it because he’d be missed? You stared down at his bare torso, uncaring of how distant your eyes were. It wasn’t until Aegon’s snapping fingers were in your field of vision did you realize how horribly you had zoned out.

“Huh?”

Pointedly, he gestured to himself with a sweeping gesture of his hands. “My injuries won’t heal on their own.”

“Right.” There was little preamble as you took off your trousers, leaving you only in your underwear and shirt. Aegon matched with you now, finally accepting the generosity of wearing lowborn clothes, if only because he had puked on himself several days prior, making his previous attire unwearable. He stared at the stitches on your thigh, then looked down at his own shallow cut just under his ribcage.

“How did you get yours?” The more he stared, the more that his nose scrunched up.

You shrugged as you applied a balm and then rewrapped the wound. It took no time at all, each motion practiced and precise after years of patching yourself up. “Huntin’ accident.”

Aegon hummed, uncomvinced if the trace of his eyes was anything to go by. “You are certain no leeches are required?”

“Where I’m from, that’s considered barbaric,” You said, your tone distant in your inspection. His cut had scabbed over now, so you doubted there was much of a point in wrapping it back up unless he started to pick.

With a snort, that dissolved into a hiss when you began poking at his bruises, he said, “I’m inclined to agree. I hate those fucking things.”

In spite of the scab, you still applied your chewed poultice. As was usual, Aegon let out a disgusted noise when he felt your warm saliva against his skin, though, to his credit, he managed to stay still. Mostly.

“Sure they’re fond’a you. You’re their meal ticket.” He didn’t respond to that, too busy watching you work with his lip curled. You reached up to smooth out his features, more playful than earnest, which was the only reason why you giggled when he smacked you away. “My prince, you looked like you had shit on your upper lip. Sorry for fixin’ to wipe you clean.”

With your wrist held firmly in his grasp, he pulled your hand down so that it was settled against his side rather than his face. You noticed that there was dirt underneath of his nails. “At least the way you speak is amusing.” A bit more genuine, he looked down at you, taking note of how close you were to his body with raised eyebrows. “Does everyone speak in riddle and rhyme where you’re from?”

“Mostly. Sometimes I play it up ‘cause you think it’s funny.” Satisfied with your work, you leaned back on your heels and pressed your palms together, steepling your fingers. “You’ll be healed in no time!”

“So we return to King’s Landing then?” Aegon had far too much hope on his features for you to deny him anymore. In the end, you couldn’t stay here. Eventually, the villagers would find out that Addam and his wife were dead and that you had taken up living in their house. Once that happened, nothing good would come of it. Living in a city wasn’t ideal either, there were far too many eyes, though the bystander effect would lend well to your hobbies. Maybe there were some slums that you could frequent, full’a people who wouldn’t be missed. Maybe, if you were very lucky — and you pondered this while staring intently at Aegon, who was looking around the room awkwardly — he would give you a job as some sort of royal inquisitor. You had certainly proven your loyalty more than enough.

“Y’all got any job openings in the dungeons?”

Aegon’s eyebrows furrowed. “Do you mean as a guard or as a confessor?”

The latter sounded about what you wanted. “Confessor.”

“… I’m sure there are more interesting jobs that I can offer you.” As he spoke, he cast a glance toward the garden and scratched his jaw.

You shook your head and followed his gaze out of the window. To your ever growing interest, it seemed as though your garden had been dug up, particularly the part where Addam and his wife had been buried. A hint of trepidation grew in your chest as you leveled Aegon with an easy smile. “You been diggin’ holes in my garden, puppy?”

Aegon swallowed hard enough for his throat to bob. “No.”

What a bad liar.

“Did’ja find something that—” Before you could finish that thought, there was a knock at the door. It looked like someone had come to pay y’all a visit. Maybe it was a villager, looking for Addam and his wife, or maybe it was another one of Aegon’s assailants in search of their lost meal ticket. Either way, you were excited enough to beam. Your blood began to sing as you straightened out to your full height. Without bothering with your pants, you ignored Aegon, who had followed you enough to peer out of the bedroom, his bare torso pressed against the doorframe, and made for the knob. Slowly, you let the door fall open to see who had come to greet you.

It was a knight, his cloak behind him a pure shade of alabaster that you couldn’t help but compare to Aegon’s silvery blond strands that fell from his scalp. The knight’s own hair was cropped short, a pretty shade of black to match his eyes, set hard on you before they flickered back to lay on Aegon. Though the knight seemed relieved, there was something else in his gaze that made you curious. His pupils flickered back to you, then to your bare legs, and then to the shirtless prince behind you.

“No, no, do not look at me like that, Cole.” Wagging his finger, Aegon made quick work of the distance between him and the entrance to the cottage.

Cole had an air of annoyance to him despite being smart enough to hide it. A skill well honed considering that Aegon hardly noticed. It was either that, or perhaps Aegon was a bit of an idiot. “Like what, my prince?”

“He was looking over my wounds, is all, so don’t get any sordid ideas in your head to tell to my mother.” Aegon regarded you out of the corner of his eye for only a minute before he spit, “Besides, I would be doing the fucking in this situation, if I ever dared to lay with a man.”

All of the tension left your body with a laugh. “Yeah, was just lookin’ over things is all, sir.”

At your accent, Cole’s gaze returned to you, searching, if a little bit rude. “Where are you from, man?”

“Who cares?” Aegon interrupted before you could respond, his hand flat against Cole’s back to push him inside. “What you should really care about is this man’s moonedshine. Now that’s an alcohol that can put even Northern spirits to shame!”

Cole was quiet for a moment, taking in his surroundings with raised eyebrows. Aegon didn’t notice it, but Cole was growing rather irritated the more he stared, his hands balling into fists at his side. “My prince?”

“Yes?” Aegon turned with a confused blink.

“Did you spend these past three weeks that had, her grace, the queen, worried mad, drinking with some foreigner in the middle of the Crownlands?”

You watched as Aegon’s eyebrows furrowed defensively. “No! I got kidnapped, this man saved me and then refused to allow me to return to King’s Landing until he was prepared. I have wanted to return home for weeks!”

“Way to throw me under the bus,” You said with an amused smile.

Aegon held up his palm to signal you to be quiet. “Ignore his limericks, Cole. I was kidnapped and stuck with my savior. So I indulged while I was here, no one would fault me for that!”

A muscle in Cole’s jaw jumped from how hard he was clenching his jaw. “Of course, my prince.”

Pleased with that, and seemingly unaware that Cole was still rather irate, Aegon nodded. “So, when we will be leaving?” He turned to you. “Once you have packed, I assume?”

“Surely, you don’t intend to bring him with you, my prince,” Cole couldn’t help but blurt.

Aegon turned slowly on his heel, bordering on incredulous. “… Of course I am, he is to be rewarded for saving my life.” Again, he motioned with a roll of his wrists, impatient in a way that you had grown used to. Cole, on the other hand, seemed about ready to explode. “Can everyone get on with it, I’d rather not be trapped in this hovel for any longer than I need.”

You cast one last glance at the garden, and then at the dirt under Aegon’s nails. If you were to head out back, you were certain that Addam and his wife would be half uncovered, maybe an arm, or a leg, or even a skull covered in half rotted meat. Before Cole could get any ideas, you made for the garden to kick the dirt back over them. As you had expected you were right. Through the window, you met Aegon’s eyes and he quickly looked away.

You grinned. It was time to make for King’s Landing, you supposed.

A/N: Okay, this is the last chapter I have pre-written! After this, updates will slow significantly as we wait for me to work on it :3 I’m very excited for the dynamic between Aegon and Y/N to grow and evolve, along with the general character consensus of Y/N to not be: “What is wrong with that guy. Eugh.” Which I find mildly amusing, but it can’t remain like that forever.

Until next time, my dear friends. That’s all I have to say this time around. Thank you so much for reading <33

Divider by @/sister-lucifer

[gorbo-longstocking]

The Things Inside | Chapter Four

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

Summary: Aegon seems to have realized that your murder of his assailants were not a one time thing, but a pattern of behavior. He takes it better than you would have thought.

Tags: References to child abuse and to the intentional drowning of a child (past), animal bones, maggots, Aegon is an enabler, jealousy, obsession, and honestly, Y/N is a serial killer with a skewed view of the world, I don’t know how to tag for all of that

Word Count: 6.7k words

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Ser Cristin Cole, as he was called, was not alone in his search for the prince. Behind him was a whole retinue milling about in the yard. They seemed to be a mix of unsure and annoyed, a few their glances scorching upon the unwitting Aegon. Looked like they thought this was his fault. The prince in question seemed to be at a loss too, and purposefully avoiding you. For good measure you added to the amount of pupils gathered upon his crown, smiling, though no less intense. Even from the doorway, you could see the fine hair on the back of his neck stand on end, followed by a short shiver that he tried to stifle. Aegon tried to look at you out of the edge of his vision. When he noticed you watching, he tried to play nonchalant. The rock at his foot gave a clatter as he toyed with it.

You stared at him, then at the dirt under his nails. It was easy to not be angry at him. After all, puppies had a penchant for digging holes.

The next time he looked at you, it was wary, yet purposeful. Studying the best he could through the shot of moonshine that you had fed him earlier. He took in your disheveled appearance, the filth stuck to your hands and clothes, followed by a return of your grin, albeit much more awkward. Narrowing your eyes, you stared at the bob of his throat, a slight flicker of fear in his expression, before he hurried to turn away again. There was no revulsion there. You swallowed the saliva that had been building in your mouth. It was both a relief and mildly upsetting. If he did not mind your activities, why was he suddenly so afraid of you? Certainly you had made it glaringly obvious that you had no intention of hurting him.

Well, in any lasting way.

Aegon Targaryen was already aware that you killed without a second thought. That was a fact that he had witnessed personally upon turning up at your door, stalked and shivering. An image of a sweet creature left in a cardboard box during a terrible storm popped in your mind. It made you want to squeeze him until he popped. Sure, maybe he didn’t know the ease at which you had killed the previous owners of the cottage. You couldn’t imagine how that was any different! They deserved to die as much as his captors.

From what you could gather, Aegon seemed to believe that you shared the cottage with another— perhaps your parents? Killing kin may not be looked well upon here. Still, he did not go tongue wagging your crimes to his guards. A smile made your lips twitch. What a good dog. Maybe you were not as feared as you previously believed. It would be good to try not and scare your puppy more than he already was.

Continuing your stare, Aegon’s eyes pulled in your direction in a nervous glance. You grinned wide enough to show off your teeth and gave him a wave to show him that you weren’t angry. All he wound up seeing was a bigger man with a bigger frame and an even bigger appetite. Aegon shot his gaze away and scratched at the stubble on his chin. You could practically smell his fear, so intoxicating and sweet on the breeze. While you had no intention of hurting him, let alone killing him, you couldn’t help but admire how adorable it was when he was afraid. Even more so when it was of you.

In the back of your mind, the image of Aegon cowering flashed. His arms were covering his face. Maybe he’d even cry, shaking and helpless. Entirely at your mercy. It took everything in your power not to stride over and push him off of the rock he was sitting on.

Instead, you turned around to go inside and pack. There would always be other opportunities to play with your puppy-prince later. For now, you had to prepare for the journey to some castle or palace. Or wherever princes lived, you had never met royalty before. Not many came to the mountains. Aegon was taking you home with him, which you found to be sweet after everything that he had dug up. How nice it’d be to meet his family, probably just as wide-eyed and pale-haired as he was. You’d be surrounded on all sides by pretty little royals, with, of course, your favorite never too far away. You wondered if Aegon would still keep you by his side like he promised. A downward twitch of your lips turned your smile into a frown. That was not the outcome that you wanted, for as cute as you thought his tail between his legs was, you were rather fond of his bite as well.

A hum left you as your face twitched. On the journey to his home, you would have to fix up all of what had occurred. Explain why Addam and his wife had to go. Aegon would understand, he had a vindictive streak, you’d seen it. Addam and his wife were rude, and not in the endearing way that he was, Aegon more of a yipping terrier than a snarling hound.

Decision made, you flexed your fingers and your smile returned. Yeah, that would make everything go back to how it was before. It had to. You’d have to go slow, be methodical, try not to give into temptation and frighten your puppy anymore than you already had. It’d be easier said than done. Again, you could practically hear Aegon’s whimpers dancing against your eardrums, so hard to deny.

With that in mind, you cast one last glance at him, and began to pack. It wouldn’t take long at all, there wasn’t much that you sought to bring with you in the end. Most of it was not yours.

Save for Mango, of course.

A fact that Cole was not entirely pleased about. “We have more than enough mousers in the Keep. The cat remains here.”

All you did was chuckle and put your hand on the shoulder of his chestplate. His gaze flickered to the offending appendage, clearly more irritated than when he began. Behind him, Aegon grimaced and looked away. “Nah. Mango’s comin’.”

Cole gave you an incredulous look, his lips parted in sheer disbelief. He drew a little taller, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you. His hand twitched to grab the hilt of his blade, but he stood firm. “You don’t get a say in this, man.”

“Yeah, I do. She’s my cat, not yours, and she’s comin’ with me.” More amused than annoyed, you raised your eyebrows, bordering on playful. “You can’t stop me, so you may’s well accept it.”

Impertinence was likely not what Cole expected. You figured most cowed to him and whatever status his white cloak brought. Lowering his voice, he took a step closer to you so that no one — specifically Aegon — could not hear. “I don’t want you coming, let alone your cat. Be more careful, or perhaps the story of how the prince came to be in your care will become skewed.”

A laugh made your breath puff over his face. Maybe you should be worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. In the end, you figured that a prince would be better believed than a knight. “Okay. Lemme pack up Mango’s toys and I’ll be all ready. Ah!” This time, you snorted and gave Cole a pat on the back on your way back inside. “And my moonshine too. I’ll be sellin’ it on the way.”

“No you won’t—!”

By that point, you decided that the knight was no longer worth your time and returned inside to fetch Mango’s basket. Considering the time period, you doubted you’d be able to find a carrier for her. Thankfully her temperament was easy enough that some cloth folded nicely in a basket would be enough to keep her stationary. She always did love a good nap.

Ser Criston Cole could use one too if the furious stare that burned into the back of your head was anything to go by.

Next on your list to pack was your handsaw and the rudimentary tools that you had begun to reverse engineer over the weeks that you’d spent in this cottage. None were quite ready for use, though you would like to bring them and your schematics all the same. Especially if you got that job as a confessor. No one’d seen a nail gun before, they wouldn’t be able to comprehend how fast you could shoot iron into their body, let alone how bad it would hurt to peel it out.

At the very least, you would hide your tools at the bottom of the satchel holding your clothes. That way no one got suspicious until you cemented your safety with Aegon again. Mango settled down in her basket and you brought along your dairy cow to sell in the village as you passed it by. Followed by helping replenish the retinue’s food stores from your garden. No one was quite pleased about you joining them, none except Aegon, even if he still couldn’t look at you.

Not even when you sold that sweet little heifer and gave Cole the funds to cover the costs of your lodgings. A peace offering that did not accomplish what you had wanted.

“The people in the village told me some very interesting information,” Cole began about an hour into the journey. Both he and Aegon were riding horses. You, on the other hand, were content to walk, Mango’s basket in the crook of your arm.

The whole way, you kept pace with Aegon more than anyone else. To your surprise, he allowed it, albeit with a bit of sweat on his brow. Cole’s intervention came as a surprise to you both, causing you to hum, uncaring for whatever gossip he was privy to. “Did’ja now?”

“A couple lived in that cottage that you had the prince holed up in. A man and his wife.”

“Aw. Are you sayin’ I’m pretty like a woman?”

Cole’s face pinched, his disgust swallowed but noticeable to anyone with eyes. Rather than intervene, Aegon’s horse cantered a few paces ahead. Leaving you to suffer. Your lips twitched upward at his audacity, too caught up in your fondness to register Cole’s inane drone. “No, man, I’m saying that cottage is not yours.”

“It was given to him,” Aegon cut in. His lips were pursed as if the lie wasn’t particularly difficult, but he had trouble following it up with more information quickly. Before you could use his lifeline as a jumping off point, he continued, “I found… the deed. From one owner to the next.”

“Snoopin’s rude, y’know?” You teased, unable to stop yourself.

Aegon studied your playful expression for a little too long, eyes flickering over your face. There was not much there that he seemed able to read, so he turned his attention to the bristling Cole.

“Did they now,” The knight ground out from between clenched teeth.

Foiled again.

You shared a look with Aegon before you confirmed his shaky fib. “Yessir, they did.”

All Cole did was grunt in response, deciding that you weren’t worth a response. Funny because you didn’t think he was worth much ‘sides from the dirt on your shoe. You watched him trot ahead with a smile on your face, one that you shared with Aegon for the barest of moments before his fell into an awkward grimace. That made you frown, but no matter.

At least that got Cole to drop the topic for the rest of the trip.

The first day of travel, you gave Aegon time to stew with his thoughts. That was what normal people did, they gave their cutest little comrades time to parse their inner workings during difficult times. Friendship was foreign to you, not really a past time that you indulged in. There was your bingo group that you went to every month, and there was Wickham from your youth. None of that could compare to the fire Aegon lit inside of you. Not that Wickham hadn’t been important, but you were young and… impulsive. Pa’d found his body near the creek, staring down at you as you looked more like you’d stolen from the cookie jar rather than drowned the neighbor’s boy.

The beatings didn’t start then. They just got worse and left you bloodier.

So, that was what you made room for. The prince needed to digest that your protection of him was not a one off happenstance. It was as close to unconditional as you could get. Killing was an activity that you took part in, stray at your door or not, and one that you’d been enjoying since you were old enough to play alone in the woods. You assumed that would be a hard pill to swallow, even if the matters of regular folks were confusing to you more often than not. Most of the time, you could calculate how someone would react to stimuli, a whole lifetime of watching and waiting to back you up. In this new world, you did not understand the societal implications or taboos as you did with the one in which you were born.

Until you learned, you’d be fumbling blind.

That night, tents were pitched. Somewhat. There wasn’t room for everyone in the retinue to sleep with cloth over their head, and Aegon had slipped inside of the first as soon as it was set up. You didn’t consider it to be rude, though it seemed others found themselves mildly annoyed. A few huffs cut through the air, scoffed insults hardly swallowed, not even when Cole cleared his throat. As for you, there was a sweet enjoyment building in your gut when you imagined Aegon pampered. A fluffed pillow behind his head, satin sheets and cashmere blankets, all for him to curl up in. Naked as the day he was born. It was hard to keep your thoughts from drifting to the sounds he had made when you prodded at his bruises.

It was a shame that you had little to offer him personally. You would have liked to spoil him more than he already was.

None of the knights who surrounded you were as cute as Aegon. They could get rained on for all you cared. Maybe one would even fall sick with a fever, leaving you with the opportunity to watch him wither and die. Slow enough to satiate your appetite. With that thought in mind and a smile on your face, you placed your arm behind your head and gazed upward at unfamiliar stars. Pretty little pinpricks against a tapestry of velvet patterned into constellations that you could not recognize.

Until you fell asleep, you counted how many times you saw Aegon in them.

When you woke again, it was well into the night. Even the watch was asleep, snoring and open mouthed with drool seeping down his chin. Disgusting creatures, the human was an apex predator and perfectly designed to be so. No one really took advantage of the way that nature designed them. It was a real shame. Honestly, it’d be much more interesting if they did. Much easier to respect, much more fun to punish.

Despite your size, you kept your footsteps quiet, along with your noise of delight as you stretched your weary limbs over your head. You never really slept longer than four hours at a time. Something about how you were wired, which was already quite different than most. That left you with — you looked at the moon — four hours until dawn. Four hours that you intended to use in their entirety.

Aegon’s tent was not far from where you slept. Pulling open the flap, you were greeted with him splayed in his makeshift bed, one leg kicked from out of the covers and his head on the mat under the pillow rather than on it. That was Mango’s perch. She cracked open an eye to regard you before snuggling deeper into her nest. With your head cocked to the side, you sat on the ground near where Aegon slept and stared.

Stared, and stared, and stared.

Despite Aegon’s anxiety when he was aware, when he slept, he seemed to be entirely at peace. Soft snores emanated from behind pink lips, his face twitching as he dreamed. His nose wrinkled. You wondered what he was thinking about. It’d be nice to be able to get into his head, walk between folds of gray matter and bury your fingers into his inane little thoughts. Let them slip from between your fingers like eels. The air was cold enough for his skin to pimple into gooseflesh. Your hand itched to run along it, read him like braille. Wouldn’t it be funny if it said something interesting?

Wouldn’t it be nice if it said ‘I’m yours’?

About thirty minutes before the sun was meant to rise, allowing for dawn to bathe the camp in a golden glow, you pinched Aegon’s nose shut. His snoring became louder, eyebrows knitting as he sleepily slapped at your wrist.

“Mornin’, puppy.”

That was all it took for his eyes to snap open. Purple irises met yours, fear making them shimmer in a way that made you lick your lips. It wasn’t time for that. There was a discussion that needed to be had.

Aegon said your name in a nasally question. He glanced at the entrance of the tent, likely wondering if anyone would come if he screamed. “What, uh— What are you doing in my tent?”

“We needed to talk.” Releasing his nostrils, you sat back on your haunches and waited for him to rise enough to get comfortable. He was naked. You tried not to stare. To his credit, he seemed less frightened than you had expected, though you could see him contemplating letting out a cry for help.

He studied your open palms for a weapon. “That is certainly not threatening.”

“You saw the people I killed.” Simple. Easy. Followed up by a short explanation because that was all that they deserved. “Was for the best. They were rude.”

Aegon looked away as he picked at his blanket. “I watched you bury them, I can’t say it was much of a surprise.”

“You found more bodies’n that.”

“Did I?” Aegon scratched his head and curled his lip. The motion was exaggerated in its fakeness. “I can’t recall.”

“Do people think you’re stupider than you are? I don’t.” You crawled into his line of sight so that you could bore your eyes into his. The purple was hypnotizing, you never wanted to look away. “I like killin’ people,” You admitted more easily than you doubted he’d ever heard. Slowly, you inched closer to him until your nose was touching his. Even now, your smile didn’t wane. “Do y’think I’m gonna kill you?”

When he tried to pull back, you followed him, intoxicated by the warmth of his skin against yours. A nervous and animalistic chirp made his chest vibrate. “Why— Why haven’t you?”

“‘Cause I like you,” Again, you told him this truth with an ease that seemed to startle him. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, searching you like he was expecting to find a lie.

“Why?” The vulnerability in his tone made you want to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole. “What happens when you don’t like me anymore?”

“Dunno.” Your shrug was a full body jolt given your position. It pushed you even closer to him, your stomach against his. Aegon’s expression flickered, almost resembling disappointment. Maybe that response wasn’t good enough. Carefully, you put your hand on his neck and pressed him flat against the thin mat so that you were hovering over him. What he was laid up on was better than anything the knights outside had. Spoiled dog. “I hadn’t thought about it too much. Honestly, my prince, I think I really like you.”

His breath was coming quick, some new emotion that you didn’t recognize making his nostrils flare. “… Do you?”

“Can we be friends forever? Promise I won’t kill you if you say no. I don’t think I’ve ever had a real one, and I’d like you to be my first.” Wide-eyed silence was all you got in response, though the dusting of color to his pale cheeks made your heart tremble. Your smile did not fall. Not once. “I’m no knight, but I’d like to keep you tucked away. Nice ‘n safe. Away from everyone who’d hurt you.” Increasing the pressure on his throat, your grin got wild as his pupils blew wide enough to shadow the purple. “C’mon, puppy. Just say yes.”

Aegon’s nod was a sharp jerk of his chin. Pleased, you loosened your grip. Despite this, sarcasm dripped from his bite, sweet like honey. “Who better than a killer?”

“Mean it?” He nodded again, only to wheeze when you dropped your weight limp on top of him. Delight made you feel giddy, your arms snaking around his thin shoulders to squeeze him tight. The heat that exuded from his body was hotter than you had ever felt, though the little shiver that Aegon gave when you buried your face into his shoulder made your blood blaze in your veins.

Awkwardly, he patted your back with stiff limbs. “… Alright, man, get off of me before someone sees.”

“Affection and friendship go hand in hand, puppy.” Pulling back, you sat back and allowed Aegon to follow and scrub the tiredness from his face. Your next words made him scowl, “Or’d lickin’ your face be all you understand?”

“If you get your spit anywhere near me, whatever insane friendship you’ve forced me into is over.”

“Was kiddin’, my prince.”

“Yeah, well, I never know with you.”

After that, Aegon decided that you were safe to talk to again. He spoke about nothing of importance, mostly the brothels and taverns waiting for him in King’s Landing. What kept you pleasant was that you were included in these escapades, his voice lilted ever so slightly in excitement as he recounted the beauty of the Streets of Silk and how much better the palace cooks were than you. You had laughed, slow and deep.

At that, he froze, that delicious fear returning, only to melt away when he realized that you had not taken offense. Instead, and against all odds, you engaged him with interest, a feat that seemed to be few and far between. Judging by the knights surrounding you and their reactions to this particular journey, Aegon was not a particularly popular prince. Or man, really.

It was good to know that all it would take was the bare minimum to be the best for him. Not that you’d stop with just that. A distant jealousy had yet to simmer in your gut, but it was there like a toxic waste. Only ladies of the night were your competition. Sex could only fill someone’s void so much, you’d seen how empty men and women alike appeared to be when you went out in the early hours of the morning, witnessing their walks of shame.

Aegon’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “What was her name again? She— She has dark hair, like a raven, and it never tangles no matter how much you pull. You’d like her, I think. Cunt’s a tight one too.” He hummed, deep in thought. “She makes enough noise to sound like she’s screaming, so perhaps you’ll enjoy fucking her.”

“Nah. Probably wouldn’t.” It was the first time you had interrupted his rambling about prostitutes who he could buy you for a night. Aegon had been at it for the better part of an hour. At the start, he had informed you with a short laugh that it would be unfair for you to be left at the door while he had his fun. What followed was a certifiable catalog of half the women whose bodies were for sale within a ten mile radius of the Red Keep.

“Ah. Quiet like a corpse. That’s what you prefer.” Nose wrinkling, you watched dislike for the prospect of a quiet bedfellow etch across his face.

“Never had a woman like that.”

Aegon’s eyebrows knit, but he managed to bite his tongue. “Well. There’s plenty of men in the brothels too. Not that I know of any.”

Turning your gaze skyward, you watched clouds bumble lazily overhead. Occasionally, the shadow of a bird would pass. You knew how he’d react to what you had to say next. His enthusiasm regarding pleasures of the flesh was enough to prove it. The question was how to phrase it in a way that didn’t make Aegon fall off of his horse. “I’m tryin’ to say that I’ve never been with anyone.”

The laugh that left him was more mean than you figured he meant. Aegon gripped the reins tighter to lean closer to you. “We have to fix that. No friend of mine will be deprived.”

“It’s not that I’ve never had the opportunity, it’s because I’ve never really wanted to.”

That gave him pause.

“That’s madness, man. There’s no greater pleasure,” Aegon said plainly.

A snort made your nostrils flare and your chest to puff out. “I can name one.”

“Do you—” He got shifty-eyed and lowered his voice so as not to attract attention. “The whole… killing activity, do you get off on it?”

Fair question, you weren’t upset that he asked it. It seemed in line with his usual train of thought.

“No. It’s just fun. Like a really exhilaratin’ hobby.” When he didn’t seem convinced, you tapped your chin. You doubted that he knew what a rollercoaster was, and, unfortunately, that was the best comparison that you had. “Think of it like… Have you ever gone so fast that you thought you were gonna die? But instead of being scared, you’re all laughin’ and giddy? Like your head is swimmin’ and you can’t breathe and every part of you is shakin’ so hard that you can barely stand.”

Aegon blinked. “… Sounds like fucking to me.”

Now you were petulant, your tone almost at a whine. “It’s not, though. ‘S like if you rode your horse as fast as it could go and then it bucked you off, but you stood up okay. You feel all invincible.”

Aegon chewed on his cheek and slowed his pace so that his retinue was a few feet ahead. Cole cast a glance over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, only to be waved off. It was easy to read his thoughts, the distant prayer that Aegon would wind up killed by some foreigner behind everyone’s backs. When you grinned at him, you saw his features pinch into a scowl. Aegon didn’t, though, far too fixated on what he wanted to say next.

“That cannot be the sole reason as to why you kill.” Curiosity was practically leaking from him, mingling with barely contained fascination. You felt your lips twitch.

Considering the question, you tilted your head side to side. It was nice to speak so candidly with another considering that your interests left you rather isolated — not that you really cared, or even realized that there was this strange, yawning pit in your gut before this. It warmed you from deep in your belly to the back of your throat. “Do you know why huntin’ is encouraged, my prince?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” A chuckle rumbled along your tongue. As you looked at him, both chiding and expectant, he relented, “To eat. So they don’t go hungry.”

You shook your head. “That’s what livestock is for. The cows, the pigs, the sheep, the goats, the chickens. All of ‘em born for this. Bred for this. To be devoured.”

Aegon pursed his lips, somewhat upset at being wrong. “Then for fun.”

In the crook of your arm, Mango yawned before falling back asleep. She would be hungry soon. Once this conversation was over, you’d have to prepare her a meal of dried meat. “S’pose that’s a good answer. I’ll give you a gold star, but ‘s not what I’m lookin’ for.”

Aegon’s eyebrow twitched. “Spit it out, man.”

“Haven’t you wondered what would happen if no one went on with the hunt? All’a those beasties would breed and multiply until nothin’ else could be done. No fault’a theirs, they’re only doin’ what they were born to do, but wouldn’t it be dangerous if everywhere you went off to, there was a wolf in every bush? A deer crossin’ in front of horses carryin’ on too fast?”

“A dragon behind every cloud?”

A laugh barked from your throat, the reaction confusing Aegon more than you had figured. “Yeah. A dragon. So people gotta hunt. They gotta keep the beasts from takin’ over. Overrunnin’ everything.”

He made a face. “You murder innocent men because you don’t want too many of them around?”

“Nah.” A playful smile showed off your teeth. The sight sent a visible chill down his spine and you relished in it. “I do it because it was what I was born to do. Born to rule, born to have children, born to study, to heal, to learn. And then there’s me, born to hurt. Born to like it.”

Aegon’s pupils flickered across your face, his tone strangled. “I could have you hanged.”

“You could.” You laughed again before you reached down to scratch Mango under the chin. “Don’t look at me like that, my prince, I could just eat you up. I’ve never liked anyone before, so I’ll listen to you ‘cause you’re special. You’re the first human to make me feel so funny inside. Bein’ hung would be a shame. Not when you could be tellin’ me what to do.”

Aegon chose not to respond. He gave you a single glance and trotted ahead without looking at you anymore, let alone meet your persistent stare. A chuckle made your cheeks puff. He’d get lonely and come crawling back in no time. Lucky for him, you could wait.

King’s Landing could be seen stretching on the horizon when you caught wind of it. The smell hit you first, then your gaze snapped to where it laid, smack in the middle of the road, Cole’s horse primed to trample what was the half-rotted corpse of a fox. A girlish squeal, cracking because of your deeper voice, made Aegon whip to glare and Cole’s horse to freeze long enough for you to break from the retinue to examine the corpse.

There were maggots squirming against ivory bone, pieces of meat still left behind for a feast. Uncaring for the filth, you picked up the carcass to study it closer, giddy laughter making you seem younger — sweeter — as larvae began to weave between your fingers.

“I’m alive, sweet babies, nothin’ to eat here,” you murmured.

“What are you doing, man?” The disgust coloring Cole’s tone caused it to come out in a harsh snap. He stared down at you with a curl of his lips, unsure of where to focus, your smile or the grease that was seeping onto your hands.

At first, you paid him no mind, fixated on your find. The skeleton was perfectly intact, a week or two with the maggots and it’d be ready to be cleaned. You checked the teeth and let out a gasp when you found them all there. Yes, yes, this was a great find. It would be a waste to leave it here to be destroyed.

“Man! Put that down, you’re going to catch something,” Cole repeated and your gaze finally jerked to him.

“It doesn’t even have its insides anymore, just’a bit of skin.”

Disbelief made his lips pull back as he looked between Aegon and you. Questioning why he had forced you along, of all the freaks he could have found. “Yes, and? Let’s keep moving, we’ve nearly arrived.” Agreeing easily, you moved to put the bones into the back of one of the carts. Specifically one that didn’t have any food. Just in case. Cole watched, dumbfounded. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Takin’ it with us.” Sheer joy made your voice tremble, though it only served to disturb Cole, and the knights surrounding you. “The skeleton’s in perfect condition. Once the maggots stop their feastin’ I’ll clean it and start a collection.”

“A collection of animal bones?”

Aegon chimed in from afar, his neck stretched so that he was seen, “I think it’s… interesting.” He didn’t, he was grimacing. “What’s the harm in letting him keep it?”

“What’s the—? It’s a carcass!” Throwing out his arm, Cole seemed to be at the end of his rope as he watched you wrap the corpse in cloth.

“Uhhhh,” Aegon intoned, somewhat at a loss for an argument. “Well, it’s mostly bones. So…”

Cole didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.

Once you were done, you stepped away from the cart and returned to your spot at Aegon’s side. Cole stared at the two of you, more angry than you had seen him since the beginning of the journey. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it when you met him with a triumphant smile. Letting out a huff, he turned around on his horse and the retinue started again.

“My mother will be hearing about that,” Aegon griped, his expression somewhat defeated. The closer King’s Landing became, the more Aegon seemed at a loss for words. “I…”

You smiled at him, encouraging. “Yes, my prince?”

Only for his next words to cut you to the bone, “I do want you to live at the Red Keep, and you will be rewarded for what you have done for me…”

Eyes narrowing, your grin sharpened. “Hm, puppy?”

“Listen!” His whole body jerked upright as he licked his dry lips. “If I had it my way, you’d have one of the rooms with the servants, but my mother…”

“I thought you were a prince,” you said with your fists shaking at your sides. Clenched so tightly that it hurt.

“One not meant to be king. The Iron Throne belongs to my sister.” It didn’t sound that this was a fact he was bitter over. In fact, he sounded like he was relieved. Not that it mattered, nor did you care, it was taking all of your self control to keep from giving into your frustration.

None of this changed the fact that you had nowhere to go, and had found out mere hours from your destination. “Where am I s’posed to go?”

“You will be given coin,” Aegon tried, unable to look at you.

“I am a foreigner here,” You said slowly. Carefully etching the meaning as deep as it could go. “You’re my friend, you’re meant to help me.”

“I am! I’m getting you coin! You’ll be in King’s Landing, we can still go drinking and whoring.” When that didn’t lessen your scowl, Aegon weakly tacked on, “I’ll pay.”

“I could really hurt you right now, puppy.”

The color drained from his face. “It is my mother, the queen, not me.” His voice tapered into a frustrated whimper, more frightened than manly. “She hates to see me happy. You must understand”

Against all odds, that made you soften and relief made Aegon slump. You could relate to that. Ma and pa hadn’t liked to see you happy either. The beatings were upsetting to say the least, the ache of bruises and drippings of blood still as vivid as the day they happened, but when you’d been real bad — real, real naughty — pa took you to work. Pa took you to the slaughterhouse.

Taking a steadying breath, you forced your shoulders to loosen and your anger at Aegon to seep from your marrow. It’d lay against your bones for now.

Friends forgave one another. That was how you knew that your puppy was more important than Wickham had ever been, you’d’ve never forgiven him.

“Ask her anyway. Worse she can say is no, and that’s what we’re already expecting.” Hesitancy made his hands twitch on the reins. Rather than allow him to chicken out of your idea, find some way to squirm out of it, you kept talking, “More’n likely, she’ll say no. We know this. You take Mango while I try to find somewhere to sleep.”

“Can’t you—” Upon remembering that you weren’t alone, Aegon lowered his tone to a whisper. “Can’t you kill someone and take their house again?”

“Would you be able to pardon me if I did?” Aegon frowned, giving you his answer. He really did have no power it seemed. Cole was more of a threat than you had thought. “Right. Outta the question.”

Aegon’s eyes flickered as he thought. “… I can sneak you some of my wife’s jewelry to sell. She does not wear it much anyway.”

It took everything in your power not to double over as if struck. You were certain that your very skin was green, the jealousy that you thought nonexistent was swelling until it was strong enough to make you sick.

Wife. Aegon had a wife. Your puppy was a taken man. At your sides, your hands began to tremble, the rage boiling up inside of you enough to make your vision swim.

Through grit teeth, you asked, “Wife?”

Aegon was entirely unaware of your inner turmoil, his response dismissive as he tried to consider solutions to the predicament that he put you in. “My sister, Helaena. She’s a real bore.”

Oh.

Now that left you stumped on how to feel. First of all, relief cooled the poisonous boil in your abdomen, so all encompassing that you felt lightheaded. His wife was a bore, that was nice to hear. He didn’t like her, not like he did you. Aegon didn’t think that you were a bore. That was the first thought out of many. Followed by the fact that he was married to his sister. He was married to his sister. That was… uncomfortable in a way that you didn’t have words for.

All your life, you’d grown up in the hills and hollers of Appalachia. You’d always been privy to sneering northerners, the stereotypes— jeers of incestuous assumptions and your hillbilly intelligence. The fact that he found nothing wrong with ideas that you’d been trying to scrape off of your back for your whole life made your eye twitch. Despite this, you weren’t entirely stupid, this wasn’t Appalachia. You may have had lackluster schooling, but it was not unknown to you that royalty had a long history of inbreeding.

Whatever. He was cute, sister-wife or not, and you weren’t exactly the paragon of morality. Your annoyance fell into acceptance, features pinched in deep thought.

Meanwhile, Aegon seemed to think that your lack of response was due to him insulting his wife. “Helaena isn’t… all bad. You’re both strange, perhaps you would be able to understand whatever is wrong with her.”

Ignoring him, you studied Aegon out of the edge of your vision. “You mean it? You’ll give me somethin’ to sell?”

Aegon snorted, falling back into amusement now that you had spoken. “Don’t get caught with it or you’ll lose your hands.” He turned and blanched at your bland expression, his skin paler than usual. “Not that I would allow it that far.” A nervous laugh left him. You did not entirely believe him. Aegon was lucky that he was so cute. “Yes. Yes. You’ll find something.”

“Will I be allowed to visit you?”

He looked away. Your heart sank as you tried to swallow the sharpness building on your tongue. “Perhaps.”

A ‘no’ if you ever heard it, not that you would let that stop you. “What if you snuck me in?”

“That is an alright idea.” Agreed easily enough to sound like he wanted to. Enough for you to forgive him. Again. “You should not leave my side, however.”

“Alright then, my prince.” The way your title slid between your teeth made sweat appear on his brow. “We got it all figured out.”

You looked at the road ahead, at the approaching walls of King’s Landing.

So long as you got to keep your puppy, you’d survive. For a while, at least.

A/N: I have returned. If you’re not provy to my other fics, I quit my job and I’m starting a new one on Momday! Yay! But that’s not what I’m here to say. First off, the yaoi that’s being cooked here is going to be capital ‘W’ weird. We all know the trope of serial killer corrupts normal person, and usually the character the viewer is supposed to project onto is the normal person. This time, you’re the serial killer and Aegon is a rotten little enabler. I have a lot planned for their dynamic that I consider fundamentally funny, but I hope are also interesting!

Upon this update, I’ll have added the ‘dom reader’ tag. Unfortunately it took until now, thinking about how I’ve written Y/N, I kind of realized that they are going to dom Aegon into a fine paste and I can’t imagine them as a sub. Even when bottoming. On top of that, I wouldn’t call this a fastburn or a slowburn, but aomething that results into a weird obsessive and codependent situationship that involves Aegon is trying to jump through hoops to justify as heterosexual while Y/N daydreaming about sucking the marrow from his bones.

Speaking of Y/N, I really do want to kind of… brace readers with how… well, morally bankrupt they are? While they have a sense of justice (albeit twisted) and a love for animals, they do kind of kill innocent people for genuinely no reason sometimes, lol. In very brutal ways. I enjoy the grittiness of writing gore and horror, so be aware that there will be scenes coming up that may be hard to stomach.

That said! In regards to Helaena. I think it would be entirely unrealistic for someone who is like Y/N to not be viscerally and stomach-churningly jealous of her, especially at the beginning. Listen, I haaaaate the trope of demonizing a female character to make room for yaoi, and I genuinely really love Helaena. I think she’s so darling, and my end goal is for her and Y/N to be as close to friends as Y/N is capable of. What I think will happen is that they will see her as an extension of Aegon, thus someone to be fond of.

This goes for Alicent too. It will kind of seem like I’m villainizing her for a hot second, especially if all we are hearing about her is from Aegon. She is a very complex character, and I really hope to do her justice, but man. I don’t think she’s particularly nice to Aegon — he sucks and a product of marital rape so resentment is a given — and I think he would also… throw her under the bus to get out of trouble with Y/N. Which he kind of did this chapter, although I do think that he seriously believes she doesn’t want him happy. It’s also not far-fetched to think that he would exaggerate how she treats him to Y/N so he can feel vindicated by Y/N’s anger in his defense.

Okay, I’m done rambling. I could go on forever if I’m not careful. If you enjoyed, leave a comment! I’d love to hear from you guys and answer questions that you may have :D I’m having a lot of fun writing these two, although I will admit it’s been a while since I’ve seen the show so forgive any continuity errors. Thank yoooouuuu bye-bye!

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