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“look at what has become of us? both of us have lost everything. and now all that’s left of us…is our pain, our grief. you and me.” rhaenyra chokes back a sob, looking at her half-brother. all that is left of her family. her blood.
aegon gazes back at her, not with disdain or rage, but exhaustion, sadness, defeat. with the same dark circles, the same exact look of madness mirrored in her own violet eyes.
he could be mine own twin, she thinks almost laughing at the realization of how much they are alike. the same shade of silver blonde hair, unkempt and wild. she wishes he would say something, anything to stop her mind from racing, stop the madness from spreading through her like poison.
she longs to hear her brother speak, even though she should hate him, want to tear him apart with her own bare hands. spill his blood all over the realm, sacrifice him—like her own son’s were sacrificed.
but she cannot seem to hate him any longer, wish to see him dead, his pretty head on a spike. because aegon ii targaryen, her brother, is all that’s left of her on this earth, keeping her tethered to her, tied to her fleshly vessel. and as long as he lives, breathes, is bound to her, she is chained to him as well.
“you and me?” he scoffs sadly, bitterly, pushing salt into the gaping wounds that are still bleeding, that have yet to scab over.
“yes, aegon,” she says his name softly, trying to use her words as a binding tourniquet, stave the bleeding of the gashes, the cuts, that run deep, with her tongue. she has always been braver than him, never willing to let failure rule her life again. “we started this mess and we must fix it, or lest—we let it consume us, destroy us. kill us.”
“i do not care, sister. and neither should you. i’ll hand you the dagger myself, while you drink the poison. we can both die together.” aegon retorts, firing back at her with his words, but she sees tears swimming in his eyes, unshed, and it makes her heart seize. her brother has never truly known true unconditional love and affection that one can have for the other. that a mother can have for a son. a sister for a brother.
she can’t help herself, for she was a mother—for she is his sister.
“aegon, do you not think that we have both drank enough of the poison fed to us since we were born? and i will not spill anymore of our blood, it is far too precious now, more than a bloody throne. or valyrian steel.” rhaenyra walks towards him gracefully, as a queen would towards their king, and gently grips her brother’s pallid cold cheeks in her hands, longing to bring warmth, rosiness back to them.
the siblings have never been this close to one another. this kind of intimate proximity unbidden to them, forbidden by otto hightower’s garbled poison fed to alicent, the same way she undermined, poisoned her first born son with.
aegon looks up at her, his dark glassy violet eyes, still full of unshed tears. he looks haunted, so haunted, older than the young man he is. he reminds rhaenyra of their father, a king of the seven kingdoms, with all the unwanted weight, the burden laden upon him. since he was pushed from his mother’s womb. brought into this world with only this purpose, to be her challenge, her opponent, her enemy.
“we are family, aegon. you are my brother.” she strokes over the divot in his chin with her thumb, eyes drinking in every scar, mark, freckle, every indication that they are related, of the same bloodline.
“half.”
it’s all he says, spitting the word out like a curse, a reminder of the past, but rhaenyra ignores it presently, taking aegon’s hand in hers and pressing it against her beating heart, right above her full breast, towards his future. she swallows, heart rattling like a drum, not realizing how much she’s missed being touched so intimately in a year.
“feel my heart, brother,” she accentuates the word, hoping each syllable rings true deep inside him; in his spirit. she bites her lip, suppressing a slight moan, when aegon’s hand flexes, nearly brushing her hardened nipple. and she wishes he would. she desires for him to be bold, to be the wrathful dragon, plundering and pillaging, taking and taking, burning her, until there is nothing left.
but instead his hand remains motionless, stiff, refusing to mold to her flesh like molten fire. “aegon, please, feel my heart beating. the blood flowing through my veins is as much mine as it is yours, dear brother.” rhaenyra guides his hand upwards towards her warm skin, dipping his fingers beneath her gown, letting him feel the heat from her breast. the burning flesh, feverish with want, with desperation.
rhaenyra gazes deep into his eyes, seeing something alight, a spark starting to spread and it emboldens her, so she presses his hand more firmly against her heart, his calloused fingers deeper into the top of her gown, until his rough fingertips touch her hardened nipple, making them both gasp.
“sister,” aegon’s breath hitches and she can feel him shivering from their shared warmth, the closeness they should have had all along. but it’s not yet too late...fate now giving them both another chance to make things right.
“yes, brother,” rhaenyra moans, feeling his fingers curl around her sensitive nipple, no longer able to hold back the desire, the lust that swirls through her like a hurricane, overwhelming and over entrenching. “more.” she says, knowing that word is enough to push him to the point of no return. pushing them beyond containment because they will both lose control in the other. for they are two sides of the same coin of madness. and only they can complete one another now.
and rhaenyra is the key to unlocking everything unbidden in her brother, unleashing it all.
aegon’s lips are on hers before she can meet him halfway, kiss him first. and she understands he needs this, mayhaps, even more than she does. for in this moment, he’s a dragon starved, feasting, devouring on her flesh, his mouth inhaling her in like the sweetest aphrodisiac. her divine taste— a cure, unlike dreamwine or milk of the poppy, for all ailments he’s suffering. more potent and powerful, all consuming, all encompassing.
and so rhaenyra opens her mouth to him, lets him twist her tongue with his, in another dance of the dragons. aegon clutches the front of her chest with both hands now, tearing her gown downwards to release her heavy teats to his gluttonous, greedy gaze, groping the meat of her tender breasts in his hands.
“oh, fuck,” rhaenyra groans, unable to help the curse, the hiss, that escapes her throat, his fingers prodding and pulling on her pink peaked tips.
“rhaenyra,” her brother growls her name so brazenly, so beautifully. and every syllable reverberates down her spinal cord, through her veins, straight to her core. towards her cunt that is dripping and drenched, desperate to be full and filled, only by him.
“please,” rhaenyra closes her eyes, pleading against aegon’s lips unabashedly, her hands groping the front of her brother’s hardness unashamedly, trying to mold his cock into submission with her hand. “i need you, aegon. i need to be fucked, brother, to be full of you.” she squeezes his cock a little too harshly in her hand, biting down into his bottom lip, pricking and piercing the skin, drawing his blood with her teeth for the first time. the bittersweet coppery twang of it streams into her mouth, coating her mouth.
it makes them both ravenous, insatiable for one another.
“more.” aegon grinds his groin into the palm of her hand, digging his jagged nails into her nipples, begging rhaenyra for more of her pointed teeth upon him. begging for her to be the dagger, the sharp valyrian steel, that spills his blood. that only she has permission to. for his flesh, the fire in his blood, belongs to her solely now. and it feeds her volatility, the violence beneath her bones that rattles and resonates with both brother and sister.
she sucks on his bottom lip, soothing it with her tongue, before her hands unlace his breeches frantically, freeing his weeping cock, gripping its girth close in her fist. “fuck, rhaenyra.” aegon jerks up into her embrace, so she closes her fingers tighter around him, tongue dipping into the mark on his chin, before her mouth moves downwards, towards the underside of his jaw. his stubble scratches her smooth skin and it feels sumptuous along her forlorn flesh, long forsaken by the fevered flesh of another.
“tell me you need me, aegon,” she murmurs into the crook of his neck, his cock perfectly molded and shaped in her small enclosed hand; shielded and sheltered, held steady by her. “tell me you want me.” her teeth graze over his throat and he swallows, breathing labored, nostrils flared, eyes closed, heart beating erratically, unevenly. her younger brother, lost to every sensation, every sensuous and serpentine slithering of her inexorably entrenching herself into his very soul and spirit. the elder sister taking root in his body, in the very veins, bones, and muscles that twist and tangle her in their intricacy.
a queen capturing and conquering the king, caged within her motherly wings, her pointed claws, her maw clutching onto him forever. and so rhaenyra bites her dragon again, but harder, harsher, vulgarly gnawing on his wounded skin, his blood flowing into her, flooding her mouth. a primal roar emits low in her throat, and she clings to his jugular, wanting to drain him of every drop.
“fuck!” aegon yelps, whining, and rhaenyra yanks his head backwards by his hair, running her fist along his manhood, demanding his compliance, commanding his body, his bones to bend, to sway and swing towards her like the branches and limbs of a tree. but not to break him because she needs him whole, sturdy and standing, rooted to her, not rotting from the inside out.
but first she must have his seed, milk it from his lithe body, have it take root deep inside the rot, bringing forth new life; a rebirth.
rhaenyra reluctantly relinquishes her damning hold on him, and aegon whimpers, her hold forever intertwined, interwoven into every crevice and crack, mending, sewing him back together with the scarlet string that links them together, unbent, unbroken.
“brother, sit,” she says hotly, his blood thick and red like pomegranate juice upon her plush lips, pushing him backwards into their father’s seat, with fiery fervor, but not rage, nor hate. running and raking her nails, her gaze, along her brother’s handsome body, she eyes his cock, standing proudly, flushed an angry shade of crimson, weeping, straining, matching the blood staining his neck, his pale chest, his now rosy cheeks.
and then rhaenyra’s eyes are on his wide, hungry eyes, seeing the beginning of hope, the flowering of spring; lilac staring into deep violet, blooming under a new rising sun.
she keeps her orbs locked with aegon’s, mesmerizing him, memorizing every fleck of gold that shines brighter in them when she reveals more of her hidden skin to him, tearing the black gown from her curves wholly.
he stares up at her in awe, mouth agape, the sunlight filtering through, haloing her silver hair, encircling her in a golden crown of the most glorious sun rays. a crown to echo the one rhaenyra lost everything for. lost everything to gain this. for she is his now. his savior. his sister. his goddess, his queen, with his fire and blood dripping deliciously from her mouth.
she steps closer towards his shadow, letting the sun touch it, bathe her brother in its luminous light, letting it blind him and bind him to her.
“kiss me,” rhaenyra demands and aegon is ferocious, feral, pulling her towards him, sealing his lips to hers, licking up the blood she extracted from him so exquisitely, so effortlessly.
“nyra,” he growls, gutturally, his teeth gnawing onto her own lip, desperately trying to puncture it with as much perseverance, persistent on gorging and getting drunk off of her sweetness and blood.
“yes, aegon. yes.” rhaenyra extols, giving him permission, and so aegon does, rupturing through his sister’s pink flesh with his teeth lecherously, extracting her blood, tasting it alongside his.
“brother, my sweet brother.” she praises, both exchanging breaths, sharing the air in their lungs, the blood of one another, with each other. and rhaenyra descends herself downward, sinking her supple, slick cunt onto her brother’s stiff manhood, engulfing and suffocating him with her heat.
“sister!” he cries, his head falling back against the cushion, her voluptuous plump body beginning to bounce against his, contouring against his leaner one.
“oh, gods,” rhaenyra moans, biting her bloodied lip raw, beginning to ride him viciously and wickedly, his cock penetrating her deeply.
she watches aegon, with his eyes closed tightly, fists clenched around the arms of their father’s chair. a chair that their father as king occupied daily, commanding the realm, serving his realm, while rhaenyra kept quiet, bit her tongue, and served her king and his men.
and now she rides his son—another king upon it. while each submits their body in servitude towards one another, a slave to each other’s insatiable pleasure.
rhaenyra’s peak is nigh, crescendoing inside her like the waves of a volatile sea, rising inside her, the higher the sun sets on the horizon, illuminating both dragons in its golden light.
“finish inside me,” rhaenyra orders, thrusting and rotating her hips into his, hearing him hiss before he latches onto her throat in the exact place she marked him; reclaiming what should have been his since the moment he was born. what should have been hers as much as the realm, the crown, and the throne.
“give me your seed.” she groans, feeling aegon’s hot searing tongue upon her tender and torn throat, licking her wounds. before the waves of pleasure crash inside her, drowning her in a mixture of salt and sea, as tears stream down her face. “give me your son, aegon.”
this time aegon kisses her softly, with yearning, but hungrily, the curve of his lips sculpted by the gods, shaped to fit against hers faultlessly, immaculately. rhaenyra tastes the iron, the bitterness of her blood, interlaced with the sweetness of him—her brother.
the burning beneath his flesh, his very soul that scorches her, burns brighter and more incandescent than any star or sun. and she’s his silver moon mirroring that luminosity, brilliantly lighting the way towards both of their salvation.
for targaryens were always meant to burn together—one body, one soul, one heart, one spirit.
she cups aegon’s face in her hands, thrusting her body languidly, longingly, not wanting him to ever leave her.
“i love you, brother.” rhaenyra confesses against her brother’s lips, telling him those three words for the first time, for she means every single word. and the storm breaks, lightning cracking, catapulting both siblings towards the highest and thunderous peak of their lives.
“sister!” aegon’s piercing cry rings out, as the sun sets and shadows engulf them, but they are together this time, tangled and tethered, closer than ever, eclipsing one another. he holds tight to her, hugging her to him, his mouth latching onto her breast, clinging to every piece of her he can clutch.
rhaenyra’s velvet and vice tight cunt selfishly milks his cock, every drop into the warmth of her womb, welcoming him, her king. and aegon selflessly offers himself up, willingly, worshiping his own goddess, his queen.
and as king and queen, brother and sister, they shall begin anew, as husband and wife.
"don't worry, my son. just because your sister is older, doesn't mean you matter any less." aegon laughed, his smile lighting his face up is the most exquisitely, ethereal way.
"valarr." he let his son's name roll of his lips as venerated as a prayer, cupping their babe's silver haired head in his hands with such tenderness, it made rhaenyra's heart swell.
"a fine name for a prince. one of valor, if i must say, my husband." rhaenyra teases, lightly trailing her fingers over the inside of aegon's wrist, affectionately, causing goose pimples to rise along his flesh.
"yes, wife," aegon breathes deeply, eyeing their other silver haired babe at her breast, nursing contentedly, nearly asleep. “a brave brother for his older sister.”
rhaenyra laughs, rolling her eyes, “only by a mere minute, aegon.”
“and they shall be closer than we ever were growing up..thank the gods.” aegon places valarr in the cradle next to their bed, then takes their sleeping daughter away from rhaenyra’s breast, placing her next to her twin.
”viserra,” he presses his lips to her forehead, “my sweet viserra. every bit her mother’s daughter.” aegon chants, sighing against her skin, his violet eyes catching rhaenyra’s.
and his beautiful gaze is full of light, of hope, of love.
rhaenyra tries to speak, tries to say her brother’s name, but her throat is thick with emotion, so she extends her hand to him, beckoning him towards her.
and he holds it, intertwining and interlacing their fingers together, gripping her tightly.
”i love you, rhaenyra,” he confesses for the first time out loud, for her to hear, with his own lips. and it’s the most holy words he’s ever said, that she’s ever heard; the sweetest and heavenliest honeyed wine dripping from his tongue.
she pulls him towards her, kissing him to reassure that she knows, has always known—luring her sun to her with her moonlight that seeps into every crack and crevice of his soul, healing every wound, sealing every internal cut, a soothing balm for each scar.
“i know, brother.” she cups his face and tears fall freely down her face and rhaenyra welcomes them, for they are ones of happiness, of the utmost joy.
“sister,” her brother groans into her mouth, glancing down towards her chest, where her rosy tips are leaking onto the her husband’s naked chest. rhaenyra sighs when he cups her swollen teats, molding his hands with their shape, before he’s moving his lips once more.
“please, mother.” he seeks her permission and rhaenyra relents graciously yanking aegon by the roots of his hair and pushing her dripping, hardened nipples into his waiting mouth.
”yesss, my sweet brother,” she hisses, his mouth moaning, latching hungrily, drinking, needing to desperately drown his lungs in her mother’s milk, just as he has with her blood—their blood.
his fingers snake between her sore cunt, finding the hidden aching pearl that brings the most exquisite pleasure. for his mouth and fingers know her body, how to expertly draw out her peak in mere moments. and aegon does it hastily, afraid he’ll lose her forever. and so she climaxes fast, hearing him suck her teats fiercely, his fingers furiously dragging another peak from her body.
”no more, please. she begs quietly, trying not to wake the twins, before he does it once more, determined to ruin her extravagantly. and this time rhaenyra bites her lip to keep from moaning her brother’s name aloud. she’s eager for him wholly, wanting him to fill her womb once more, but she knows she must wait, be patient. but nonetheless her body trembles effortlessly, exhaustively, her cunt soaks his fingers and he drains her of her milk, before he finally finishes.
“gods, wife. i will never tire of your sweetness.” aegon collapses next to her, panting and breathless, licking his lips and rhaenyra seals her lips to his, stealing the sweetness from his tongue, wanting to share in the nourishment that feeds their babes.
”well, husband,” rhaenyra yawns, nestling her backside into her brother’s very hard and leaking cock, rubbing her ass against it. “i am exhausted and must sleep.”
”rhaenyra!” aegon hisses, feeling his wife’s hand reach around and encircle around his girth, gripping it tightly.
“goodnight, brother.” rhaenyra squeezes his head, petting it, patting it, then leaving him without her touch, teasing him. and aegon groans frustratedly, while she smirks knowingly.
because they both know she won’t leave him wanting long, waiting for her, not like she has in the past.
because as brother and sister they belong to one another, like a body belongs to a soul, connected by veins, arteries, a heart. and rhaenyra is the very heart of aegon. and her blood makes his heart beat, with fire, fervency.
free from the shackles of the bitterness, made whole by the blossoming sweetness; with the burning bond that’s unbreakable between them.