The Cage Of My Rib
"Aegon?" "Mmm." "They say twins come from a split rib... do you think it is true?" "Pfft, no. If it were, I'd be short and ugly like you!"
Aegon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Aemond Targaryen | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest, twin!reader, wife!reader, pregnancy, motherhood, post-rook's rest, angst, fluff, typos, etc.
A/N: this is a fic I wrote for my lovely luna. im going to be completely honest with you. i had a vision then i didnt... i dont know if this has a happy ending im so sorry T_T HAHAHAHAHA @vhagar-balerion-meraxes I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!
His skin was scalding as he stormed into the dragon pit. His nostrils flared at the sight of the dragon about to exit and take flight. He clenches his fists, "keligon."
My mount rumbles at the sound of the command. I, at first, do not realize the command was given and pat my dragon's skin, encouraging her to continue.
"KELIGON!"
Both my dragon and I turn, seeing Aemond march towards us with a face painted in fury. He screams again, "STOP!"
I furrow my brows and hush my ride when she grows restless. She screeches at Aemond to show her displeasure, and so in turn, I have to calm her down as my he approaches. I pull on my reins and scowl at him. I quip in High Valyrian, "you dare command Rhovior while I am mounted?"
Aemond looks up at me, pulse raging in anger. He screams again at her, commanding my dragon to obey him with such severity that she forgets her own predatory inclination and submits. Rhovior then cranes her long neck to the side and looks up at me. Her violet eyes reflect my own and I rub her pinkish scales before turning back to the man.
"Get down," he commands me in High Valyrian, reaching a hand out to me.
I clench my jaw and tilt my head at him, "I do not wish to."
His nostrils flare, "you truly think it wise to fly on dragonback in the middle of a war?"
"I am not flying into war, brother."
"You are not flying anywhere," he snaps, "wife."
Rhovior was getting restless again. She begins to shake her head and shift towards Aemond. I have to calm her down, lest the one-eyed prince be left one-armed or worse. He at least has the mind to step away from her at this point, his hands coming to his side.
Aemond clenches his jaw as I calm Rhovior. I grunt when part of the saddle digs into my belly. My husband flinches, boot skidding forward on instinct. He hisses in the High Valyrian once more, "you are in no state to be flying."
I make sure my ride is completely calm before finally dismounting. Once I do, Aemond comes upon me, glaring down with a furious eye.
"I am her rider," I repeat in the same tongue, "she would not cause me harm."
"She does not need to cause you harm for harm to come to our child."
I step forward. My protruded belly barely brushes against him, "she would not harm my child."
"Our child," he corrects, "I have as much say on what happens to the babe as you do."
I sigh and close my eyes. I hear Aemond command the dragon keepers to bring Rhovior back into the pit. I rub my belly and ignore my husband, walking past him.
"Do you think you would be spared simply because you are a woman with child? Rhaenyra will spare none in King's Landing to have her way."
I remove my gloves while he follows after me. I respond by the time I feel him beside me, "as I said, I was not flying into w-"
"Flying at all is an act of war," he grabs my arm, forcing me to face him, "you are my wife."
I whip my head, pulling my arm out of his clutch, my silver hair flipping behind me.
"You carry my seed."
"Trust me, Prince Regent, I know what I carry inside me better than you."
Aemond's jaw sets. The muscles on his face feather. I can practically feel the anger radiating off him. My stomach begins to churn. I look down and sigh. I step forward and grab his bicep. I can feel his muscles are tense. I whisper, "I would not have flown far."
He does not reply.
I look up at him. His face is bound in anger. I reach for his cheek, but he pulls away and steps back before I touch him.
I gulp. I allow my hands to drop.
His silence held the violence of a storm, and his stoic expression held something searing beneath it. His voice held a false serenity as he whispered, "you'll have to kill me before you forfeit so much to a dead man walking."
I stare at him. I do not argue with his distasteful comment nor do I correct his belief that I meant to fly out to do something for the said man.
I simply walk away after he's said his piece and head for my chambers.
I change out of my riding clothes and go to the nursery. I dismiss the wet nurse and tell her I will continue breast feeding my son.
I immediately take my child onto my hip and rub his back as I make my way down the hall. Aenar sighs into my shoulder, his soft cheek pressed against my neck. I make it to the King's quarters and nod at the Kingsguard stationed outside his room as he opens the doors for me.
I stop just as I enter; the sight and the smell never gets easier to palate. I shift my boy in my arm when he begins to fuss. A mewl from across the room makes my heart twinge.
I walk towards the bed, the sound of my heels on the tiles reverberate in the otherwise silent chamber. By the time I sit down on the chair beside the bed, Aenar is restless, and so I undo the ribbons on my chest and allow my baby to feed.
I stroke my son's head, rocking him in my arms slightly, but my eyes are on the man before me and his are on mine. Aegon's lilac gaze is watery. His lips are dry as he speaks, "you shouldn't be here."
I adjust my son in my arms so his weight doesn't put so much pressure on my belly. I rub the boy's bald head, "and where should I be, my king?"
He scoffs but regrets it when he breaks into a ragged cough. I huff when it doesn't seem to stop and reach for the glass of water on his bedside table. I manage to keep a firm grip on son as I help him drink. Liquid spills from the corner of his lips and soon he shakes his head, making me pull away.
"There is no king here."
I simply wipe his skin, careful not to irritate him. Aegon watches me, or rather, he watches Aenar. I freeze when he grabs my wrist weakly before I pull away.
His voice is soft and strangled, "you misunderstand."
He releases his hold. I put the cloth down.
"I don't want you here."
We stare at each other. I am unfazed because I knew he did not mean it. I adjust Aenar in my arms. He stops suckling after this, and so I move him to my other shoulder and lace up the ties on my chest. I rub his back and gently pat him, "shall I move to the other side of the bed then?"
Aegon does not reply.
Aenar burps softly. I lean into him and kiss his head, "good boy."
His eyes water. He screws them shut, "do not insult me further-" his nostrils flare, "-and fucking leave."
My brows knit, "I've not yet helped you ea-"
"I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" he snaps, spit flying out his mouth as he screams.
I jolt at the severity of his tone. Aemond, even with his display prior, was never one to shout at me, not even as a child. Aegon, however, always did. It did not make it any bearable. Aenar too was affected by the shout. He promptly begins to sob.
I immediately begin to rock him and shush him. When he does calm, I cradle him in my arms and sing to him. It was my favorite High Valyrian lullaby, one that our father sung to us in but a few instances or less.
Aegon's face twitches at the sound. The act causes his tender injuries to flair. Tears stream down his face.
It takes two repetitions of the song for my baby finally find peace again. By the time he does, I feel out of breath. I sit back down but do not stop rocking him. Aenar coos and I do not dare to cease my singing.
That is, until, Aegon calls my name.
Not only do I stop singing, I stop moving altogether.
His eyes are closed and his voice is shaky, "your being swells with life while mine wastes away."
"No, you get better everyda-"
"I am a dead man walking," he chuckles dryly, "I cannot even walk-"
"And did Aemond tell you this?"
His eyes slowly open. A tear drips into his mouth, "I know what I carry inside me better than he."
Aenar begins to fuss again, and so I bring him to my shoulder and pat his back.
Our silence is broken by the sound of my brother and I saying each other's names at once. I pull my chair close to him. He slowly shakes his head in disagreement, screwing his eyes shut.
"I am here," I tell him.
He chuckles, "I pray you were not."
"I will always be here, Aegon. Your woes are mine and my joy is yours."
He slowly opens his eyes. He sniffles and mumbles, "you are not my wife."
"I am your twin-"
"I am glad of it," he reaches out a hand. I perk and lean in, knowing exactly what he wanted instinctively. I maneuver Aenar until he was laid back in my arms. Aegon's curled hand comes to my son's leg. His breathing is heavy, "he would have been Jaehaerys."
I clench my jaw and place my hand atop his.
He huffs slowly through his mouth, "I cannot feel you anymore."
I rub his burnt hand, "perhaps not in flesh, but always in heart."
Aegon slowly pulls his hand away.
"I wanted to pick you flowers, but Aemond did not let me."
"I would not have either if I were him."
"But you are not."
"I wish sometimes I was," he looks away, "how content I would have been to be born the second son... to have you."
"You have me."
He chuckles, mumbling under his breath, "do not tell him that. My injuries are suffice."
I cradle Aenar as he snuggles into my breast.
"Do you remember what you asked me when we were children?"
I nod, immediately knowing what he meant, "if twins are split from the rib?"
He hums, "if we were, I am glad that you are rid of me."
"I am glad we are not joined at the rib, but I do not wish to be rid of you."
He mumbles my name. No one but himself hears.
I adjust my baby's collar, "I should put him down. I will return before your supper is served."
He does not reply. I give him one last look before heading back.
I enter the nursery. I stop in my tracks when I see the figure looming over the cot. Aemond turns over his shoulder. I blink at the sight of his distraught expression before walking over to him.
I stop beside him, debating where I should place my son. I decide to hand him to Aemond, who graciously takes him into his arms. Aenar mewls before settling against him. A line forms between Aemond's brows as he gazes at the boy. He mutters, "how is he?"
His words hold double meaning and yet I could feel like it was a trick, to see if I would talk about Aegon.
I step closer, gazing at the infant who was blissfully unware of all that was around him. I stroke his cheek with my finger, "he is tired," I pull away, "not unlike his father."
Aemond turns to me as I rub my belly. He clenches his jaw but says nothing.
I cautiously reach out for his cheek. He does not pull away from me this time, "I will return to join you for supper."
I wait for him to respond. I walk out when he does not. He watches as the door close. He turns away after the click.
"Keligon, muña," Aemond mutters as though it was his son speaking. He then shushes him, "muña kessa daor henujagon īlva..."
Mother will not leave us.
"... my son."
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