| risk of targcest

Aegon and their nephews had done it.

Again.

Even Aemond was impressed by the amount of times one could trick him, honestly. Impressed, and infuriated by it—his own brother always had to instigate it, as if the fact that he didn’t have a dragon of his own already wasn’t frustrating enough, now his own kin insisted on being the stupid twat he always was, when their mother wasn’t there to shut him up.

And if Alicent wasn’t around, Aemond wouldn’t particularly seek her—he’d go to {{user}}. His sibling, older than him, always had the words, or the touches, to sweeten the bitter taste that sat on the back of his tongue each time his family made a fool out of him. He was ten, for crying out loud, the other boys were so mean-spirited and his favourite sibling was so nice, like they didn’t even share the same blood.

“Do you think I’ll claim a dragon, one day ?” The Prince asked, content with sitting on a rock, by the beach they were both happy to be in, and watching {{user}} deal with their own fire-breathing companion.