Love and War - Aemond/Aegon Targaryen

Chapter 13

A knock at the door woke Aegon up.
His head was still clouded from the large doses of milk of the poppy that the Maesters had been giving him to keep the pain at bay.
He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like years... And yet it couldn't have been more than weeks? Maybe only days. Time was difficult to gage.
“Enter.” He groaned, the light in his room burning at his eyes.
It was one of two people. The only two people who came to visit him.
His mother.
Or her.
He could remember it all so clearly - the only thing that remained clear in his fog of confusion.
She had begged him to keep Aemond safe. To bring him home to her.
They'd fought together like brothers. Side by side against Rhaenys and the red queen.
Like they should've been from the start.
All those years of tormenting his little brother, all those years of fighting against him, of not being there when Aemond needed him because he was too busy deep in the bottom of a wine barrel... But he was there this time.
He protected Aemond this time. 
He didn't know if he'd done it for her or for him. But he'd done it.
And then he remembered falling. He remembered it in slow motion. All of his life, all of his choices, flashing before his eyes.
Whores and servants and ladies at court.
His father yelling at him for nothing in particular.
His mother yelling at him for everything in particular. She'd tried hard to get him to be better. Too hard.
The night Aemond lost his eye. The night he realised that it was his fault. That he'd played Aemond and Luke and Jace against each other. That it he'd not been there. That he'd cost his little brother an eye.
Every night since... With Aemond growing more and more resentful of him.
Of Helaena.
He was most sorry for Helaena.
He thought about how he could never tell her that. About how he hated Daemon with everything in his body. About how the small council had to stop him from flying to Dragonstone and burning them all himself. About how he loved their children. About how he missed Jaehaerys too.
He wished he'd been there more.
But the last thoughts he'd had were of Arlenna.
She had always been there.
At first, she'd been a bit like a flea that he couldn't shake. Always there. Always annoying him.
Then she'd been like this infuriating beacon of truth, telling him things that he didn't want to hear. He always trusted her. Trusted her opinions. Because she never lied. She never sugar coated what she said to him or tried to strike fear into him. No. With Arlenna, it was always the harsh truth.
And when she'd gone... When she was in Oldtown, he missed her.
He'd never told anyone that. He'd never told her that. But he had.
He'd missed her biting sarcasm and scathing remarks. He'd missed their arguments - the way he could get her angry like no one else could. He missed her shoving him off horses and into piles of crap and jabbing him in the ribs beneath tables.
Because she cared enough to do it.
Even if it hurt, even if she hated him, it was something.
Before he hit the ground he remembered after she'd come back.
He remembered the sound of her laugh. The way the moonlight hit her face when they'd gone into Kings Landing. The way he'd wanted to kiss her.
He remembered that that was the moment he realised he'd never wanted anything in his life. Anything except her.
The throne, the crowds, the fortune, it all meant nothing to him. It made him feel nothing.
But her?
The only time he'd ever felt alive was when he was with her.
He'd spent his whole life chasing highs from women and alcohol and the milk of the poppy that he could steal from his father. But none of it made him feel the way she did.
And then it all went black. It all went black and he thought he'd died.
He could hear her still. Begging him to wake up. Begging him to fight. Begging him to come back to her.
And when he opened his eyes, when he saw her, he thought he'd made it to the heavens.
But he knew he'd never see any heaven. He knew exactly where he was going.
So she was real.
She was real and she was there and she missed him.
And he was given a second chance.
A second chance to give her everything she deserved.
The door opened and he could tell by the sound of each footstep that it was her.
“I can come back if you'd wish?”
He opened one eye. The light was too bright.
“May you draw the curtains?”
Immediately she nodded and rushed over to close them, making sure that as little light seeped through as possible.
He sighed in relief.
His whole body hurt from the movement.
“How are you feeling?” She asked.
“Like I was burned by dragonfire and fell from the sky.”
She sighed, making her way over to him.
Her dress was simple. Not at all like what she usually wore. It was pale and blue and... It was Helaena's, he realised.
Her hair almost looked like it had been done by Helaena too. But not quite.
His wife's hair was far neater.
She noticed him staring and her cheeks went pink. “Jaehaera and Visenya dressed me today. They wanted us all to match. With Helaena too. We uhm... We got her to eat, to dress, even to leave her chambers. It didn't last long but she did it. Jaehaera was almost dancing for joy.”
He gave a weak smile. “I'm glad.”
It was true. He was.
Helaena had lived nothing but misery and he blamed himself for most of it.
He'd spent a lifetime feeling cheated. Feeling trapped. Feeling like he never had a choice.
He'd never really thought about her choice.
“You look...” He tried, but the words melted on his tongue as she stared back at him. “How are you? How is Aemond?”
“Aemond is going to Harrenhal with See Criston. They intend to take it back and kill Daemon.”
A part of him was glad to hear that too. For everything he'd done, Daemon deserved to die. All of them did.
But he saw the crinkle of her brows, the dark circles under her eyes, the way she stared off into space.
That wasn't his Arlenna.
“You don't want him to go?”
“I- I know that he has to. I want the war to be over. I want Daemon gone. But I... I'm scared. I've always been at Aemond's side. I can't imagine not... Not...”
“He's not going to die.”
“You don't know that.”
“He's not. I've known my brother even longer than you have. Trust me. He'd walk through the seven hells to get back to you. Any sane man would. And Aemond won't just fly headfirst into battle. He's not stupid. He'll have a plan.”
“But what if-”
“Gods, Arlenna, what if the roof collapses and kills us both right now? What if I'd never been crowned King? What if we'd gotten married instead of you and him? Anything can happen. We can't be afraid until we die.”
She smiled, gently reaching out to take his unburnt hand.
He looked down at their entwined fingers and felt his breath catch in his throat.
“When did you get so wise?” She asked.
“Somewhere between the burning and the falling out of the sky.”
She laughed.
That was the laugh. The one he'd thought of as he was about to die.
“Are you laughing at your King's injuries?” He asked pointedly.
There was a throbbing in his head from the milk of the poppy and the burns along his skin were starting to tingle. He'd be in agony soon.
“I would never, my King.”
“I think you are. That's treason, you know?”
“No it's not, Aegon.”
“It is if I say it is.”
She blinked at him.
It made it impossible for him to hold back his grin.
Smiling hurt his face but it was hard to stop himself when he was with her.
“You arse!” She exclaimed, pulling her hand away from his.
“Hey! I could have you whipped for that.”
“Could you really, my King? And would you like to have me whipped?”
She said it angrily but it made him smirk nonetheless.
“Mayhaps.” He considered, looking her up and down.
“Stop that!”
“Stop what? I didn't do anything. I'm just your dying King.”
The rather endearing anger fell from her face in an instant and he immediately regretted his choice of words.
She slumped back down onto the chair.
Not gracefully.
Not elegantly.
No. She looked like she did when they'd been children. When she'd been feral and wild and she'd shown all of her emotions without apology. Without any mask to hide behind.
“Don't say that.” He voice was barely a whisper.
We're their tears in her eyes? His gaze was too unfocused to tell.
“I'm not going to die anytime soon.” He promised.
“I don't-” He was startled by how quickly she burst into tears. It wasn't like her. None of this was like her. “I keep losing everyone I love and- and Aemond and you and... I can't. I can't lose you. You can't. You're not allowed to die. I-”
“I'm not going to die.” He promised. “I have a lot to live for.”
She sniffled, the tears still falling down her cheeks.
He wanted to reach up and wipe them away but he was already in too much pain to move.
So, instead, he gestured with his hand for her to come closer.
He knew it was far too serious when she made no argument and simply did as asked.
He didn't like it.
He liked when she argued.
He liked when she got angry.
He liked her when she was being herself.
Not this.
Not the pain that seemed to radiate from her.
Gently, he pulled her into him.
Her head rested on the unburnt side of his chest and she continued to weep.
His skin was wet from her tears, and they began to run straight into his bandaged wounds.
It stung.
Gods, it stung.
But he bit down on his tongue and stayed quiet.
Silently, he smoothed her hair and let her cry.
He wished he could take her pain away. He wished he could put it all onto himself and carry her burdens instead. But he couldn't.
He couldn't do anything anymore.
With painful breath after painful breath, Aegon drifted back out of consciousness.

Honestly in every fic I write, Aegon is always my favourite character to write about like aksjsjdn
I have far too much to say about him
-Rhi