Aegon 1
I was infant to rebirth and the apathy of death. Even with the years spent in this life of lords, I still yet find myself thinking of desires and dreams.
I walked to the window—the glasses of Myr mere blurs to the clarity my incarnation had enjoyed as a peasant. Pushing the casements, the moon’s rays washed over my nude form like a fairytale.
The pleasantness came first…then the goals of new and old demanded I romanticise.
…I indulged.
I was of three ambitions, yet only two lay within my grasp to see fulfilled. But if this merciless world saw fit to grant me the third, I would face my end with scant regret, even should the other two wither unfulfilled.
Such was the nature of love—the truest kind, rarer than even the steel of Valyria, and more coveted.
Many claimed it, of that I was certain. Yet when faced with trial, a crucible to prove that love true, most faltered…failed. Even among those who endured, too many did so out of spite or wounded pride, rather than the purest of truths that love ought to embody.
I would not count myself among the false-hearted, and so I prayed for a woman who might love me as deeply as I would love her. Would such love be mine? My hopes were dim, for even in a kinder world than this, I had still met my end without ever knowing it.
'The cruelty of the fates,'I mused.'Indifferent and more hurtful than that of the gods.'
Darkness became my vision. For a moment, I merely wanted to feel the touch of the wind upon my glistening skin.
And I did.
The world’s breath was rich with freshness… and the sea’s taint. It whistled through the air, a sound soused in melancholy and an innocence long past. Within its whisper, I saw my mother, then my father. I saw my friends as they once were—young, with kites soaring high, their laughter bold as they played at heroism.
I saw still countless memories, this wind full with them. I dared not linger in them much, though, lest my life became depression.
"Only enough for the poetry." I murmured into the night, my voice like authority. "And perhaps a bit more for the hunger."
I ought to have smiled at that, but my expressiveness was lost to stoicism—the dance of intrigue and mummery.
My eyes opened once more, and I was met with a different kind of darkness.
This world’s.
It was morestorythan my last had been, the skies yet to wither from man’s greed. At times—when the linger of addiction was at its lowest—I would think the stagnation was good for it.
"Perhaps the suffering of the people is worth the preservation of this beauty." I would say, while deep in the thighs of a woman who felt more a lover than a sibling.
Then I would see a corpse of a child rotting in the alleys, and my poison would return, ready to taint the world for a few centuries of bliss.
I called it innovation, and I was ever fair with it.
…the illusion crumbled, and I was me once again.
Aegon Targaryen. Sister Fucker and Rider of the Blackest of Dreads.
But what had invoked such thoughts of profundity within me so late in the night? Should I not be sleeping—dreaming of times and fancies most divine…
I turned my gaze to the bed, where a woman lay in peaceful slumber. Her hair was silver as starlight, her skin pale as freshly fallen snow, and her curves both pronounced and impossibly fair.
…or perhaps indulge in the sex of this beautiful woman who harboured for me the poetic love I was waxing of.
I had done the latter…having left the lass in a state one would suffer after a session of overwhelming pleasure and toil.
But the thrice release had left me with thoughts…and fantasy. And this body of witchery and flesh was not so swiftly wearied. Thus I suffered the thoughts, and wondered if I should bring fire and blood to the Andals and First-Men.
After all…
"Subjugating the seven kingdoms was canon."
And I had been too patient with my ambitions.
'Perhaps I ought to abandon this romance I keep praying for, and instead take to the thighs of my wife with seeding intent.'
Amusement stirred within me—not from the incest, no, for I had long since accepted that, my adaptation to it so seamless it felt almost suspect. But for the lack of pregnancy despite her frequency to my bed.
I ought to mistrust her, this sister of mine. She did take to sorcery in moments of fancy, and hadsteelbest suited for those with balls. Perhaps she drank moon tea too, to flush her womb of any spawn I seed in her…
A harsher breeze came in, stealing the scent of sex from the room.
…yet somehow I doubted that—so certain of her loyalty.
It was Rhaenys I ought to be careful of. That one had the makings of someone who would be too free with her cunt.
I shivered, lust and danger intermingling. I was too far gone, lost to the sensibilities of this twisted world. My mother—not the seahorse, but the neglectful one from my former incarnation—would surely condemn me if ever she learned of what I had become.
…my care was absent.
I looked at the ocean—the waves dancing under the star valley and encouraged by the winds.
This was true romance.
…
Visenya stirred.