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CHAPTER ONE

THE QUEEN'S HANDMAIDEN

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ALICENT STARES IN SHOCK at the girl before her, a thousand thoughts echoing in her mind, the scene they'd been escorted from at the forefront of it all.

The handmaiden's grip tightened around the seat of the chair, staring at the fire with an expression Alicent knew well.

Her son has never listened to anyone for as long as she'd known him. Her father, the Grand Maester, even she herself could never truly break through his drunken stupor long enough to get him to care.

On some rare occasions Helaena would talk some sense into him, but Aegon had always been...Aegon.

But with one word from a girl he barely knew and suddenly the dagger was gone from his hand, asking Ser Criston to escort her and his mother to their chambers.

It was a worrying scene. One she was glad to be privy to.

Alicent examined the bastard girl before her, trying to decipher how she could have achieved such influence with her son in such a short amount of time.

She'd heard tales of a Dornish beauty in the halls of the Red Keep, but she'd assumed it was the exaggerations of servants, spinning stories to make themselves seem more important than they were.

Now she sees what they mean.

Long black hair tumbled about her shoulders, nearly reaching her waist. It has a gloss to it Alicent never sees amongst the smallfolk, as if more effort has been put into it than the rest of her. Perhaps it has.

It is tied back with a lone blue ribbon, curls soft and weighted as they frame her face.

But it is the eyes that captivate Alicent, and it is the eyes she suspects are the reason her son is so enraptured.

A haunting violet deeper than any Targaryen, in some lights they almost look black. But she sees the doe-eyed look wrought onto her face, the amber of the flames illuminating the irises until she is sure amethysts are staring back at her.

A beauty lost in the sands of Dorne.

What might have been gained if she'd been trueborn and not a bastard?

Alicent remembers the scandal as well as anyone.

Eskander Dayne's death in the Stepstones had sent ripples through Westeros, the promise of tying Starfall to the Reach nearly lost when his brother Emyr returned with a refusal on his lips up until the last of his sisters was taken by pirates and sold to Lyseni slavers.

There'd been rumors he'd been so quick to accept because Lady Myriam Oakheart was already pregnant with Lord Eskander's child There'd also been rumors Lord Emyr had arranged for the kidnapping and murder of his sister and brother himself, to steal their inheritance and take his brother's lady wife as his own.

The truth was revealed seven years later, when a lone trade ship arrived at the port of Starfall from Myr, carrying with it spices and a little girl with the same dark hair and violet eyes as their liege Lord.

It had been a slap in the face to Lady Myriam, who'd given birth to her third child by then.

Only one looked like their father.

"I fear I must apologize for my son's behavior," Alicent choked out, arms crossed as she stood above the girl, a frown beginning to form on her face.

"He won't let me go, will he?"

Alicent's chest nearly split in two at her words. She recognized them as ones she'd said in prayer to her mother a thousand times, hoping the King would choose someone else, anyone else.

The Queen let out a sigh. "No."

The girl nods in slow disbelief, the realization of her words dawning over her.

"I am truly sorry, Reyna," Alicent means every word that leaves her, a feeling she has not recalled since her days in the godswood with Rhaenyra, "I did not mean for this to happen."

The bastard girl wipes her cheeks and straightens her back, "It's quite alright, Your Grace."

The words are practiced, near recited as she forces herself up out of the chair and into a small curtsy, "I suppose I better head to Queen Helaena's chambers to dress her and her children for bed."

Alicent sweeps the girl into her arms without a second thought and for a brief moment she imagines Helaena in her place, a comfort the girl refuses even on her worst days.

Some days, Alicent believes Helaena prefers the company of her husband to her mother.

She tries to avoid the tightening in her chest on those days.

But Reyna sinks into the embrace, arms grasping tightly to each other across Alicent's shoulders.

"Thank you."

Something primal stirs in her stomach.

She tears herself free and grabs the girl's shoulders, just as her father did before he'd been sent back to Oldtown for telling the truth.

Prepare Aegon to rule or cleave to Rhaenyra for mercy .

Reyna is not nearly as weepy,

Alicent does not think she had seen the girl shed a tear since the night at the Dragonpit.

"Listen to me, he will not touch you, understand?"

The girl's brow furrows.

It only strengthens Alicent's resolve.

She brushes a spindle of hair away from Reyna's collarbone, gently placing her hand on the girl's shoulder.

Alicent swallows down the bile forming in the back of her throat when she realizes her father did the same thing to her the day of Aemma's funeral.

"He is the King," is all the girl says in response.

Alicent's heart breaks.

But you are not his, she wants to say, even though she knows the words will ring hollow.

Because she is his.

She became his the moment he raised a sword to her, threatening to kill her if she left.

And he became hers the moment her plea for mercy left her lips.

The influence of a whore is a powerful thing , her father had told her the night Daemon stole an egg from the Dragonpit. For it is man alone who is guided by his lesser impulses, subject to the mewling cunts of women rather than the sane minds of those around him.

He'd later apologized for the vulgar language, but maintained the truth of the statement.

"Do you know the price for being the King's favorite?"

Reyna nods, gulping down her fear with a steel jaw. Alicent spies a glimpse of resilience she wishes she still had.

But the years had worn her down, and taken all her strength with it.

All that remained was her rage and her spite and her faith.

"Good. That is why I will make you the Queen's."

Confusion laced her brow.

Alicent pressed on.

"Your duties will switch every day between me and Helaena. It will be taxing, but it will remove you from his sight. And I have faith you will fulfill every expectation."

Silence stood between the two women.

For a brief moment Alicent thought she saw a glimpse of relief cross the girl's face.

"I'm honored, Your Grace." Reyna dips her feet into a curtsy, stepping out of Alicent's grip. Her shoulders are red when she steps free.

Alicent forces herself to inhale slowly but surely.

She is not confident her moves will be enough to deter Aegon's advances but it is better for both him and the realm if Reyna disappears into the shadows.

Let her return to her life before catching the eye of the King.

Let her remain who she is before the world warps her beyond recognition.

"Return home and pack your things. You will be moving into new chambers on the morrow."

Reyna dips her head and moves toward the door.

Alicent blinks free of the trance she's been locked in since she arrived.

"And Reyna..."

Her voice is commanding, stopping the girl in her tracks and forcing her to turn back to the Queen.

Her breath catches and she swears she sees her younger self stare back at her.

"I expect you here, ready to dress me and Helaena before we break fast. Understood?"

The girl bobbed her head and disappeared from view.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✵ ⋆⁺₊⋆

SHE FELL INTO HER OLD ROUTINE quicker than expected, waking before sunup to answer the chime of the bells dressed in the green of her livery.

Reyna tied the segmented sleeves shut and slid the bodice over her chemise with ease, braiding her hair back with the blue ribbon she'd stolen from Ivy's shop before it was boarded up and sold along with the rest of her fabrics.

Reyna and Lacey had taken what they could carry, stuffing skirts and velvets and bodices into bags with needle and thread to make themselves. The ribbon had been one Ivy wore in her hair often, typically tying her braids off with it to keep them from unraveling.

Now Reyna wore it in her own.

A sore replacement for her lost friend, but a comfort nonetheless.

She'd been given new dresses befitting her station as the Queen's handmaiden, hemming the green skirts until they reached her ankles. It provided her more mobility when she moved between Alicent's chambers and Helaena's.

She learned quickly that while Queen Alicent preferred the later hours of the day, Helaena was up with the sun, often choosing to ride Dreamfyre before breaking her fast with the rest of her family.

"You're back!" The Targaryen girl had engulfed Reyna in a hug when she'd returned to dress her the morning following her confrontation with the Prince, eyeing every corner for a glimpse of silver hair and rubies accompanying it.

Helaena, she'd learned, preferred familiar faces over unusual ones, and since the coronation, all of her previous maids had disappeared.

"Mother says Lord Larys is behind the new change," Helaena had explained, rocking back and forth on her feet as Reyna moved to dress her for the day, "Whispers of treachery and betrayal in the keep."

The Targaryen girl was smarter than most people gave her credit for, many of the servants believing she had inherited the madness of the dragon, but the simple truth was Helaena preferred to observe. Keeping to herself rather than drawing attention.

Most of the Targaryens preferred that, Reyna had learned.

The only one who truly loved any attention showered upon them was Aegon and Rhaenyra.

She could still feel the kiss of steel against her skin.

Helaena slipped into the light blue silk Reyna had prepared for her, nightgown abandoned on the bed.

The Queen had no shortage of split skirts to slide trousers underneath for when she wished to ride her dragon, but she always preferred the lighter blue ones that could double as a true gown when she wished.

"It is simply more practical," She'd said when Reyna asked, "The breeches are constricting, but I'm not about to make you wash three different petticoats when I go riding."

Besides, all Reyna had to do was ensure a patterned skirt and her garters and stockings were ready when she returned, which Helaena assured her she could put on herself.

The Queen didn't like it when her servants touched her legs or stomach.

Neither Queen did.

The bodice of the riding habit resembled a gown she'd seen the Targaryen wear many times, with bejeweled dragonflies fastening the silks across her chest. The layered brocade reminded Reyna of the fabric she'd stolen from Ivy's shop, and tears threatened to spring to her eyes as a memory came forward.

"You truly mean to make your own wedding dress?" Reyna had said, staring in awe of the Myrish lace and Pentoshi silks Ivy's mother had imported from Essos.

Lacey was holding the fabric up against the fogged up looking glass, only putting the garments down when Ivy smacked her hand away from the dress frame.

"It will be more practical," Ivy spoke with pins in her mouth, laying the fabric on the frame to try and figure out which pattern she wished to use. Reyna could see the wheels in her friend's brain begin to turn, hair pulled out of her face with the blue ribbon she always wore. "Besides," She said with a wry smile, finally pinning the lace in a way she was happy with, "I know what I like, and I know it will be high enough quality for me."

Reyna shook her head, always in awe of Ivy's ability to make the best of her situation. It was an envy she felt often.

Her and Lacey shared a look.

"And it means I can make your dresses if either of you get married."

"Then I demand you use these silks," Lacey teased, grasping the leftover fabric and wrapping it around her body, "For I plan to marry a wealthy Pentoshi Magister and live my days forever on the coast."

Laughter pierced the air and Ivy shook her head.

"Then Alize can finally use her brother's boat to ship you two out of this shithole."

The girls chuckled at the whore's words, but Reyna knew there was truth to it.

"I think Alize will be too busy in Braavos," Reyna interjected with a wry smile, "Wasn't there a Sealord who had his eye on her?"

Girlish giggles left the manse, people on the street turning to face the noise as it floated through the air.

"Then I shall have to make her one too." Ivy's smile widened and she began to sort through fabric, pulling out dark blues and purple velvets, "The wealth of Braavos is not to be taken lightly after all. She will need to be dressed richly to stand out among those dressed brighter than her."

"Oooh, yes," Lacey's eyes glittered as she caught sight of the rich fabrics, slipping through her fingers like gold dragons, "Alize will wed a Sealord, I will wed a Magister, you your Blacksmith, and Reyna–"

"Will be living as a wealthy merchant in Myr," Reyna wrapped a shawl of teal Myrish silk around her shoulders, flicking the excess behind her like a cape, "Where men will beg and plead for my hand, but I shall only give it to one who can make me laugh."

"Well that won't be too hard," Ivy tossed an embroidery hoop at her head.

Reyna dodged it with the grace of a water dancer, a scoff of mock indignation on her lips.

The girls' eyes shone with mirth.

Lacey placed a crown of Myrish lace in Reyna's hair, "It is said the Prince of Myr has a better sense of humor than most."

She tore the crown from her head, "Oh please–"

"Our Reyna?" Ivy placed a hand to her chest, eyes wide with teasing laughter on her lips, "Royalty? My apologies Your Highness," the Northern girl bowed deeply, her ribbon falling to the floor. "I suppose I shall have to dress you in gauze and satins fit for a Queen."

"Oh, no that won't do," Lacey plucked bright reds and pinks from the bin. Reyna rolled her eyes as the girls began to hang the fabrics on her body, "A Princess deserves organza and taffeta, with a gold chiffon layer to tie it all together."

"This Princess would tear all those to shreds," Reyna shook her head, but something bloomed in her chest at the thought. She'd never believed herself lucky enough to marry, but Lacey and Ivy's jokes almost made her long for it. Besides, it wasn't as if she didn't know how beautiful she was.

It was almost a joke between the four of them at this point.

"So, what do we have?" Lacey's smile grew wide, "A Sealord, a Magister, a Prince and a Blacksmith. I believe we have done very well for ourselves."

The girls erupted into giggles and the memory faded into inky blackness.

"Are you alright?" Helaena's voice was floaty as it echoed through her thoughts, a glimpse of concern in the girl's lavender eyes.

Reyna brought herself back to the present, and she thought it ironic Helaena was the one bringing her out of the clouds rather than the other way around.
"Sorry, Your Grace–" Her gaze dipped to the ground.

"--Helaena." Once again the Queen lets herself overcome her fear of touch to grasp Reyna's hand in her own, an earnest look in her bright eyes. "You have certainly known me long enough to call me such things."

Blood rushed to her cheeks, trying to ignore the jittering in her stomach at the informality of it all.

"Helaena," Reyna sighed, leaning into the softness of the Targaryen's hands, a sense of calm rushing through her. "I'm afraid I was lost in thought, I apologize."

"I understand," She smiled softly, "You have lost someone close to you, it cannot be easy to return to life how it was. When father died–"

The door creaked open and Reyna dropped her hands to her skirts, interrupting whatever the Princess was going to say next.

A tall figure in black leathers strode into the room.

"Aemond!" Helaena smiled as her younger brother entered the room, Reyna thought she saw the prince's lips tilt up as well, "There you are, I was beginning to worry you had forgotten about our flights."

"Never, sweet sister," Prince Aemond responded in kind, his voice as always, affectless. Although sometimes she could hear the slightest bit of affection when he talked to Helaena. It was small, but it was there nonetheless. "Vhagar would grow lonely without Dreamfyre for company," He grasped his sister's hands in his own, pressing his lips to the back of them, "And so would I."

Helaena didn't flinch at the sudden gesture, nor pull away like she did with anybody else. Instead her smile grew wider and her eyes shone.

"Did you hear?" Helaena stepped closer to her brother, as if sharing a secret only the two of them possessed, "Reyna has returned to the Red Keep. Mother said it was all Aegon's idea."

Aemond bristled at the mention of his brother, sharp gaze landing on her with a tilt of his head, "Did she?" He hummed. Reyna felt as if she were a horse being inspected for market, "I had heard mother hired back some of our old staff, but I didn't know our dear brother was involved in it."

It was either this or the sword, Reyna's practiced restraint was the only thing keeping her mouth shut.

She'd tried in vain to forget about the blade of Valyrian steel pressed against her neck, but she saw it every time she closed her eyes. Every time a head of silver hair marched through the hallways, dressed in green and flanked by a group of eldest sons.

Most of whom Lacey had been visited by at some point or another.

"It was the King's command," Reyna forces a smile on her face, picking up Helaena's gown and robe to be washed and mended later in the day.

"Hmm," Aemond's eye continued to remain focused on her.

The King's brother was the most unreadable of the Targaryen children, his lack of an eye making it difficult to see past him inside his head. Everything Reyna knew was surface level, hidden under a layer of dark shadow not even Helaena's light seemed able to penetrate.

She always tried to give the younger Prince a wide berth whenever he's around.

Aemond never tore his gaze off her, a smirk decorating his lips.

Until Helaena pointed out they were already a few minutes behind schedule, and Dreamfyre was terribly temperamental when it came to sudden changes in routine.

As was Vhagar, it seemed, because Aemond didn't say another word to her as he escorted his sister out of the Red Keep, black and blue walking side by side.

Reyna allowed herself to breathe and began to prepare for when Helaena returned.

These past four years in the Red Keep had taught her a manner of things, specifically how particular both Queens were.

Helaena's bath always had to be piping hot, sprinkled with lavender and lemongrass. The same scent as her soaps and lotions.

In fact, Reyna could practically recite the list of the Queen's preferences from memory if asked.

She preferred blues and yellows to greens and reds.

Gold to silver.

Lose hair to tightened braids.

Silks vs velvets.

Front fastens instead of back laces.

Layered necklines over deep ones.

Reyna knew each and every habit of the Princess turned Queen, which is why she suspected Helaena had been so happy to see her when she returned. The change in staff meant having to learn it all over again, with mistakes made and Helaena drawing inward when they were.

The princess never snapped, nor appeared angry, but the tightness of her lips and the frigid posture said all that needed to be said.

The servants were usually sent away with a curt "thank you" as Helaena took it upon herself to correct the mistakes made.

Thankfully, Dreia and Tansy seemed to have been kept on as well, which meant Reyna wasn't the only one with intricate knowledge of the Queen's preferences.

The Dowager Queen, however, was a different matter entirely.

Talya was nowhere to be found, which meant Reyna was the highest ranking handmaiden in her household, a thought that both terrified and thrilled her.

Her knowledge of Queen Alicent was much less expansive, although she'd shadowed Talya a few times before she was dismissed.

Green was the favored color, every servant in the castle knew that much, but her movements, her routine, it changed often. One day she would prefer silver to gold. Others a low neckline to her higher ones.

Some days she preferred to dress more in the style of her homeland, with tight waists and bell sleeves. Others, she preferred the elongated silhouettes and draped layers of Westeros.

It made it difficult to wait on her, although Reyna was slowly learning the ropes.

The Dowager Queen always took a bath the moment she woke up, which meant Reyna always drew hers before Helaena's, giving the water plenty of time to cool to a lukewarm temperature.

Roses and lilies were her scents of choice, a far cry from her daughters.

But today was one of the days where Queen Alicent's routine had changed.

None of her servants were to be found, but seeing as Lord Larys was currently overseeing staff changes, Reyna didn't think too much of it.

She'd simply draw the bath herself.

The washroom was empty when she entered, warming the water by the fire as she prepped the soaps and lotions for the Queen. Reyna bent down to grab the water when she heard it.

A soft moan hanging in the air.

Reyna was used to sounds of pleasure. One could hardly grow up in King's Landing or Dorne without it.

But she'd never heard of the Queen partaking in such things.

Many of the servants liked to joke she was saving herself for one of the gods.

But it was there.

Unmistakable.

Curiosity tugged at her stomach, drawing her further into the room, hiding behind the screen Queen Alicent used to dress.

She was short enough to use the whole screen as cover, the two figures in her gaze growing more defined.

One was certainly the Queen, with her long auburn curls bouncing up and down. She leaned against one of the posters of her bed, moaning faster and harder as the second dug his head further between her legs.

The head of hair that came up to kiss the Queen was dark and curled at the man's shoulders.

The two turned and Reyna gasped as she caught sight of his profile.

"Stop," Queen Alicent whispered, suddenly tense.

The two figures turned to face the direction of the screen.

"Stay here, Your Grace." The husky tones of Ser Criston confirmed Reyna's suspicions.

The pitcher of water slipped from her hands and she ran.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✵ ⋆⁺₊⋆

AEGON WAS GROWING TIRED of his grandfather's constant meddling.

He thought once he was King, the man would finally let him be, but no. Instead he felt the desire to criticize every decision, every thought he voiced.

It was bad enough when it happened in the small council, but in front of the very people who'd been witness to his coronation? In front of the people who smiled when he gave into their requests, who thanked him and fell at his feet for granting clemency?

It made him look weak.

Like his father.

Pliable, malleable, easily convinced.

He would ensure the people did not view him as such. He needed a title, something easy to remember and quick to say.

Martyn Reyne had been quick to offer his services. The red lion was quick to do anything he could for Aegon, which some days was more a nuisance than a blessing.

He was glad to be rid of them, for all he wanted now was a trip to the Dragonpit.

Aemond and Helaena had snuck out just after dawn, but Aegon was once again forced to attend to matters he had not been prepared for.

Sending missives to Storm's End and the Vale and the North. All in the hope of bolstering a claim he never should have had.

A claim he never wanted.

He'd finally picked out the rest of his Kingsguard, choosing Eddard's brother Marston Waters and a hedge knight from the Reach known as Ren Flowers.

Allegedly he was a bastard of Bitterbridge, the Lady Caswell finding comfort in the arms of a Yi-Ti spice merchant after her first husband's death in the Stepstones.

Her second now hung from the walls of the Red Keep, a reminder of the cost of swearing allegiance to his half-sister.

His grandfather had chastised him in front of the Kingsguard as well, telling him it was bad form to name so many bastards to such high positions.

"No one knows how to fight better and harder than a bastard," Aegon spoke sharply, recalling how many times Eddard had pummeled him and Martyn into the dirt, "When the time for war comes I will need men who aren't beholden to their honor. Men who know what must be done to win."

"Your Grace," His grandfather always said his title with such disdain, "Passing over legitimate sons for the whelps of their mothers...it does not help your cause. It emboldens those with no claim, those who believe they can usurp the rightful heirs."

Aegon turned to his grandfather with an arched brow.

Ser Otto went silent. A rarity Aegon welcomed.

The days where his mother and grandfather were silent were days Aegon felt like himself again.

Instead of pushing and pulling and begging him to take one road over the other.

He buried his nails into his skin at the thought of the last time he'd seen his mother.

He never apologized, but he came crawling to her once he'd come to his senses, claiming the madness of drink had overtaken him.

She'd simply looked at him and informed him she'd done as he asked.

It was the closest the two would ever get to forgiveness.

"My nephews are welcome to take the white cloak," Aegon snapped at Otto with a wry smile, "It's the highest position bastards like them will ever hold."

"Your Grace–"

"In fact," Aegon turned to the Grand Maester, smirk growing wider, "Put it in the terms as well, surely they would jump at such an opportunity."

He said nothing more as he strode away from the inner courtyard, leaving his grandfather to plan the investiture of his new knights.

There was a part of him that relished in the way his choice would get back to Rhaenyra and her sons, a cruel jape that would tempt them to finally fly off that damned rock.

Bastards in white mocking the bastards in black.

He let out a giggle as he rushed down the steps connecting Maegor's Holdfast to the rest of the Red Keep.

He'd barely taken a step forward when someone ran into him.

Aegon grasped tightly to the figure that accosted him, ready to punish them for being so careless until he caught sight of the ebony hair and violet eyes that haunted him.

"Your Grace," Reyna bowed her head in deference, panting like she'd just ran a league.

Aegon's brow furrowed.

The girl's golden complexion had gone paler than the whitestone tower but her skin was warm under his touch.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost."
Her breathing was heavy, chest moving up and down as she struggled to find the words. It was rather fascinating really, how easily flustered she became.

His lips twitched upward.

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace, I didn't see where I was going," She brushed away a curl which had fallen free from her braid, tied back with a ribbon he could easily reach.

It made him want to pull it free and grasp the curls in his hands.

He wondered what her reaction would be.

Would she kick and scream as he tilted her chin up to face him, or would a look of pleasure cross her face, a moan following after?

His cock stirred between his legs at the thought.

Reyna stared at the hallway behind her. It led to the Tower of the Hand, where his mother now resided. From the look on her face, she had just been witness to something scandalizing.

Or perhaps she'd had the displeasure of running into Ser Otto.

He did have quite the ability to turn even the most steel-willed servants into a whimpering mess if they caught him on a bad day.

And Aegon had made it his mission to give his grandfather as many bad days as possible.

It was his own pride and ambition which had put Aegon on the throne, so he would make the man pay for it.

Besides, it's not like Ser Otto was doing anything worthwhile these days. It provided a little more excitement in the Red Keep as they waited to hear back from Storm's End.

But if his grandfather was the reason Reyna shook the way she did now, then Aegon simply had more motivation to make his Hand's life miserable.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, I must be going."

Aegon stepped in front of her path, smirking.

He watched as the fear left the handmaiden as quickly as it had come, a familiar expression crossing the Dornishwoman's face.

His smirk grew into a smile then, the handmaiden glaring at him as she crossed her arms.

She was weary of him, but Aegon was just getting started.

"Does His Grace plan to pull another knife on me?"

The bite in her words surprised him, but he found it stimulating.

"Not that particular one," His words made her blush and his heart skipped in his chest.

It felt good to laugh again. It felt good to have someone who made him laugh again.

Jace and Luke always laughed at his jokes, even egged him on when he was too afraid to say them aloud. It had been their idea to come up with the Pink Dread, but Aegon's to deliver it in the Dragonpit.

He winced at the memory, recalling Aemond's crestfallen expression and violent outbursts following the incident.

He still carried a scar on the back of his shoulder.

His hand flexed near the hilt of the Valyrian steel dagger.

The only remnant of the love his father supposedly bore for him.

It was a poor decision to hold her beneath it, but he had no other choice. He'd called her there to bed her, but once she started speaking he found himself hypnotized by her lips and the words that left it.

He simply couldn't let her leave.

Not when she made him feel...like that.

You're not miserable. Not yet.

"I'm jesting," He saved with a smile, hands lifted up in surrender. Her gaze softens. Pleasure fills his chest. "Come, I have something to show you."

"Your Grace–"

"--Demands that you come with him at once," Aegon finished for her, earning him a scoff and an arched brow.

Reyna shook her head, a quiet defiance in her gaze as she did so. He found it deliciously irritating.

He supposed she thought of him the same way.

The outspoken serving girl who'd pushed him away in the alleys of Flea Bottom was in there somewhere. It may have been buried underneath the rubble of the Dragonpit with her friend, but Aegon was determined to bring it to light again.

And he knew just the way to do it.

"I have duties to fulfill, your mother–"

"My mother has plenty of handmaids," He waved her concerns away, her plump lips scowling at his words. "Your King has need of you now."

She eyed him, gaze drifting between his legs before moving back up to his face.

He tilted his head with a teasing smirk.

The edges of her lips tilt up into a smile, "How many other serving girls have you made that proposition to?"

The laugh that leaves him is something he hasn't felt in years.

"A few," He leans in, "But you're the only one that matters."

Her eyebrows raise and he knows she can see right through him.

"And I gather you've said that to how many ladies over the last year?."

His stomach flutters at her words, biting down on his lip as he drank in her figure.

It had been a long time since he found someone to verbally spar with.

These days it was either anger or genuine frustration, the last person to truly entertain his jests had been his nephews, who could never take as good as they could give.

"No ladies, but maidservants are easy to please."

An incredulous laugh left her lips and Aegon smiled.

"Are we?" She tipped her chin up at him, a glimpse of that outspoken girl appearing under the grief-stricken mask she wore.

He wished to see more of it.

His smirk widened into a full smile, "Only when it comes to matters like these."

His echo of her words makes her laugh, a small thing that sends his heart skipping again.

Aegon couldn't resist closing the space between the two of them, breath hot against her ear as he asked, "Have you ever ridden a dragon?"

The look on her face was almost enough to make him burst into genuine laughter.