Chapter Text
It is only when Uncle Baelor wipes away his tears with his thumb and tells Valarr to not let him out of his sight till he returns that it occurs to Egg that he doesn't quite remember how he got that gash on his leg.
All but one candle - the one next to his bed - are already blown out by the time Egg finally crawls under the heavy blankets, already wishing for tomorrow to arrive sooner than it's supposed to.
It's not fair, that he isn't allowed to stay up till cousin Valarr and Uncle Baelor arrive, especially considering that cousin Matarys wasn't coming. He promised his septa that he'd go to bed right after catching a glimpse of them, but she had only frowned in the way which meant he was one sentence away from having his father informed of his actions. He'd almost felt tempted to argue back, but then Daeron had swooped in, placating him with talks of how sleep really only felt like a blink, and not the long hours of the night.
Septa Lina had only pressed her lips together before taking him to his bedroom, informing him that she was needed elsewhere, but he'd better be asleep by the time she came to check on him.
Sleep comes quickly to him, as it always has.
He's unsure of how long he's slept for when he feels something, no, someone, stand right next to him. He doesn't even know why he woke up, and immediately diverts his attentions from who he can only assume is Lina to going back to bed and hides his face in his pillow.
Suddenly, the comforting weight of the blanket is gone, and his eyes snap open and land on the glint of a blade.
"Finally." The voice sounds gleeful in a way that sends a shiver up Egg's spine. "I thought you'd never wake up, you little brat."
His brother peers at him like he's a curiosity, gnawing on his lower lip. He looks over him, as though inspecting him. Egg takes his eyes off the knife to look at Aerion. He looks like a monster, something meant to be drowned in the Narrow Seas. Instead he's standing next to his bed, with the sharpest blade Egg's ever seen gripped in his fingers.
"Ha-"
"Shut up." He mutters, still looking at him intently.
"You aren't half ugly, you know that?" A question that demands no answer, so Egg just blinks and prays that someone walks in. A bony, cruel hand grips his chin, twists his face, and then lets go. "I suppose you could take my cock, once you're a little older."
Before his brain can fully grasp what Aerion just said, the knife comes sliding between his legs. The silk sheets suddenly feel too smooth, tucked too tightly, so he clenches his fists around nothing, and tries not to show just how terrified he is. Of course, Aerion can't actually do anything, not without risking facing their father's ire.
"Father will-"
"-do nothing." Aerion replies. "He might not mind. You see, precious Aegon, our father has sired four sons, and two daughters. Assuming we use one for an alliance and the other to be bred by Daeron, there's nobody left of the dragon's blood left for me to take."
Egg breaths sharply, and for a second, his heartbeat's louder than the roar of a dragon.
"I could take your manhood." Aerion says, and it doesn't sound like a threat, or a cruel jab. It sounds like how his father and uncle discuss the affairs of the state. "Make you into a sister, and wed you. You wouldn't be able to bear my children, of course, but I suppose I could use your arse instead of a cunt."
He suddenly retracts the knife, and then looks at Egg once again, his head tilted.
"I suppose I'll just have to fuck you one of these nights to see if you're worth my blade." Aerion's already turning his back to him, and within moments, he's gone, the door closed behind him.
Egg waits for a moment, till he's sure Aerion can't hear him, and immediately proceeds to vomit all over the floor. His throat burns, muscles threatening to crush the pipe, and there's stuff coming out of his nose too, but he can't stop, no matter how hard he tries. His chest, his heart, they pound against each other, clash like a lance and a shield, and once he's done emptying the contents of his stomach, Egg stumbles out of bed, gripping at the edge of the bedside table to stand up. His legs feel shaky in a way not caused by fear, and manages to make his way to the door.
Weakly, he pushes a chair in front of the door, though he knows Aerion would burn down the door itself if it meant the freedom to torment him.
Sleep doesn't come to him, and he wishes he suffocates under the blanket. He's always loved the weight on top of him, but right now he wishes it was enough to crush him, to leave nothing of him for Aerion to ever touch.
He's not sure of time passing even, till he hears a faint voice and then the screech of the chair against the floor. A maid pops her head in, and immediately he sees the concern on her face.
"My Prince! You look unwell."
"I feel unwell." He croaks as she enters the room and immediately pauses at the sight of dried up bile and vomit on the floor.
"Your father was questioning your absence at breakfast…" She tells him, though it sounds more like she's murmuring. "I'll send a guard to get a maester while I clean this up."
"No, don't." He begs her, pushing himself against the bed to get into a semblance of sitting. It feels uncomfortable beyond senses, like he's wearing clothes made of bark and not the finest cloth in Westeros. "I'm not sick enough to disturb a maester. Don't tell anyone, just clean the floor! Tell father I slept too much."
And he can't let Aerion know about this. The more he knew about the effect he had on Egg, the more he'd try to get worse and worser reactions every time. He can't.
She pauses in her steps and turns back to look at him.
"My prince…"
"Consider this an order from your prince then." Egg says, drawing as much authority into his voice as he can, even though what he really wants is Aemon's arms wrapped around him and Daeron slumped next to him.
"As you wish." She bows, and then rushes out, and somehow, finally, Egg closes his eyes and doesn't see his brother's face gleefully staring at hi-
"Egg, wake up. It's past noon, we're about to have lunch outside."
His eyes snap open, and he jerks backwards.
Cousin Valarr looks at him with curious, mismatched eyes. He got them from his father, and Cousin Matarys got his height. Egg wonders what he and Aerion got from their father.
"Daerion told me that you don't have lessons today, but perhaps I was an idiot for assuming you'd want to spend that time with me instead of sleeping." Valarr grins, but that doesn't stick to his face for too long. His brows furrow, and he sniffs the air.
"Egg, why do I smell…"
He doesn't finish his sentence, and instead tugs the blanket off his lap, and Egg flinches again.
"Aegon, when did this happen?" Valarr sounds worried beyond his years, and Egg suddenly realises why his clothes have been feeling stiff and dry. "Why didn't you call for a maester? Does Uncle Maekar know?"
They've stuck to his skin with dry blood, and his bedsheet is marred with scarlet and maroon on the white. How did he not notice it? It's only now that he feels pain, after the wound's been pointed out to him.
"I…" He looks at his cousin, who's examining his legs to the best of his ability for damage, and the way he looks concerned for him. They meet twice, perhaps thrice a year. Egg lets go of himself, and lets himself be caught by Valarr. He's third in line to the throne, but more importantly, he knows the sort of person Aerion is. His chest tightens, as though bound with chains, and he can't hold it back.
"Aerion did this, last night. He said he would make me his sister and marry me."
Valarr reels, from both shock and disgust, and a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. "Does anyone know?"
"Only him and I." He replies weakly.
"Very well." Valarr looks at him, and then the door, as if Aerion would be standing right there. "Father was in his room when I left to come see you, and so I'll take you to him. He'll know what to do, and how to do it. And I doubt Aerion would poke around there, and we could have our own trusted maesters to look after you. Can you walk?"
"I think so. It doesn't hurt, and I didn't even know I got cut." Egg answers truthfully, and apparently that wasn't the right answer, for Valarr mutters something about apologies before rushing out of the room.
He returns a few minutes later, with his Uncle in tow. He's already got a frown on his face, and his eyes raise just a little when he spots the bloody mess Egg's sitting in.
"Valarr, get Maester Norrel. Urge him to maintain secrecy, and close the door behind you." Mismatched eyes meet his. "I need to exchange a few words with your cousin. Oh, and tell Maekar to stick back for a while. Make up some excuse to ensure Aerion does not get suspicious."
Valarr's gaze shifts from Egg to his father before he nods and leaves.
His uncle strides over to him and immediately takes a seat next to him. Egg suddenly realises he hasn't gotten up from his bed since yesterday night. He looks at his uncle, who wraps an arm around him.
"It will hurt, Aegon. When the Maester peels away the cloth from the wound, scabs will be torn, and that will tug on your flesh." He peers at the blood stains on the sheet, and though his face doesn't give it away, his eyes get grimmer. "Tell me about the events of yesternight, and do not leave anything out."
Egg starts off factually, but it's difficult to remain calm, especially now that someone's actually listening to him. Daeron hears him out, but he never listens. His sisters, he's not close enough to. Aemon hasn't been home in a long time.
And Father's busy, though never unkind. Even in his worst moods, he's never done anything more than raise his voice or use words not suited to Princes. A part of him feels guilty, for telling his uncle before his father, but Aerion's words echo in his head. Wasn't Aegon the Conqueror married to both his sisters? And father named him after the man, did he not?
By the time Valarr arrives with a different maester in tow, telling them that Maester Norrel was nowhere to be found, his hand is gripping his uncle's much larger hand, and his tears are being wiped away with his free one. When his uncle notices the maester, he runs a hand through his hair and gets off the bed, though Egg loathes to let go of his hand.
"Maester Lanlot, I'll leave Valarr here. I hope it doesn't disturb your concentration." He says in a way that sounds like an order, and then turns to Egg.
"I'll go and get your father, but this is a conversation you should be having with him. Neither I, nor Valarr will interrupt. We'll leave, but I'll have to discuss certain things with Maekar."
Egg feels stupid as his uncle nods at him and then leaves, because if all his uncle was going to do was go and get his father, then he might as well have gone to his father in the first place. He briefly wonders if his father will carry over a frown to the next day at getting Uncle Baelor and cousin Valarr involved, but the maester tells him to take deep breaths, and so Egg shuts his eyes, and tries to get the image of his father supervising Aerion's training out of his mind.