Sworn Fate // Aegon Targaryen II

Chapter 7

"You're right. Why do we insist on living in such dismal places? We're royalty, after all."

Aerion chuckled softly. "Probably for the same reason Aegon decided to make a throne out of a bunch of melted swords. He wanted Targaryen rulers to be strong."

"I'm hardly a Targaryen ruler though," Aegon said crossly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Seven save us if you ever become king," Aerion laughed as they carefully made their way down the stone stairs carved into the side of one of the cliffs that led up to High Tide.

"On that we can agree. I certainly wasn't made to rule."

Aerion pointedly ignored the slight darkness in Aegon's expression as he uttered those words. He knew the Hightowers were scheming, but that was all it would ever be.

They walked together in silence, hand in hand, along the shore. Besides the sound of the waves, the island of Driftmark was eerily quiet. If Aerion hadn't known better, he would have felt like he and Aegon were the last people left in the world.

After climbing down from one of the taller sand dunes, they finally reached the cove Aegon had seen from above. It was a small inlet surrounded on both sides by cliffs that jutted out into the ocean. The sand underneath their feet shone silver in the moonlight and the ocean was glittery with starlight.

"What is it that you wanted to tell me?" Aerion asked, curiosity finally getting the best of him.

Aegon let go of his hand and stepped away, suddenly looking nervous. "I have...a suggestion?"

"Okay?" Aerion asked, confused by Aegon's sudden hesitance. It wasn't like there was anything Aegon couldn't confide in him.

"I want to suggest a betrothal," Aegon said quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth so fast that Aerion hardly understood them.

"Excuse me?" Aerion asked. That was the last thing he expected Aegon to say and he was surprised by the sudden anger that rose up in him at the idea.

Seeing the venom in his eyes, Aegon paled, attempting to backtrack, "Well I...you know..."

"No, I don't," Aerion hissed. "I have no interest in whatever whore you want to betroth yourself to." He knew the words were too harsh. Even as he said them, he knew it. But he didn't regret them. All he could think about was Aegon leaving his side to marry some stupid woman who could never love him as deeply as Aerion could.

Aegon paused at his words before quickly shaking his head. "You misunderstand. I want a betrothal between you and me."

Aerion stared. As much as the idea of Aegon getting betrothed to anyone else angered him, he couldn't process the idea of a betrothal between the two of them. "Aegon...that's impossible."

The words were almost painful. He'd never considered it before, but now that Aegon had put forth the idea, Aerion was almost delirious with how much he wanted it.

"Why?"

"Because..." he didn't know why Aegon was forcing him to explain. He was as well aware of the reasons it was impossible as he was. "We can't have heirs."

Aegon waved his hand dismissively. "There are more than enough Targaryens running around. You have three brothers, I have three siblings, and Daemon has the twins. Who is relying on us to produce heirs? When it's time for you to pass the Driftwood throne, pick whichever niece or nephew you think is most suited for it."

"Two male Targaryens have never been betrothed before. It's forbidden in the Seven-Pointed Star," Aerion pointed out. He couldn't let himself hope for something this impossible. If he allowed himself to believe it only for it to get ripped away, it would destroy him.