X// X // X

x// x // x

The way she can touch him, but he can't touch her

inspo. (Helaemond 01x10/02x08)

This is just perfect🧡😍

Hell is a place on earth with you | Helaegon

Pairing ❈ Aegon Targaryen & Helaena Targaryen

Word count ❈ 558

Info & Warnings ❈ Gen rating, married life, anxious Aegon II, soothing Helaena.

Read on Ao3

"Sorry, Hel. Tough day." His brows furrowed, followed by an apologetic sigh. "No, I shouldn't call you that." She tilted her head, catlike. Innocent, pale lilac eyes shone pearlescent. "Why not?" Or, Aegon isn't sure if the nickname he gave his wife is all that flattering.

Aegon had entered their bed chambers a jittering mess. It wasn't uncommon those days, as his political responsibilities rose and his poorly disciplined self struggled to keep up.

Refuge, in these trying moments, often took form in silent company. Familiar and unobtrusive, and so very comforting.

He paced through the room, picking a glass off a tray and a jar of mulled wine and filling it just enough to get him buzzing. A creature of habit and whims and pleasure, though his pacing in the room had yet to cease.

She lowered her embroidery and needle and watched him patiently, a little perplexed, like watching an ant struggle to walk through a broken stone path.

He noticed her careful eye at some point, his cheeks flushing as he stopped in his tracks and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, Hel. Tough day." His brows furrowed, followed by an apologetic sigh. "No, I shouldn't call you that."

She tilted her head, catlike. Innocent, pale lilac eyes shone pearlescent.

"Why not?"

He looked disgruntled, working his jaw as his gaze scanned the polished floor. Nervous habits of a serial fidgeter.

"Mother says it's not right." He laughed humourlessly, almost self-depricatingly. "I mean, why should I refer to my wife and sister in the same manner the septons refer to the place the wretched souls of sinners end up in." He shrugged, plopping down on their couch. He ran his forefinger and thumb over the stitching, his lips pressed thin. Had she not known him so well, she would have thought him in deep concentration. In reality, it stood much closer to that of sulking.

She hummed, fingering the needle in her hand as she took his words in.

"Before Aegon and his sisters conquered Westeros our traditions were considered sin." Aegon's rich violet eyes met her own, the blood of Old Valyria that bound them and made them stronger. "Our love was sin."

He stared back, disarmed. The furrow between his brows softened. His wound-up shoulders relaxed.

"Hell," she continued, voice softened, "might very well not mean much, in the grand scheme of things." Her cheeks pinkened. "And... It's the name you gave me."

His eyes were wide as he looked at her from afar, and yet she felt a magnetic pull that drew them together, urging them to meet in the middle. She wondered if he felt it, too, if the wonder in his eyes and the way his fingers flexed like a vice over the arm of the sofa were signs of his want.

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding minutely. "I suppose that's true. Thank you... Hel."

She smiled sweetly, eyes crinkling prettily at the corners.

"The children have gone to sleep. Shall we, too?”

He kept watching her attentively, his pouty lips on the edge of his wine glass. He took a swig of his drink, gaze never leaving her, and then stood up.

He stepped closer, careful not to step over her blankets and cushions and reached out to her, offering his hand in a way that was almost princely. He wasn't though, much to her great delight. With dark rings under his eyes, a clumsy gait and a softened body from lack of training, he looked more like her brother than whatever great status their family could have labelled him with.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

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