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Auntie Dany & Prince Eggy
From the cutting board of an old story, as promised for @spookyscaryfox:
“Can I interest you in a mimosa, Auntie? A jay, perhaps?”
Princess Daenerys turns away from the white clouds rippling beneath the plane wing like a banner in the wind to eye her nephew warily. He’s the last person she wants to be trapped on a plane with right now, but Elia wanted them to return from their respective international trips together.
From Volantis to Pentos, Daenerys appreciated blessed silence as her traveling staff gave her the space to process her loss privately before having to do so in public.
Then, after an hour-long wait on a Pentoshi airfield, Aegon arrived.
“We aren’t going to brunch, Eggy; my mother is dead. And you’re not smoking on my plane.”
“You’re right. Grandmother did love a good vodka tonic,” he says, retrieving a small plastic baggy full of gummy bears from a vintage leather duffle bag monogrammed with a stately “A.T. VI” before pressing the intercom. “We’d like two vodka tonics, please.”
“You carry your drugs in a monogrammed bag?”
He blinks at her with eyes like Rhaegar’s—deep indigo opposed to the light violet of her own—with none of his seriousness. “What? They’re only illegal in Westeros.”
Maybe vodka isn’t a bad idea.
“How old were you when Grandmother let you have your first tonic?” Aegon asks, looking wistfully at the clear liquid in his glass.
Dany smiles, remembering her mother’s summons in the wee hours after her fifteenth birthday party. It was a bit of a tradition in the family that when she summoned you to the Queen’s personal sitting room for a drink, she thought of you as an adult.
“So,” her mother said in her gentle voice. “Tell me what you want to do with your life, my dear.”
To go to college—away from Westeros. To see the world and learn about life outside of palaces and stuffy old traditions. To contribute more to the world than smiling and hugging children for photo opportunities.
She’d managed all of the above, with her mother’s ardent support every step of the way. Through six years at Sealord’s College in Braavos where she earned dual undergraduate degrees in international studies and economics, then a postgraduate degree in human rights. “Diplomacy” missions across Essos and as far east as Asshai while she raised funds to start The Mhysa Foundation, which advocated against labor-related human rights abuses all over the world. Her fervent lobbying against archaic labor laws in Astapor, Yuncai, Meereen, and Volantis that were little more than thinly-veiled slavery.
And on the rare occasion Daenerys ended up in the tabloids for one silly thing or another (namely her weakness for the private company of tattooed Essosi futbol players), Rhaella never reprimanded her, even when Rhaegar and Elia expressed disapproval.
Gods, she missed her mother so much already.
“Fifteen,” she finally answered Aegon. “You were a bit older, right?”
Aegon nodded. “Nineteen. Not everyone was as wise beyond their years as you were, Auntie. Though,” he shrugs. “It could have been worse. I don’t think she had a drink with Uncle Viserys until he was twenty-one.”
That was certainly on-brand for her middle brother. “Do you remember what she said to you?”
Her nephew cleared his throat and did his best impersonation of Rhaella’s prim, melodic voice. “‘You come from the stock of rulers and rogues, on both sides. Gods be good, you’ll be neither.’” Casting a look at the red-haired Royal Guardsman seated with the rest of the detail near the back of the plane, he smiles a wicked grin. “She was right. I much prefer to take after the women in my family.”
Careful not to stare too hard at the older gentleman—Connington, if she’s not mistaken—Dany rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Aegon. He’s your father’s age.”
Aegon motions for a refill. “That’s the point, Auntie. Don’t tell me you’ve never indulged in a little ‘daddy’ play? That enforcer from the Dothraki futbol team looked like the type.”
Ordinarily, she’d indulge his need to dish; especially since it seems like he wants a distraction from his grief. But she’s in no mood to discuss her exes, least of all the one whose “sun and stars” tattoo she only recently removed from her hip bone.
“How long has this been going on?” If the man had touched her nephew when he was underage, she’d personally have him gelded.
“Before you start breathing fire,” Aegon held up his hand. “It’s only been since my twenty-third birthday. And I seduced him.”
“If Rhaegar ever finds out…”
For the first time since he boarded the plane, Dany sees darkness cloud his carefree expression. “His precious heir has just given him adorable twin grandchildren. And he has a throne to ascend. Who shares my bed is the least of Father’s concerns.”
Unfortunately, with Rhaegar and Elia on the throne, Dany has a feeling that the dating lives of all the unmarried Targaryens are about to be at the top of the list of the crown’s concerns.
"I’m going to try to get some rest. There’s a proper mourning suit for you to change into before we land. A preview from Prada’s spring line.”
With a smile, Aegon rises from his seat. “Princess Daenerys, Holder of Degrees, Khaleesi of Essosi Futbol Cocks, Mhysa of the Downtrodden, Procurer of Fine Fabrics for Her Favorite Nephew. Long may you reign.”
“You’re only my favorite until little Baelon is old enough to have a Vodka tonic with his Great-Aunt.”
Flipping her the bird, he retreats to one of the suites, leaving Dany once more in blessed silence.
____
A/N: I forgot how observant Aegon is on the low. Him saying he "takes after the women" in his family messing around with his bodyguard meant that he knew about Rhaella/Barristan and Elia/Arthur. lol