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Chapter Text

The screams could be heard from two floors below, the anger of the Queen not easily quenched. It was normal in a sense and yet if one were to pay attention the worst screaming match the Queen and her first born had gotten into as of yet.

As always it started with Aegon waking up after noon, hungover and indecent. Alicent chastising him from avoiding his responsibilities and him just telling her he didn't want them. It escalated quickly, his behaviour had not changed, and it would not change, not at the behest of his mother, his grandsire or even the King. Aegon was a volcano that ran with Valyrian blood, insatiable, explosive and uncontrollable. There was no room that could hold him for long enough and no activity besides drinking and sex that could hold his attention for long. Truth be told Alicent hadn't tried much either, the only tools at her disposal violence and anger, inherited and polished since her youth. But you can't tame a dragon with those, and so Aegon ended up tuning off the pain, getting used to it and relishing in it, for if it was the only attention he was going to get, he might as well feast on the crumbs.

Such was the relationship of the Queen with her firstborn. Hate and love intertwined so tightly it would be impossible to separate one from the other. Just like he had inherited her soft features he had also gotten her stubbornness, and she cursed him for it. Every conversation was a battle, every interaction a duel to the death. The urge to smack him until he was black and blue, to push him out of that damn window, was as strong as the one to hold him close and weep together for their doomed fate. Alicent had only felt once before a love as burning as this one and a rage as palpable, and she had been ready to kill the woman who brought those feelings up. So, truly, she could not be blamed for the words that finally escaped her mouth.

"You know what! Do whatever you want, I don't care anymore! Come and go as you please, fuck, drink and die if you want! Ruin yourself if you must! I give up on you!" 

One tear rolled down Aegon's reddened cheek, and she could not regret the words that spilled just yet.

" Then begone mother, and leave me be. " He pleaded, voice cracking. 

And so, she did, closing the door with force and promising to herself she would not check on him again that week.

In truth she lasted two days and by then him and Sunfyre were long gone. Those words would come back to haunt her as the days passed without news from the wayward prince.

Aegon stood there, gripping the sheets, the only barrier between him and his enraged mother. The door closed like a damnation. Rage bubbled to the surface, ideas deeply hidden surfaced only one thought prevalent. Repeating itself maddeningly. "She will regret it. And by then I’ll be so far away she won't ever see mee again."

The rage needed an outlet, the room was sparsely decorated and the bed already on the floor, a victim of a previous fight. He took the scissors and looked at himself in the mirror. White unruly hair over his chest, equally pale disposition and reddened violet eyes. A Targaryen prince. But he would not be that any longer, he would ruin himself if just to get back at his mother. The pieces of hair fell to the floor like snow until his ears showed and his neck felt oddly cold.

He stabbed his desk and screamed, it was not enough. It was then when his eyes landed on the wobbling ink pot. He poured some on his hand and rubbed it over his head, it would look ridiculous and yet he couldn’t stop until all his hair was as black as his hands. A pang of regret hit him then and he tried to wash with water. His hands looked greyish as did the stained skin from his skull, but his hair still looked dark. Contemplating the destruction, he allowed himself to breath for a moment, the impulse deep inside not quieting yet. The room felt oppressive and yet he knew going out would feel much of the same, there was no place in King's landing he could not see the Red Keep from, rising like a watchful and oppressive captor.

It had been decided before the hair, even before his mother closed the door. He was leaving, forever. The riding leathers were not hard to put on, a bit hotter now that Summer was starting. He got himself a bag and put some clothes, jewels and a bit of coin he had managed to stash. He probably would have to go to the vault and get his hands of more of the crown's treasure, no one really was counting it after it was deposited there thinking it the safest place in the seven kingdoms. With a final sneer at the door he went to the bathing chamber and pushed one of the carved spirals from the left wall, revealing one of the many passages strewn trough the keep. He knew some of them by heart, traversing them in the dark without a problem. It had taken him time to learn, time and mistakes. Once he had lost his way and his light and been lost in them for two days, he had learned after the feel of the walls, the crunch of his boots and the smells that littered them. There would be no one looking for him there if he lost his way again. 

He walked in silence until he felt the broken corner, an indication to advance forward and crouch trough the passageway that led to the royal vault. He put his ear against the slab and listened for voices of guards. Once sure there were none, he moved the slab and scampered inside, moving slowly and opening the nearest chest. Once his pouch was full of golden coins he scampered back into the hole, like the rats that walked freely through Fleabottom, thieves in their own turf. He closed the gap and crawled until the smell of sewer caught his nose turning left then right and right again he reached treasonous stairs with some steps missing. Once down and touching the flames etched into the porous stone he pushed, opening a door to the lower parts of the Keep to a side street near River Row. He closed his bag and tied a smudged handkerchief to his head, hopefully the stained hands and the black hair peeking would distract people from his eyes. These were not places he frequented and thus he would be less recognized than if he had emerged near the hook or closer to the Iron gate. Aegon limited himself at looking forward and to the ground as he ascended Muddy Way, walking faster uphill as he entered the Street of Sisters. Not that anyone paid him any mind besides shop keepers trying to sell their wares. 

He used one of the side doors to get into the pit, ordering one of the east cliff doors be opened for him and Sunfyre saddled. In the meantime, he asked the dragon keepers if his dragon had eaten recently, having half a mind to order them to give him a goat just in case. Their travel would be long and strenuous, better have him overfed now that come to regret it later. 

Once atop Sunfyre he hesitated again, did he have what it takes? Was he ready to leave and never return? The dread he felt with the thought of returning to the Keep and seeing that cursed Iron Throne again answer enough. 

"Soves!" he ordered. Sunfyre obeyed, glowing beneath the sun like a comet, of ice and fire soaring the skies unreachable by all. 

He directed them upwards towards the white clouds, better to be up in the sky, less chance to be spotted. He was aware how easy murmurs spread in the Crown Lands, and the last thing he needed was for his family to know where he had run away to. Not that they would care. 

Flying over the Blackwater he left himself ponder, perhaps he ought to have said goodbye to his siblings. He buried that feeling. They would not care he repeated himself. Helaena was barely aware of what was happening in the waking world and would probably be relieved she wouldn't have to marry him. Aemond, well, his little brother was a beast on its own. He probably would be happy Aegon disappeared so the throne would not be wasted on someone like the eldest, he had said as much the last time they had properly had a conversation if their loud discussion could even be called that. 

Dawn caught him flying over the Spears, soon Driftmark and Dragon Stone would come into view. Aegon dreaded it but he knew it would be best to land in one for the night. Dragon Stone was the chosen one, if bad came to worst he would be found out by his sister's men loyal to his father, and he would probably be sent on a ship back to the Keep. 

He landed on the northwest of the island, it was littered with caves Sunfyre could hide into, it would serve them for the night. His stomach grumbled and his throat felt parched, he hadn't brought food or water and he regretted it now more than ever. He dropped his bag near Sunfyre and felt the boldness of youth spread through his body. He had to thank his father and his obsession with Old Valyria, for it was him who insisted on making them learn ever beach, every hall and almost every fucking rock from the Targaryen’s first westerosy dwelling. So, he followed the coast until he found eroded steps carved into the stone, Elaena's stairs. They lead to the west side of the fortress, he followed it until he was face to face with the Postern, he kept close hand on the wall until his feet stopped crunching on black gravel and over smooth stone. He had found one of the servant's accesses, getting inside made his heartrate increase. The riding leather could pose a problem, of course Dragon Stone was way colder than King's Landing, thus it would not be as striking to see him in such. He kept to the shadows, going down some stairs, the kitchen usually was in the lower levels since it needed access to the animals they would later serve. 

The kitchens were dark, the embers emitting a soft glow that barely helped make up what was what. He helped himself to some ham and cheese, drinking without thought some leftover wine in a goblet. Once satiated he looked around finally finding a wineskin he filled with freshwater and some rag he used to wrap the rest of the cheese with, clipping both things to his belt. He would have kept investigating if the sound of light footsteps had not alerted him. He crouched at the far end of the kitchen covered by a table and a big box. 

Small laughs and whispered words made him tense, there were two children sneaking into the kitchen, the girl he did not recognize, but the other voice was unmistakably Lucerys. His body tensed. He could get out of the shadows, take the knife and bring his brother that blasted eye he so wanted. Perhaps it would make Aemond finally snap out of it, that cloud of rage and self-pity that followed since the incident. Yet, Aegon knew deep inside he couldn't do it. Lucerys was a small child, he had never before showed any kind of violent inclination and in the throne room he had bled trough his broken nose, no doubt Aemond's doing. So, he stayed hidden and didn't even dare consider giving into the urge to just leap out of the shadows to just talk for a bit with his younger nephew, no matter how sweet and friendly Lucerys used to be whatever relationship the greens and the blacks had was irreparably broken. And no matter how much Aegon mourned it, he could never go back to those carefree days of gallivanting with his nephews and younger brother trough their home, causing mischief and stealing fruitcakes after their lessons. 

Once the voices disappeared so did, he, coming from where he had come from and managing to catch a few hours of sleep before the sunrise, curled between Sunfyres' leg and neck, mildly hidden by his wing. As light started to spread through the horizon Aegon looked at the stars for the lats time, he knew the way. He mounted Sunfyre and they left Westeros. 

As the sun rose the mainland disappeared behind them, leaving only ocean as far as the eye could see. The vastness made him dizzy, the sun his only guiding point. He had never been so alone. Was this what princess Aerea had felt when she sat atop Balerion on her way to Old Valyria? There was certainly something primitive, something otherworldly that rose from his spirit. It felt right. Him and Sunfyre against the world, lone explorers of ancient blood. Aegon finally found the feeling that had evaded him all his life, he was free, flying above the laws of men, gods in their own right. Only him and Sunfyre existed.

The flew all through the day and into the night. The stars guided him across the sea, the moon the only witness to his travels. It is true dragons could fly for weeks, Aegon could not. His legs ached and he was out of water. His spirit only lifted once he managed to see the illuminated city on the distance, Pentos, no doubt.  

Aegon squinted and saw a small mountain, it was rocky enough to dissuade people from leisurely strolling, so it was a good place to land and rest for the night. Sunrise woke him, the realization that he was in Essos finally hit him. He had never been so far away from home. Sunfyre opened a lazy eye probably exerted from the effort he had made him do in the past few days. He petted the dragon's head, embracing it until he could touch their foreheads together. 

"Sagon kesīr isse hāre vēzos " He ordered. (Be here in three suns)

The dragon keepers said dragons could only understand basic commands, but that only was for them. Dragons were highly intelligent creatures, and when bonded with a rider could understand their intent and Valyrian orders. He had no doubt Sunfyre would be here in three days’ time. For now, he would get down the mountain, explore the city and secure a bed for the next two nights. Aegon could hardly contain his giddiness. 

Pentos was absolutely brimming with life even at the early hours. Colourful signs and cloths adorned the streets, the air smelling of spices and citrus, unlike the putrid smell that permeated King’s landing. He had made sure to separate his gold in various pockets and bags as to not get all of it stolen if a thief was successful, at least he could thank Fleabottom that. And his mother said he didn’t do anything of use there, hah! The most wretched part of the city had made him a man in more ways than one, taught him the pleasures of the flesh as well as the insignificance of life, down there even a prince could get beat down and robbed down to the small clothes. And Aegon had surely flourished under its wretched hand.

First things first, he navigated the streets until he found one of the many houses of coin near the port, to acquire valid currency was a must if he wanted to have a good time here. He was expecting to be ripped off, his accent gave him right away, but he hoped he at least managed to bargain himself an acceptable deal. Once the golden coins adorned with towers littered his pockets, he went off to get some breakfast. For a moment and looking at the coins he couldn’t help but be reminded by another tower, one with a green flame. Hopefully it’s light would never touch Aegon again.

They were a fantastic three days, he ate great food, tried delicious liquors and met very interesting fellows in the taverns. Still Pentos was too close from Westeros to be a definitive place for him, it was no secret the master of whispers had ears and eyes even here. It pained him a lot, but it was time to decide where to go next. Lys or Bravos. The fickle flame from his only candle made the small room even smaller, a coin glinted in his hand. Tower for Lys, ship for Bravos, he threw the coin to the air, caught it with his right and put it over the back of his left hand. Tower. Lys it is.

After a plentiful breakfast he went to the market to buy some supplies before exiting the city. Climbing the rocky mountain was way more difficult than going down, but it was worth it, for on top of it was Sunfyre. He couldn’t help himself but coo at him and scratch the underside of his jaw, making the dragon move his hind leg in enjoyment. Once mounted he looked at the sun and the city, making sure they were going south. If all went well, they would arrive in Myr by the night. He hoped to spend a few days there as well without trouble, thanking his High Valyrian teachings for the help it would be in communication. After Myr he would go to Lys and hopefully stay there. If it didn’t work out, he could always try Volantis later.

They repeated their previous modus operandis, Sunfyre left for two nights to fly and eat and Aegon explored the free city. This time the coins were silver and depicted ships, the ambiance was certainly different, the many temples adorning the coast, domes and spires raising between the houses. The streets were lively as well, but it could not be compared to the cheery mood from Pentos, the sultry accent and ambiance indicating something forbidden hidden inside the city. Beautiful craftmanship laid on display at every corner, unlike the collared slaves that preferred to hide in the margins and remain as unnoticed as possible. It made Aegon’s skin crawl.

Lys was another story. He landed Sunfyre west of the island giving him the same command, he would survey the terrain and hopefully find somewhere to hide a dragon long term. That is how he spent the first day, finding caves and nooks, finally discovering a suitable dry cave made out of molten rock at the southwest. Once Lys had been paradise for Valyrians, so he was not surprised at the cave’s existence. He would have to keep in mind to get Sunfyre some meat soon, only the gods knew if the dragon had eaten at all during his roaming of the other two cities. Once the cave was located, he walked towards the tall towers, a two-hour trek was not ideal but also not very bad. Perhaps if he acquired a horse, he could reduce the time.

This time the coin was gold, with a naked woman in front and Aegon could see himself settling here. They spoke some bastardized kind of High Valyrian, and the people mostly had fair skin, purple eyes and blonde hair, so Aegon would not exactly stand out too much. A small room was easy enough to secure as was a washer for his too worn clothes. He enjoyed himself but not too much, he could not yet start to plan without having made sure Sunfyre was safe in his new home. The cow costed him half the coins he changed but it was more than worth feeding Sunfyre something good as a reward. He was still growing although now at a slower pace, so Aegon could allow himself to feed him once every two weeks. Still coin was disappearing faster than Aegon would have liked so he should start to think about getting himself a job or an apprenticeship soon. The idea of working did not entice him, preferring to lead a life of hedonism pleasure without having to move a hand. Yet the mere though of having to suffer his mother again was enough motivation to start shovelling pig shit if necessary.

The people from Lys were fond of the arts, murals and songs could be experiences trough the city. The night life was certainly to die for, if it wasn’t for the many slave bed houses and their Lyseni owner looking at him with voracious appetite, probably trying to wager if anyone would miss him if he was kidnapped.

For now, he still had two small bags full of coin as well as some jewels, so he promised himself once he was down to one, he would look for a job, hopefully not in any of the pleasure houses. But for now, he would enjoy himself, drink fuck and sing to his hearts content.

The district besides the port was famous for its taverns, colourful lanterns lighted up the streets and music could be heard coming from every establishment. It was truly a sight to see, the people were merry drinking in the street and basking in the heat of the coming Summer. Men and women walked without a care, not looking out at the possibility of getting their throat slit like one would in King’s Landing at night. Aegon entered the one that had become his favourite establishment of the city. The tavern had a wooden mermaid sign in the entryway, the soft pluck of strings could be heard over the bustle, and they served fruity white wine at a very affordable price. He moved unseen trying to get closer to the stage wondering what kind of performer they would have that night. He may have been a bit distracted by the beauty of the troubadour when a shoulder destabilized him and made his jug fall to the floor.

The girlish scream resounded trough the tavern but was soon deafened by the music and conversation. It may had been embarrassing to emit such a screech, but Aegon reasoned, no one could blame him. After all it was not every day you bumped into a ghost. The dead man stood there, jug in his hand looking at him equally horrified. If Aegon had not been so paralyzed with fear at the sight of Leanor Velaryon he would have run away. Fate made his body react when the man had already a hand wrapped around his arm.

Laenor who was just trying to have a good time with his boyfriend for once, looked into the scared violet eyes of his brother-in-law. Hair short and black but unmistakable face, perhaps with less fat than the last time he had seen the kid, but when someone has grown up around you, three years don’t really make much of a difference.

Both of them shared a thought. "What the fuck is he doing here?!”

Chapter Text

Laenor

He looked at the boy standing in front of him, shocked. He had not drunk enough to start having visions, and even if he had, he certainly wouldn’t hallucinate him out of everyone.

"Aegon." He said too stunned to say more. 

"Laenor! You are supposed to be dead! I went to your funeral!" The boy yelled. 

"Well, I'm clearly not." Laenor felt quite out of place, his farce had been discovered and he didn’t know what to do.

"Obviously" Answered the boy with a confused face.

Qarl, bless his heart, chose that moment to come to Laenor's rescue. Aegon narrowed his eyes even more at the sight.

"Sir Qarl, the man that killed you! You ran away together! How salacious!" He exclaimed while pointing. He swore the prince was enjoying the discovery.

"Aegon, please inside voice." Laenor chastised.

"Perhaps it would be better to take this to a more private place. Care to come to our home?" Qarl asked, trying to prevent a public scandal.

The walk from the tavern to their quaint house was awkward at best, almost having to drag Aegon at times since the boy kept getting distracted and gawking at the multiple taverns and brothels. Laenor did not enjoy whatever was churning in that mischievous head of his brother-in-law. At least they made it without further incident. Once inside, Qarl occupied himself with lightning the living room while Laenor plopped himself onto a cushioned sofa, indicating for his brother-in-law to sit on another in front of him. 

"May I ask how you even got here?" Laenor started. 

"Dragon back, how else?" Aegon answered offended at the thought he might have stepped onto a ship or left Sunfyre behind. 

"You brought a dragon, to the Triarchy?" Qarl said massaging his temples.

"Oh, this is in the Triarchy? Sunfyre is hidden away down south anyway, no one has to know."

"Doesn't matter, you can't exactly hide a golden dragon forever on a tiny island, Aegon. Can't you see how this would be dangerous?" Laenor reproached. 

"I mean you used to burn the Triarchy armies alive with Seasmoke, and you are here, so..."

"He got you there Le." Qarl admitted.

"Wait whose side are you on?!" Laenor protested.

"I mean he does have a point, we used to fight these people, I'm glad no one has recognized us but now that I think of it, it's not impossible." Qarl reasoned, a new worry gnawing at him. 

"Back to the subject please. Do your parents know you are here?" Laenor pushed already guessing the answer by the badly died hair.

"Do yours?" Aegon crossed his arms offended.

"He is good at this, I'll give him that." Qarl added.

It was quite a shock for both to experience the backtalk, both of the Velaryon boys having been well behaved and respectful. Of course, teenagers were like that, still it had been years since either of them had been one and it was unexpected. Laenor remembered sorrowful how Aegon had always been trouble, Jace more often than not ending somewhat involved in his pranks and playful plans. Hopefully they would be able to keep him out of trouble.

"How much coin do you have?" He kept the pseudo interrogation.

"Enough for a while, I know better than to share with strangers that kind of information." 

"We are not strangers Aegon, I was there when you learned to speak." Laenor reminded him. 

"My death would still benefit your sons, so forgive me for not trusting you." 

"Wait wait, we are not killing anybody here. Much less children." Qarl exclaimed very much horrified at the implication. 

"I'm a man grown!" Aegon said, also horrified at being called a child. 

"You are sixteen, and you have been sheltered and spoiled all your life, so yes you are a child." The Velaryon claimed. Somehow it managed to shut Aegon up, who just crossed his arms indignant. He was surprised at how easy it was to draw that emotion out of the prideful boy. 

"And when your money runs out what then?" He pressed. 

"I guess I'll find some work..." The boy answered scratching his head. 

"Work? And what exactly can you do?" Laenor kept his questioning. 

"Write and read, I'm also fluent in High Valyrian and Common tongue." 

"A slave can do that. Anything else?" 

Aegon just looked at him blankly with those big violet eyes that reminded him of Rhaenyra. 

"We could bring him to the docks with us." Qarl suggested. Laenor regarded him with a pensive look, not exactly eager to bring his brother-in-law to work but not eager either to let the boy wander on his own. Lys was dangerous, slavers waiting to snatch you up if you looked enticing enough. 

"Can you swim?" He gave in.

"I learned with Jace and Luke, you were there!" Aegon exclaimed offended once again. 

Qarl the traitor had the audacity to laugh at him, knowing full well who had convinced him it was a good idea to drink until the morning that day. 

They arranged to meet in the port the next morning and then Aegon left to his lodgings to spend the night. Once gone Laenor forced himself to start the strenuous conversation on how to move forward with his other half. Although seeing Qarl already fretting at the boy walking alone trough the city at night he could already wager where this was going. Qarl had not grown surrounded by the security and privilege being the first-born son of the Sea Snake afforded you, but instead was of low birth and thus knew from close experience the dangers life could afford a nobody. It didn't help either he had grown surrounded by little brothers and cousins which made him an inherent worrier. Before the conversation even ended he knew the boy was staying, now the only matter was to decide which room they would give him. 

Aegon had never been on a boat, never carried much weight, something quite apparent from his gangly shape and never even navigated a port. He was pretty useless, and that was apparent. Laenor was very sure they would throw the boy out before the end of the day and not pay him anything. What he had not expected was the fact that somehow Aegon was charming. Not in the suave sort of way that made people admire you, but in the puppy sort of way that made people not want to throw you out in the rain. It must be some hidden facet of his personality that made him seem so helpless, so fatherless the men at the docs could not resist themselves but adopt him. 

So instead of kicking him in the ass the men there were more than happy teaching him things he eagerly learned, with enthusiasm that may have been a tad too contagious. They paid him little but welcomed him the next day if he still wished to learn and Aegon beamed at the attention. 

That afternoon the boy left to retrieve whatever little possessions he had brough, while they prepared a spare bedroom on the lower floor for him. 

It was weird Laenor mused, to suddenly have to care for another child. It made him miss his boys, even Joffrey who he had only spent a few months had made a dent on his heart. He had never been the best father, but he liked to think he wasn't all that bad and where he lacked Harwin could supply. Now he was presented with another opportunity, although he could anticipate Aegon would be way more difficult than his children. On the other hand the fact he was more mature would leave him way more leeway and he seemed open minded enough when he realized he and Qarl had run away together. As Qarl had put it, if out of every place in the wide world fate had brought him to our doorstep, it must mean here is where he belongs. It's not like they could deliver him back to the Queen without blowing their cover either, so for now they were stuck with the prince. 

The men at the docks taught Aegon painstakingly while he spews gossip. How Laenor had abandoned his poor sister, how it was fine because she had remarried to the love of her life and was now with child. He received some looks for that one, most of them knowing where Laenor’s inclinations lay and wondering how in the seven hells had he even managed to get with a woman in the first place. Then of course Aegon started his personal pity party, explaining how his mother had disinherited him and how his father never cared about him as much as his child from his first wife, then complaining about how he would be eventually left dry and penniless, so he had decided to leave and make something of himself. The ruddy men most certainly sympathised, most of them seeing their younger selves in him, a young boy just trying to survive. If Aegon had embellished the story a bit, Laenor refused to bring attention to it. By the time the second day was over the boy's hands were red and hurting, and his pay was small, but he had been invited to the weekly card night nonetheless. 

And so Aegon got his first job and gained a lot of burly and fatherly new friends. 

Alicent

Aegon had always been close by. Her earliest constant and companion after her marriage to Viserys. It was him who had crafted the inescapable bars of the prison they called motherhood and the only hope for her salvation. The only one who could make all this pain, all this sacrifice worth anything. His absence ached like a missing limb, his phantom teasing the corners of her vision. He had never been missing so long, three days at most, now it was a week and a half. Neither the gold cloaks, the white cloaks or her father's spies could locate her missing son. She had even stepped so low as to ask Lord Larys for help, but he had been unable to produce any results just like the others. The vision of her child slaughtered in some dich in Fleabottom plagued her mind and shook her heart night after night. All she had to console herself was that Sunfyre was missing as well. Yet how could no one from Dorne to Pentos have seen a house sized golden dragon?

Her fingers were in constant pain, blood smudging her green dresses, hoping beyond hope she would not have to switch to black. Her anxiety almost palpable, her desperation betrayed her, making her go to her son's room thrice a day just to find it as empty as he had left it. How she hoped to see him stumbling, dirty and drunk out of his mind, but back. She prayed and promised the Mother she would have mercy on him if she brought him back to her, she would deliver no slaps, not even an angry word. But wherever he was the Mother could not reach, and Aegon stayed missing.

King Viserys did not notice his absence, oblivious to his existence as he had remained after his second nameday. Once informed he had remained as indifferent as before, delegating the responsibility of the search to the Hand and not giving it another thought. 

After two weeks passed without any news Alicent's resolve finally broke and she wrote to Rhaenyra, hoping beyond hope his son had gone to his treacherous sister. A raven three days later denied having seen him. He was not in Dragonstone and not in Driftmark, but they promised her Corlys' ships would keep an eye out for the prince. No one had seen the boy from the Wall to Sunspear nor from the Iron islands to Dragonstone. He and his dragon had disappeared into thin air. 

Prince Aegon, King Viserys first born son was officially declared missing after three weeks of his absence. 

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra

On one hand Rhaenyra had never been close to her half siblings, on the other she was politically aware enough to know this disappearence was very detrimental for her and hers. She hadn't interacted with the boy much besides dealing with him in regard to her own children, but she knew he used to have a soft spot for her two oldest boys, always getting in trouble together. Boys being boys and causing maihem in the castle. She had also not forgotten how surprised her half-brother had been when Aemond named him responsible for the bastard accusations, even if the boy had owned up to it after their father's screams, everyone knew those words were not his own. 

And now her half-brother, the first-born son of the king and her would be opponent for the throne had disappeared alongside his dragon. Even a fool would suspect foul play, specially knowing how Aegon was, messy and careless, predisposed to leave a trace. Only a dragon could kill another dragon in a swift way, and the Hightowers would not kill one of their own, which only left her and hers as a likely suspect. 

It was even worse because with Aegon gone the contest would remain, it would just pass to her father's second son, Aemond. And how much Rhaenyra hated that. She very much preferred Aegon as their champion, the boy lacked any kind ambition and was wholly uninterested in politics, if she was being fair, in personality he was the most alike her father, both good natured and prefering to indulge in drinking and resting rather than court. Both probably would have been content enough to be a lord of some castle without much responsibility, something she hoped she could have appealed to when the time came. 

Yet now she had Aemond to deal with, the boy no doubt hated her sons for what had been done to him, Baela and Rhaena too. Viserys' second son was everything his older brother was not, smart, constant, rule abiding and very much under his mother's thumb. She doubted that if bad came to worst the boy could summon any kind of mercy for her or her family, there was no past friendship to allude to, nothing but disdain and resentment. The boy had been ready to crack Jace's head open with a rock for Gods sake. Now all of that bad blood could be exacerbated even more if the boy believed her to be the cause of his older brother’s death. 

For all intent and purposes finding Aegon alive and well should be a priority. Better have her silly little brother as a contest than Alicent's golden child. 

Aemond

Six months had passed since his brother's disappearance. The castle thrummed impatient, the young prince is dead, some said, the young prince has been seen in Volantis other added, perhaps his dragon snatched him up and took him to Old Valyria like poor princes Aera other said with pity.

It mattered not, because Aegon was gone, and it seemed he would be gone for good. The lords and couriers now looked at him instead, the next male in line. He was the rightful heir now, or at least until his brother decided to show up again, if he was even alive to do that.

He had not understood before why Aegon was always running away from his responsibilities and dreading court. Of course, once a month passed without his brother, his grandsire had started to change his focus onto him. Suddenly his freedom was greatly diminished, his lessons extended, and his workload increased. He tried so hard to keep up with it, with his sword training, with deepening his bond with Vhagar, with the unending readings. But it never seemed like enough, he always felt a step behind. His depth perception was still something he was trying to work on, his feet faltered on the dirt and his only eye grew quickly tired of studying under candlelight.

The rumours and whispers that came after only made his dread worse. He remembered what they said about Aegon, an irresponsible and lecherous drunkard.

Now those same whispers were directed at him. One-eye they called him, stuck up, unfeeling, he has a stick up his arse they said. At least Aegon had been fun, had been friendly, but who would want to be friends with One-eye Aemond? They said the only companion he had was Ser Cole and that was because the Queen required it. Haven’t you heard? They would whisper. The only one who could stand him was his brother, and even he left eventually. He is so weird, they said behind his back. I heard he wanted this, wanted his brother to disappear so he could get the throne, maybe it was him, maybe he fed the prince and his dragon to Vhagar. Those last ones hurt the most. He would never hurt his family like that, but the gossipers didn't seem to care.

He could not go crying to his mother this time, not like he had after the pig prank, there was nothing she could do. She had already told him to thicken his skin and not listen to the whispers, but how could he not when they said such vile things of him. He retreated more into himself as a result, which made them grow bolder, their words cutting him like daggers. Viserys will never name him heir, I heard he didn't even care when they cut out his eye, they would say. And it was true. 

Before if you would have told Aemond his brother was gone never to return he would have answered with a good riddance. Their relationship had been strenuous at best, the more Aemond grew the worse Aegon got and the more they fought. Mother said it was puberty, that it would pass with time, but Aemond doubted it, his brother was an ass, had always been an ass and would always be an ass. He would never have in a million years guessed he would actually miss the idiot, but he did. He was all alone now. There was no Aegon to train with, even with his constant complaints to poor Ser Criston. There was no Aegon on his classes, who would pretend to work and sleep behind a book or look for raunchy passages in the old tomes. There was no Aegon during dinner who would fling peas at him to Helaena's traitorous amusement, and who would sometimes hit grandsire by mistake to his own. Damn there was not even an Aegon to come into his room blow his candles off and throw something on the floor just to close the door again without even uttering a word. 

It was stupid and insane, but he missed his older brother, more and more each day he was without. Aemond would never confess it to him of course, for he knew if he did the teasing would be relentless, but he did. He was the second son, that is what he was supposed to be, what he was good at, to have all this responsibility all this sudden unwavering attention. It terrified him. He had longed for it, to show everyone how worthy he was, how good he was compared to Aegon. Now there was no one to compare him against, and the people were not impressed, they were quite the opposite. The rejection hurt, and it scared him to the core. He didn't want to face them, didn't want to have to look at the nobles and couriers just to see disdain or mockery in their faces. How he wished to have Aegon to stand behind. To go into the throne room besides his mother petrified him every time, and all he could think was that perhaps if Aegon was here he could have asked him to hold his hand, just for a moment to calm his nerves, to know everything would be okay. His brother would call him weak, a whimpering maiden, but he would do it nonetheless, like the first time he had been allowed to go to the dragonpit with him. 

Why couldn't the fool just get the tantrum over and come back? Aegon hadn't even said goodbye. 

Aegon

The past seven months had been one of the best in Aegon's life. His hands may be callused and his body more tanned than it had ever been, damn he had even gotten those freckles he teased Aemond for having, yet despite all of that, he had a wonderfull time.

The first three months he had spent hauling boxes, sacs and what not out of ships, the men would tease him and call him princess everytime he faltered but they also didn't hestitate to help. The nickname had stuck, but Aegon didn't really mind it, better princess than Smelly or something foul. It was all Laenor’s fault, he had forgotten himself and asked "Need any help my prince?" which had caused all the other men to absolutely loose it and run with it.

After three months Laenor had started to teach him how to work a ship, how to do basic knots and roll the flags properly. It was more of a challenge than he expected, gaining a renewed admiration for the Velaryon who seemed to have the sea in their blood unlike Aegon's clumsy fingers. Some of the men like Big Roger or Fuzzy had been incredibly helpfull as well. It was not the only thing he learned, Qarl taking in on himself to teach him how to prepare some basic meals. "Because I know how you royals are, bound to starve even in a kitchen full of ingredients." He hadn't even been mad when Aegon had half burned the bread, as he said, the first time he had tried to teach Laenor he had managed to burn the curtains while trying to boil water. His ex-brother in law had done more than his part as well, making sure he knew how to shave properly and how often a man grown should actually bathe and groom himself. No one before had even cared to explain, specially not his father. It had actually been Criston who had initially showed him how a shaving knife worked, sadly the man had too many other responsibilities and could only give him a short version which resulted in him apearing with some small cuts all over for the foreseeable weeks.

After four months he finally made his first boat trip, it was a short one, not even half a day. A little rescue mission to a strugling fishing boat. Still, he had not even vomited and Laenor had been proud of his knotting work. The men had celebrated him in the afternoon with drinks, they had also started their plotting. A week later they had gone to Big Roger’s house and he had pierced Aegon's ear, to Laenor’s apprehension, Qarl had produced a small gold earing for him to wear. It hurt but it also filled him with so much joy he had almost cried. All sailors wore one, just in case you die in foreign lands, it should pay for a decent funeral rite they explained. Aegon wasn't planing on dying any time soon, but he still appreciated the gesture. The only thought besides gratefullness was the fact that his mother would freak out if she were ever to see it. And wasn’t that a funny image.

At five months he had gotten into his first fight, some ashole had insulted Qarl and he had insulted him back. When the ashole had produced four friends out of thin air Aegon had the bright idea to say. "Oh, look the bride brought her bride's maids!" and then he had gotten beat the shit out of him untill One Leg Tom intervened. He might have gotten a broken nose and two black eyes, but now anytime one of the friends showed their face at the port they were constantly asked how the bride was, so Aegon took it as a win.

After there had bee a group effort to teach him how to use a knife and how to actually throw a punch. "Swords are nonsense, knives are easier to carry and to conceal and they are equally lethal without making you look like a pompous ashole." Big Roger had said. "And with a sharp mouth as yours you better get to learning because sooner or later you are going to get shanked." One Leg Tom added. He had indeed learned, more out of necessity than anything else, but he had managed to get decent enough to at least avoid being hit.

The six month came with a big storm that lasted two weeks. His main concern had been Sunfyre, the high winds and abundant rain would have made the act of flying dangerous which would mean his dragon would either be lost in some other island or copped up in the cave without the ability to hunt. He had ventured out with a goat as soon as the rain and wind had let on for a bit. Thankfully Sunfyre had been his good-natured self, eating the goat gleefully and demanding pets and attention. Sadly, he was not brave enough to fly that night, but he promised he would in two weeks’ time when he returned. Due to the storm business had slowed, the port was a frail ecosystem and some people saw themselves displaced to other fields by the end of the first week. It also meant an opportunity for Aegon to get a promotion though. The free time allowed to go out a partying with the youngest members of the crew, it had also meant getting dragged home extremely drunk. Which then provoked a very stern talk from Laenor the next morning. Surprisingly it didn’t include any slaps, screaming, or reproaches and he didn’t even tell him how much of a disappointment he was. It was weird. Truly, Aegon didn’t know how to react to that, Laenor spoke to him like he considered him grown and was just expressing his concern, what was he supposed to do to that? No one had really done that before.

On the seventh month they did three more voyages all of them lasting a total of four days, the time it took to go to the Disputed lands for cargo and back. Aegon had never spent so long on a ship, but he would not say he disliked it. The wind on his face and the saltwater smell was refreshing compared to the port of Lys or King’s Landing rot. He relished as the sun shone bright and the white flags swelled with the eastern winds. The knot work came easier to him after the months of intensive training and he was able to adapt to the rhythm of the crew quickly, each working like a soldier in a phalanx. He found joy in conversing with the men, when he was a prince, he would have looked down on them, as most nobles did, just for the fact they were smallfolk. But now he understood the purity of your blood did not make you any less intelligent. They had visited many places and they told many tales, they spoke of the freezing seas of Ibben to the calm of the Jade Sea. Adventures, history, warfare and when they got a bit tipsy philosophy as well. But not the one Aegon knew, of the seven and their rules or Old Valyria and their beliefs, but of the way the Dothraky saw the world, of the excessive politeness of the people of Qarth, of the extreme pacifism of the people of Naath. He had never before been exposed to such conflicting opinions and ways to the life. When he had asked which was the right one the men had laughed at him. “That is something you must figure yourself, princess. Do not let others tell you what to think, what to be.” When he looked at Qarl and Laenor for confirmation all they gave him was shrugged shoulders. That certainly didn’t make sense, all his life all everyone had tried to do was telling him what to be, what to believe in, and it turned out fighting against it had been right all along? If his mother could hear the men speak, she would faint at the hereticism.

At eight months his hair had almost shed all of the ink, roots stark white and the rest some sort of pale grey. He flew with Sunfyre to one of the smaller islands to hunt for something other than sharks and porpoises, Qarl had covered for him citing a rather nasty indigestion. They had done two more voyages and Laenor had considered him apt to learn more specialized knots, ones his own father had taught him, Qarl laughed at them and complained they were just show offs of normal knots. It had subsequently developed in a heated discussion on the merits or lack thereof of Corlys’ knots, Aegon had laughed his ass off but learnt them anyway if only to be contrarian. It was also the month the whispers had started coming.

On the ninth month the whispers were confirmed, war was ahead and the Triarchy was going to make a play for the Stepstones once again. That was bad, for the war and the death that was coming, but specially for business. Most of the crew were going to move soon, some to Volantis and further west others to Bravos and the north. Laenor and Qarl were specially affected by the news, it did not surprise Aegon when they requested he sat down with them to speak about the future.

Before anyone could speak he made sure to say his piece.

“I don’t mind where you want to go, I’d be happy to tag along, with Sunfyre. If you would have me that’s it…”

“That is what we wanted to talk about. We want to move, probably to Bravos if the war doesn’t reach us first. We would have to almost start from zero though. Wouldn’t it be better for you to return home? Back to your family?” Laenor delivered, concerned.

“No way, I’m not going back!”

“Aegon, come on. Think of the Queen, won’t she be worried after all this time? You haven’t even written to her to tell her you are alive. Surely you can mend things after your fight, I’m sure you will be received with open arms.” The elder tried to negotiate.

“What about YOUR mother? She believes you dead, you didn’t see it because you were occupied running away but the poor woman almost threw herself at the hearth to get you out. If you want me to write so bad, so should you.”

“We are not talking about me.”

“Well, we should! Your mother was absolutely distraught, I’ve never seen cousin Rhaenys so broken. Don’t you think she would receive you with open arms? Guard your secret if necessary? Not only that, but you left Seasmoke behind!” Aegon reproached, he could not understand how anyone could leave their dragon behind. The mere thought of being separated forever from Sunfyre made his heart clench and his skin crawl, it was already painful to only see his beloved dragon every two weeks, to not see him for years? He would rather die.

“I can not go back. You can and we think you should.”

Qarl looked away almost ashamed. Aegon would not give up.

“Yes, you can! I can fly you over with Sunfyre in the night, you can talk to your mom and get Seasmoke back, and then we can begin anew in Bravos.”

“I could take a ship with our friends and our things. Prepare things for when you return…”

“Qarl you can’t be buying into this insane idea of his. We have talked about this.” Laenor protested.

“Yes, I know, but if I had a chance to see my mother again, I would take it. You know how she is, she kept Joffrey secret and me, even from your own father. Plus having an extra dragon? Come on, just think about it.” Qarl pleaded, his mother had passed a while ago and he regretted the pain caused to the lady Rhaenys.

Qarl boarded a ship at the end of the month, and they waited until the middle of the next to fly on Sunfyre.

Destination: Driftmark.

Chapter Text

Aegon

Aegon had to confess it was a bit weird to carry a passenger. The only one that had ever joined him on Sunfyre's saddle weirdly enough had been Helaena, and that was only because she had aided him in a prank to Ser Criston. Aemond had made a scene after, raving all about how unfair it was since Helaena already had a dragon and why did she need to ride Aegon's when he himself who was without had been denied! He had just told him to stop whining and Helaena hadn't even contemplated his argument ignoring him in favour of one of her creatures. Aemond had run away crying to their mother about the unfairness of the situation, but the Queen had never been fond of the scaly creatures, so she hadn't been that sympathetic. In retrospect he might have been a bit of a dick, after all it's not like giving his little brother a ride would have  taken too much time and it would probably have made his whole month. On the other hand Aemond was an annoying twat, and having a dragon had not changed that.

Laenor had been mostly gracious, he had only called him and his dragon crazy a couple of times, Aegon would not dispute him, but he also wouldn't deny his Sunfyre a snack just because Laenor did not enjoy flying through a swarm of seagulls. All in all it had been more entertaining than flying alone, they had followed the same modus operandy as Aegon had when coming, they just spent one day in each city instead of three. 

They landed in Driftmark with the new moon dark enough for Sunfyre to pass unnoticed and to avoid any fishermen. Once ashore Laenor led him to a particular rock formation and explained the plan. Turns out Driftmark does have a couple of secret passages just like the Red Keep, and Aegon was meant to traverse them and get the princess to follow him. Piece of cake. It needed to be him, since all the farce would crumble if Laenor was caught sneaking in. Looking once more back to his dragon he entered the tunnels and followed Laenor’s instructions.

Rhaenys

The sea was calm and dark, the stars shone bright and her liquor tasted just as strong and sweet as always. Sleep had always been difficult to find, as a child her mother would stay with her and read her stories, later her lord husband would accompany her and offer comfort, after she had two small children who required her attention and she was more than glad to rock them and soothe them during the night. But now her children were dead and Corlys had grown old, preferring to sleep early and wake early, so she remained in solitude in their hall. She entertained herself with books, rereading Baela's and Rhaena's letters and looking at old memories from her children. Poems for Mother’s Day, a drawing of Seasmoke from when Laenor was seven, an essay in High Valyrian on hopes for the future from her dear Laena when she was ten and four. 

It was only natural that she jumped from her seat and grabbed a dagger when a figure decided to stumble out of the wall. 

"Cousin Rhaenys, please don't scream!" 

The vision of the grey haired boy holding a lantern surprised her, but he was not hard to recognize. She did not scream as requested, but she did not let the dagger go either. 

"Why are you here?" She demanded. 

"I'm just a busy boy. You need to come with me, there is something you need to see." The prince said breathless. 

"Is that why you have scurried here through the darkness? Do you think I'm dumb enough to follow your through the night alone?" 

"No. But if you don't you will regret it for the rest of your life, that I can promise." The determination in his face was something new, every time she had seen the boy, he had been sporting a bored or a sarcastic expression. 

"How do I know you are Aegon and not one of the faceless men of Bravos?" 

"You don't. But do you really think someone would pay that much money to have you killed? I don't have all night, either you come with me, or I leave." At this she took offense, she was most certainly worth the money, much more than that actually. 

"Well then, boy. Show me or lead me to my death. But if it's not worthwhile it will be you on a pillory come morning." Curiosity had always been a weakness in her, a common trait she and her husband shared. If it killed her so be it, but she knew if she didn't go she would wonder what it was till her death.

"Trust me, it will!"

The prince led her trough a narrow staircase. It smelt of damp rock and algae, the sound of the ocean growing louder and louder as they descended. She felt conflicted, on one hand perhaps it was better to remain quiet as to not alert the other inhabitants of the castle, on the other she felt to have asked too little. 

"Aegon, why did you leave? Everyone is worried about you."

"I doubt it. I had a fight with the Queen, she said she wouldn't care about what I did, so I left."

"Mothers seldom mean those sorts of things." The quarrels she had with her children had never reached such heights, not even Laena with her wild spirit could have elicited such a response from her. But her children had been good most of the time, and from what she knew of her cousin's son he was completely the opposite. She could understand how exasperation could lead someone to speak those words even if they did not mean them. 

"It does not matter, King's Landing is awful and I'm not going back." The boy said decisive. That she had to agree with, King's Landing was awful, specially court. 

"And yet here you are."

"Indeed, but this is not the capital. Just a small detour to fulfil a deal."

The sand crunched under her slippers and the cold sea breeze made her shiver even inside her robe. She followed him as they advanced trough the beach, keeping close to the cliffs so the watchmen did not notice them. She could see scales glint with the moon's light right ahead, just like the ocean. 

Aegon stopped outside a grotto and finally turned to face her. 

"Right so I'll guide you in and get out to let you speak."

"Speak with whom?" 

But the prince did not answer, just walked in with the lamp. The hairs on her arms stood in preparation, something in her screamed that this was a trap, to not go in. She paid it no mind, she had already accepted that just as curiosity had killed the cat, it would probably kill her as well. As her legs finally worked and lead her trough the entrance, she met with the boy prince again as he got out. He only gave her a nod as she followed the yellow flickering light of the lamp ahead. Her hand tightened on her dagger as she entered a bigger chamber. 

Her breath caught in her chest and the dagger clattered to the damp sand. It could not be. It had to be a vision of her tired mind, a figment of her imagination, there was no other explanation of how her dead son was standing before her. The hallucination met her halfway. 

"Mother." He spoke, with his voice. Her hands curled around his forearms, warmth seeping through his rough tunic. 

There was no way and yet.

She wanted to scream at him, to reproach him, how dare him leave like that, how dare him make her suffer through the pain of losing another child, but she could not. The relief was overpowering. Her boy was back. All was a bad dream, the body, the funeral, it mattered not because he was back, he was real and not a fiction of her desperate imagination. He was here, breathing and talking and she was too scared to drive him away again. She knew she would do anything to keep him just a bit longer between her arms. The pain, the suffering, it did not matter, because her boy was here, he was well and he was real, nothing else mattered but this. She had prayed to the western gods, to the Valyrian gods, to the sun, the sky and the moon to bring her children back, to wake her from this horrible nightmare, and they had. Finally for once in her life the gods had listened. So, she wept and she let the relief fill her. Her boy was alive and nothing else mattered. She kissed his cheek and his brow and held his face in her hands. When he was but a babe, she held him in her arms during the night and watched him sleep, if Corlys hadn't dragged her to bed she would have stayed up all night watching him, she didn't think she would ever tire. She felt the same now, no matter how grown he was or that she could ko longer hold him like before, she would be happy to just look at her precious boy. 

“Oh, my Laenor." she said choked in her own clashing emotions. "You are fine, are you not?" 

"I am mother. I am so sorry.” He cried.

“Why? Why leave? Why not tell me anything?”

“You know why. I wish I had been brave enough to tell you, but it was a half baked plan, so much could go wrong. I was so afraid.” Laenor said hiccupping at the end.

“Right after Laena too? I would have guarded your secret, you know I would have. I could have helped.” She reproached, fury was starting to bloom inside of her, betrayal. She had cried his death, been unable to get out of bed for weeks for a lie.

“It was the best chance we could have gotten. I’m so sorry mom. I wish I could do things differently.”

“Why did you stay away? Why not come to me before today?”

“I was ashamed. How could you ever forgive me after the pain I have put you trough?”

“How could I not? Do you ever think I would turn you away? That I wouldn’t do anything for you? By the gods Laenor, you are my son! I would put the world to the torch if it meant protecting you.”

The embrace was desperate, they both wept in each other’s arms. Rhaenys kissed his hair and stroked his back cherishing the moment. It was a miracle she could do so again, and she would not waste this second chance.

Once the crying had waned she felt it right to ask.

“Why now? Why did you return?” Did he wish to stay? Was he in need for money? Those were things Rhaenys could arrange, she just hoped it was not something worse.

“Aegon.” Laenor said before wiping his nose with his sleeve. “He insisted I should come and see you. We made an agreement.”

“Then I know who to thank for bringing my son back. How did you even find the wayward prince? And what kind of promise did you make him?”

“He found me. Bumped against me in a tavern in Lys, I could not leave him by himself there. I insisted he returned with his mother or at least wrote to her, and he insisted I do the same. So we compromised. I come to see you and retrieve Seasmoke and he sends a letter to the queen.”

“You are not staying then, are you?” She asked pained, even though she already knew the answer.

“I cannot. Qarl… he is waiting for us in Bravos.” Laenor said hesitating after pronouncing the man’s name.

“I see. Are you happy? With him, with your new life?” She asked.

“I am. I am sorry.” Her son admitted shamefully. As if his happiness was something to be ashamed of.

“Do not be. I told your father to let you be, but you know how he is, obsessed with legacy. So much he would not recognize what Rhaenyra has done with those boys.” The anger was back because this needn’t have happened. If her husband had listened to her in the first place and let Laenor be she would not have had to mourn her son.

“Those boys are my sons, mother. It is true I have not fathered them, but I have raised them, and is not that just as important? If anyone is at fault for their parentage, it’s me and my inability to be a good husband.” Laenor retorted, serious as he could get.

“I see…I apologize then. Did Rhaenyra have anything to do with your death?” It was still a surprise how protective her son was of those children, before she had though it to be acting to protect Rhaenyra, now she could see it was not. He did truly care for them.

“Yes. She wanted to be with Daemon and I wished to be free. We took a chance.”

“So soon after Laena’s death, she truly has no shame.” She protested.

“Do not blame her mother.”

“But I do. I blame both of them. Not even two days could they wait after you were put to rest before they wedded, three for Laena’s. They took the poor children away to Dragonstone too and had them witness it, as if the poor things weren’t traumatized enough.” There were things she could forgive, this was not one of them. Laenor was her son and had come back to tell her the truth. On the contrary her cousin and his new wife were not so dear to her.

“I’m sorry, I was not aware of that. You should go and see them then, make sure for me they are all right, all of them. But before that, there is something I need to ask of you.”

And so, deep into the night they hatched a plan. Rhaenys left his son with a tight hug and a promise to write, she thanked the young prince and ascended the wet steps towards her hall. This night she did not sleep, gazing into the dark ocean and managing to catch the glint of two dragons flying away before sunrise.

"My dear wife what troubles you? Why have you not shared my bed tonight?" Corlys spoke, startling her. 

"Aegon came to visit me tonight."

"The lost prince? What did he want? Did he do something, my love?" He asked concerned. No doubt she looked horrible after a sleepless night full of emotions. 

"No, he brought a present and requested a favour in exchange."

"What sort of present?"

"He brought me Ser Qarl’s head in bag. He found the coward drunk in Lys and challenged him to a duel to avenge our son. He won. I fed that traitors head to Meleys before the sun rose, I could not contain myself." Her speech was monotonous and tired, with the right inflection for her dear husband to believe her. 

"That's a good lad. It gladdens my heart to finally see justice served." Corlys said kissing her hands. "I shall call the search off. Shame you didn't keep it, I would have loved to put it on a pike."

"I did not wish to look upon it a second more. My only regret is that he was not alive while my dragon tore his body apart." She added some bitterness to finish selling the deal. Corlys could never know, as much as it pained her, Laenor's safety and happiness came first, they had to come first at least once. 

After breaking her fast she dressed in her leathers and left to the beach. She knew where Meleys liked to nest and she hoped to find her in one of her favourite caverns. No doubt her girl would be saddened by Seasmoke’s parting, but she hoped the she dragon understood it was better for dragon and rider to remain together. With Seasmoke by his side there was no doubt Laenor would be safe.

Rhaenys arrived at King's Landing without fanfare. A wheelhouse took her to the fortress where he was received by Lord Caswell.

"I must see the Queen." she announced before the man could speak.

"Her majesty is  attending the council right now, alongside the King, I'm sure she will be happy to attend you after."

"Even better. This is an urgent matter so they will attend me there." She stated before sidestepping the man and walking towards the familiar chamber.

She did not announce herself, just opened the door and entered.

"Princess Rhaenys, what a surprise. May I inquire what brings you here?" Otto Hightower asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cousin, Queen Alicent, councilmembers." She saluted with a slight incline of the head. "I bring you a matter of the highest concern."

"And what could it be?" The King asked a bit wary.

"It's about your son." At the King’s lack of reaction she said. "Prince Aegon."

"What news do you bring of him?" Queen Alicent was quick to ask, concern written all over her face.

"He came to Driftmark last night along with his dragon, asking to urgently talk to me. He came with a gift and a request in exchange."

"He is fine, then? Safe?" The Queen prodded. But was quickly interrupted by the Hand.

"And what gift did he bring, princess?"

"The head of Qarl Correy in a leather bag. He spotted him in a tavern in Lys and a duel ensued."

"Why would Prince Aegon bring you such a thing? Has he lost his mind?" Lord Otto said, anger simmering below his words.

"Because it was his duty, and he felt it was his responsibility, as Rhaenyra's brother, to administer justice to the murderer of her husband."

At the mention of Rhaenyra the King's expression transformed to a slight smile. 

"That's my boy, a brave prince he is turning out to be. Didn't I tell you Alicent? Look what a fine lad he is growing to be without your incessant coddling."

The Queen was stunned, Rhaenys assumed due to the public berating. In truth it was due to the King's words. Alicent was surprised at his reaction, she knew it was spurned by the mention of Rhaenyra, but that didn't take from the fact Viserys had complimented Aegon publicly. He had called him my boy. The last time the Queen had heard him refer to their son as that the boy had been a toddler. She pursed her lips, pride brewing inside of her chest.

"He bested a Knight? In single combat?" The incredulous voice coming from beside the door of Ser Criston Cole broke the silence.

"That is what he told me." Rhaenys doubled down.

"It seems your rigorous training bore its fruits, Ser Cole. I'm sure you must be as proud as I am." The King said in good spirits.

"If I am permitted, the prince requested I deliver a private message to his mother, since from what I understood you both parted in bad terms." Rhaenys added hoping to cut the meeting short.

"Of course, we shall let the men continue the session. Please follow me princess." Alicent instructed cleverly extracting both of them from the situation.

The brunette led her to a solar adorned with plants and devoid of people.

"Do tell me if he is well. Did you see any wounds on him?" The queen asked dropping any formality. Rhaenys understood, she too would be desperate to know the state her child was after being missing for almost a year.

"He looked healthy and unhurt. From his face I would say he had been eating well too." She reassured.

"Why not come back? Why come to you?" Alicent asked. It reminded the princess of her own questions to her son the night before.

"He gave me a letter for you, that I hope may answers some of those questions. Although it is unsealed, I did not read it."

Queen Alicent held the letter to her chest with sorrowful eyes.

"Aegon did not wish for you or the King to know where he is staying, but he did promise to write and gave me a place I could send ravens to. I'm sure I could act as an intermediary if her grace so wished."

"I would be eternally grateful if you did. Stay for dinner and leave in the morrow, I will have a message for him then."

"I shall be glad to do so, your grace. Do excuse me, I am sure you are dying to read the letter." She excused herself, noting how hard the Queen was gripping the parchment.

"Thank you, princess Rhaenys. I mean it, it is very kind of you to act this way after what happened."

"No need, I owed him after what he did for me. And I know what is to lose a child, I'm only glad yours may still be able to come back." She explained giving her a soft smile.

"So am I."

Rhaenys departed after, going to familiar rooms and falling asleep without any care in the world, finally since her children’s death sleep came easy to her. Tomorrow she would go back to Driftmark and send her and Alicent’s message and after she would fly to Dragonstone and demand to see her grandchildren, all of them.

Alicent

Alicent hands trembled as she gazed upon the letter, the parchment was yellowish, clearly not the best quality, and it was messily folded, very much Aegon, always doing things with such little care.

When Rhaenys named her son her heart leaped out of her chest. She had expected the worst, her boy murdered and washed upon Driftmark's shores. But it had not been so. Somehow Aegon had gotten himself involved in a duel and come out victorious. A duel! Her child could have died to avenge his whore sister, what was he thinking! And yet he had managed in his absence what he had failed to do during all his years in King's Landing. He had made Viserys proud. It was smart of him, if he had even planned it, to engrace himself to his father by doing something for Rhaenyra. What was better, the King had praised him before the whole council, he had called him a brave prince, a fine lad. News would surely fly, she would make sure of it, everyone would know her son was not missing but hunting the murderer of Laenor Velaryon. They would all sing the praises of the valiant prince, that at his young age had bested a Knight, a man who had fought in the Step Stones, in single combat, and brought his head back for princess Rhaenys as a sign of respect.

Stilling her breath she opened the letter and started to read.

Dearest mother,

I hope this letter finds you well. You said I could do whatever I wanted so I did, you don’t get to be mad at me for that. I am well and nothing ails me, so is Sunfyre. We flew over to Essos and we have been living here since, turns out knowing High Valyrian is pretty useful down here, so apologize to Maester Mellos in my stead. I've been working at the docks in Lys. I know, working, who would have thought? Turns out it's harder than I expected, being from the smallfolk is really a struggle. I am eating well, I even learned how to cook some things! You must not worry for I am not living alone. I made a couple of friends who are really taking care of me, they sometimes even mother me more than you do!

War is coming to Lys, so we had to move, but I won't tell you where. I know this will make you mad, but I'm not coming back anytime soon, and I won't chance you or grandsire sending out thugs to kidnap me back. Hopefully you can understand and forgive me for that.

It's not like I don't miss you, Helaena and Daeron. Damn I even miss Aemond. But I don't think it was good for me to stay in Kings Landing. I haven't gotten drunk in two months, and I haven’t even stepped in a pleasure house here in Lys, so I do hope you can be at least a little bit proud of me for that.

Give my warms regards to everyone. I look forward to reading your response.

Your son, prince Aegon.

PD: Annul my betrothal to Helaena because I'm NOT coming back for that!

PDD: Don't let Aemond take anything out of my room! Daeron may have my old toys if he wants them, but not Aemond!

 Aemond

As the queen predicted news flew fast and everyone was taken by the tale of the brave prince. Aemond could only mop. He was glad his brother was alive and well. What he was not glad about was how he had decided to announce it. At sixteen Aegon had gone and bested a Knight in single combat defending the family’s honour. How could anyone compete with that?! How could Aemond, who was still getting wacked left and right by Criston, thanks to his huge blind spot, ever compete with that! It was so unfair! Mother has said even father had praised Aegon, had called him "my boy” and a “brave prince." Father never praised Aemond, not even after he claimed Vhagar. He thought he had learned to live with that. For father never cared much for the children of his second marriage, and although the rejection had hurt when he was still a child, he had grown out of wishing for his father's approval. But this was different! Because if suddenly father could love Aegon, that meant it was not their mother's blood which made them unlovable, but something else. And for the life of him Aemond could not figure out what was wrong with him. Even Criston had seemed a bit proud of the prince's accomplishment, acting bashful when someone complimented his part in training the prince. Criston had never been proud of Aegon before, he called him Lord of the Straw, Master of Naps, Weakwrist. Aemond tried so very hard, but how could he even compare? Aegon was supposed to be his stupid drunken brother not a dashing hero for everyone to compare him against. 

Mother had read them the letter Aegon had sent. Helaena had been upset, for she did not wish to leave the Red Keep and marry someone strange, but mother assured her it would be a few years before the King even considered sending her on a tour. On his end he had been a bit hurt, he knew they had been at odds for a long time, but why would he single him out like that? "I even miss Aemond" as if the twat was surprised by it, as if Aemond was his least favourite, someone you didn't think you would miss. His brother seemed to like Daeron well enough, even giving him his stuff, but not Aemond, never him. At least he remembered you, at least he admitted missing you a small voice inside his head whispered. 

So, he entered into his room well into the night determined to ignore his request and sack his things like a Greyjoy in a western coast. He did not find any jewellery but he grabbed some of Aegon's old tunics and the beautiful knife with an ivory handle his brother used to chop at his face. But above all he went there and cursed him. Cursed him for giving mother that awful letter, for making princess Rhaenys come here and sing his praises, for finally earning Father's love and for leaving. Specially for leaving. Leaving without him on top of it. He would have been the best squire ever! They could have had adventures together in Essos, and he would have found Ser Qarl way earlier than Aegon, he just knew, and then they could have returned victorious together. Aegon wouldn't even have to carry him in Sunfyre because he had Vhagar now. But he hadn't even deigned himself to say goodbye, so his loss then! And if Aemond shed a few angry tears before slamming the door closed then that was between him and the Gods.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra  

News about her brother's continued existence reached her thanks to Rhaenys, who had appeared uninvited bearing great news, as she put it. She had been unable to conceal the face of surprise when her cousin informed her of Ser Qarl's demise and of Seasmoke being claimed by a certain Adam. Which could only mean one thing, either Aegon had gotten to Qarl first and Laenor had been unable to take it, or the opposite had happened, and the knight had let the young prince win. There was no way her little brother could kill a grown man? Could there be? In her name on top of it. She, unlike Daemon, who thought it a good thing since now no one could claim bastardry of their still unborn child, could not let it go yet. She would have liked to ponder and try and figure out what kind of play the boy was making if not for Rhaenys. 

The woman had come determined, never had Rhaenyra seen her like that. She demanded her grandchildren spent at least two months with her and Corlys in Driftmark, they could take turns if necessary. Of course, she had protested, but her cousin was smart, Lucerys was supposed to inherit Driftmark one day, he at least would need to learn the inner workings of it, and as his grandmother she would petition for him to stay indefinitely to start that process. Of course, it did not have to be like that, she was sure all of the kids would enjoy an opportunity to connect with their Velaryon roots. Nevertheless, if Rhaenyra would not let her take the kids she would stay as a guest instead and let her think about the proposal for as long as she needed. Too long had she been kept from her grandchildren, she said, no more.

Rhaenyra welcomed her stay through gritted teeth, not happy at all she was trying to take her kids away. Especially since she seemed to be on friendly terms with her half brother now. What if this was part of a plan to get rid of her boys? 

The newfound conviction has shocked Rhaenyra, but Daemon was entirely too pleased with it. 

"Two months without kids, think about it." He had said in the privacy of their chambers, shining eyes and wicked smile. 

"I don't trust her."

"Nothing will happen to them, Rhaenyra. I'm sure the poor woman is just trying to get over her grief or something. There is nothing wrong with her wanting to spend time with her grandchildren."

"You don't understand, she loves your daughters, but my boys…she knows what they are. What if she has something planned to get them out of the way?" She asked anxiously, moving her rings.

"Do you really think Rhaenys capable of killing children?" 

"No…" 

"There you have it. I say we let them go, and if they like it, they may repeat it next year." Daemon suggested, too very happy about the ordeal.

"I shall ask them. If they don't want to go then they don't." She concluded, she would not force them to go no matter Rhaenys’ threats.

They asked them the next morning and the answers were varied.

Both girls were excited as was little Joff, all of them eager to embark on an adventure and leave Dragonstone.

Her two oldest boys were another story. Lucerys was apprehensive because, what if the people there didn't like him? What if he did something wrong and grandpa Corlys didn't want him to be Lord of the tides anymore? 

Jacaerys on his part was too aware of his true origins. He was more overwhelmed than anything, his grandmother had ignored him the last time they had seen each other, so for her to wish to spend time with him made him both excited and anxious. Would he be able to prove himself as a Velaryon when everyone knew he was everything but? Was grandmother asking for all of them because she feared they would not allow the girls to go if she only asked for them?

Rhaenyra did her best to calm their worries, although at the end of the day both boys did ultimately wish to go. Even if only to see where their father had grown up and the place Lucerys would rule over one day.

It was decided. Rhaenys was informed at lunch the next day and she gleefully sent a raven so Driftmark could send them a suitable ship, that way all of the kids could travel comfortably.

Two days later she found herself waving goodbye at the dock tears in her eyes, never before had she been separated so long from her children. Rhaenys would treat them well, she had promised to send a raven each week to keep them informed, and if she didn’t then a visit with Syrax and Caraxes would surely rectify the situation.

Once a few days had passed and she had gotten used to her children not being there she started to enjoy it. Daemon and her could do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, and wasn't that freeing? Her pregnancy was in the early stages so that did not impede them from taken advantage of the time fully. 

Still, the newfound reprieve did not mean she had forgotten her obligations. Thus, Rhaenyra sent a short message to the King. Just saying she was glad Aegon was alive and to pass her thanks to him. It would be impolite not to, and she was truly glad he was not dead. Now the people would stop accusing her of murder and Aemond was at a safe distance from the inheritance problem. And by the looks of it so was Aegon. She didn't blame him one bit, she too had taken the first opportunity to get away from court. Perhaps they could come to an agreement when the time came, she wasn’t opposed to financing manse in Pentos or wherever the boy wanted and she would also be more than happy to finance any business her half brother may decide to engage in when she was queen, if it kept him away from Westeros even better actually. 

Rhaenys

She was overjoyed. The girls were entranced looking overboard, Joff was happily being bounced in a hammock by one of the crewmen and Jacaerys was talking with the captain. The only one having a bad time was Lucerys, who looked white as paper and entirely out of it. What an irony, a future Lord of the tides who got seasick. Alas it mattered not, the boy would get used to it, and until then he could grip her skirts and she would rub his back and hold him close as long as he needed. The trip took a mere day and a half, thank the gods for that, the kids were starting to get claustrophobic and Lucerys had already emptied his stomach five times, the poor thing.

Corlys awaited them at port as did Vaemond and the other Velaryons, a proper welcome it was. They all got hugs and Lucerys even got the privilege of traveling in his grandsire’s arms all the way up to the castle. The only disturbance was Meleys, screeching overhead to signal she had arrived and would be going to her cave probably tired with all the sudden activity she had.

They let the kids pick the rooms they wanted for their stay, and with a heavy heart she pointed to Laenor’s and Laena’s rooms in case any of them wished to take them. The boys preferred not to, Jacaerys choosing one with views to the cliffside and Lucerys one with views to the port. Baela and Rhaena were another story, almost getting into a fight for who could sleep in their mother’s room, thankfully it was as easy to resolve as it was to just bring an additional bed in. Joff was too small, so he was to sleep in the old nursery by her and Corlys’ room, she had specified in her letter for that room to be prepared with a bed for her smallest grandchild. Old toys were dusted and washed, and picture books were taken out of boxes. 

It was surprising how much hearing the laughs and small footsteps of children filling her halls again lifted her spirit. It also forced Corlys to delegate a bit and stop working so damn much to focus on the children for a while. She wagered it would do him well too, their enthusiasm was very much contagious. And they were going to spoil them rotten too, that she knew, that is what grandparents were for after all, and they had been without too long, they would need to make up for time lost. 

Or that is what she told herself when she made an appointment with the seamstress and ordered to have some patterned light blue fabrics brought. Black was too sad for children to wear and while on Driftmark they could suit their colours instead. They would take them to the market too and get them some extra toys and other knickknacks, new and just for them. Also serve them delicacies from around the world, it would do them gold to expand their palate, sweets and cakes and many more. She was sure that by the end of the two months they would be begging to come back or not leave at all. 

The work though was not all done, there were a few conversations they still needed to have. The children would most certainly have many questions, some more difficult to answer than others, but she and Corlys would do their best to answer them when the time came.

First though there was an important issue she needed to address. Thus, that day after dinner she made sure to wish everyone a good night in their rooms and left Jacaerys for last. She knew he had felt her disregard the last time they met at Laena’s funeral, and she needed to fix it, for Laenor and because finally she had understood what Corlys meant, those poor kids didn’t deserve to suffer for the questionable choices their mother made.

“Grandmother.” The boy said, already tucked in bed, a lone candle as his companion.

“Jacaerys, I wished to bid you goodnight. But before that, may we speak for a moment?” She tried to come across as gentle as possible, the kid looked spooked enough by her request.

“Of course...”

“Do you remember the last time you were here?” She asked, sitting on his bed facing him.

“Yes, it was at Aunt Laena and father’s funerals.”

“Indeed. I have often thought of those days, and I do have to apologize, for I acted unfairly towards you.”

“It’s fine you don’t have to apologize.” Jacaerys was quick to reassure.

“But I do. I was grief stricken and seeing my girls suffer all I could think of was to soothe them and hug them close, that does not mean it was an excuse to forget or exclude you. You were being so very kind and trying to help too, and I should have seen it.”

“It is understandable…” Jacaerys said, looking down and playing with the edge of the blanket.

“It shouldn’t be. You are my grandchild too, Jacaerys, and I do love you, very much, even if I have done a poor job of showing it. It is my hope we can begin anew, so I may show you how truly important you are to me. You, Lucerys and Joffrey.” Fat tears were rolling down her boy’s cheeks and she felt her own start to collect at the edge of her lilac eyes.

“Do you not care if I’m a ba-bastard?” He looked at her, big brown eyes and blotchy cheeks, hands white by how hard he gripped the sheets.

“Perhaps you are, perhaps you are not. Does it matter that much who made you? My son raised you, held you as you cried, played with you, told you bedtime stories, he loved you with all his heart. Would you take the title of father away from him just because you don’t share the same blood?”

“No!” He shook his head through his sniffles.

“There you go, you are my grandchild and that's the end of it.” And with that she could not contain herself any longer and hugged Jace close, hugged him tight until he got every last drop of sadness out. She laid him down and kissed his brow, blowing the candle out for good measure. Before she closed the door a small “Thank you” was whispered into the darkness, one she answered with a warm smile she hoped he could see.

Laenor

Laenor didn't know how they did it but somehow, they convinced the Sealord of Braavos they were harmless and just there to do business. Yes, it had raised a few eyebrows when he introduced himself as Addam of Hull, Corlys' bastard son, mostly because of the business with Laena and the previous Sealord’s son. But surprisingly both him and Aegon had managed to remember their manners and protocol, and with some pleasant words and a lot of over exaggerating on Aegon's part he had gotten himself a contract protecting Iron Bank ships and as for the prince, he had decided to fashion himself a messenger, the fastest in the known world he said. 

They were given a manse on the outskirts of the city, probably so the dragons didn't give the bravosi the fright of their life and to keep them hidden from the general public. As well as servants and a good stipend. Truth is he was quite pleased, he knew they would not turn them away, when someone comes to your door with a weapon of mass destruction and asks to work for you it's better to take the opportunity and not give it to someone else. Still, he had been half expecting a few attempts on their lives that did not come. Maybe the faceless men simply asked for too much money or would not take the job on account of dragons (and the fact they may have made the Sealord believe if they did die their mounts would most probably destroy the city in their grief).

They had adapted quite well, Laenor himself had chosen to dye his white hair traditionally blue, short as it was, and Qarl had insisted on hiring a water dance tutor for himself and Aegon. 

The kid did receive a long letter from his mother back, and then they both established a communication line with merchant ships between Driftmark and Braavos. Turns out no Maesters and no faith also meant no ravens, which did explain why Aegon's messenger position had been so well received. The messages were kept between the sender and the recipient, something everyone in the Free Cities struggled with seeing the men from customs were known for their snooping. And bringing a message with a dragon said way more than with a ship. 

A few months down the line and that mode of communication had popularized so much Aegon was doing periodic runs at the end and start of every month between Braavos, Pentos and Lorath. He had managed to strike a deal between himself and the postal guild of each city to get a 50% of revenue and suddenly he was not only carrying the rare edict but saddles full of letters classified in their respective baggies. Dragon mail they called it, and people very much loved it. How could they not, for a bit more you had your wedding invitation delivered in two days instead of the two weeks you would need otherwise. Plus, having your mail delivered by such a beast was very much a sign of wealth and importance, and that little dragon stamp the postal service used made all the difference. 

Laenor on his part had been thinking on employing the money to buy a boat and hire a crew to embark in trade. His father had made sure to drill into his head all about it, so better put all that knowledge to good use. But for that he would need the prince’s contribution, a partnership if they must. Everything explained the boy still looked at them with a blank stare, perhaps of hesitation or perhaps because there was nothing going on behind those eyes.

“Any further questions?” He asked, hoping to clear anything he might be doubtful of.

“Yeah, how does sex with a man work?” 

“Of our plans, Aegon!” Laenor exclaimed.

"No, no, no we can answer that. Has no one given you the talk?" Qarl asked, firmly gripping his boyfriend’s arm.

"Well yes and no, but no one has given me the guy talk."

"Why are you asking us this, have you ever found another man attractive?" Qarl followed up.

"I mean the bartender from the Golden Stoat was pretty, Ser Arryk was handsome too, he and his brother just joined the king's guard, and no offense but I do get why Rhaenyra preferred Ser Harwin to you, he was pretty neat with his wide shoulders and all."

Laenor looked at Qarl, with eyes that screamed Fuck. His boyfriend sadly was otherwise was occupied with the conversation and thoughts of the late City Watch commander.

"He had a very pretty smile if I remember correctly." 

"And a tight ass."

"Aegon!"

"What it’s true, bet it was rock solid as well." Aegon continued anyway.

"What about women, do you like them?" Laenor was quick to ask.

"Hell yeah, I love pussy!"

"Okay...That's... good... so what part of the talk did they give you?" He tried to reroute, he told himself his enthusiasm and lack of filter was just a product of his age.

"Mother said intercourse before marriage was a sin and bastards were cursed. Father was fonder of practice, he gave me a sack of coin for my fourteenth and told me to go to the Street of Silk and sort myself out. He was pretty drunk though, so I don't know if he remembered it the next day. "

"You went to a pleasure house at four and ten? Alone?" Laenor inquired very much not liking where this was going.

"No, of course not, a couple squires came with, they were older, so they knew the stuff. Truthfully, they were very helpful.” Aegon answered with a chipper tone and a full smile.

“That is wrong on so many levels. Viserys should not have done that, you were a child.” Qarl uttered horrified.

“Did your mother know?” Laenor followed up, although by the nature of the anecdote he could already guess.

“Of course not! She wouldn’t have allowed me to go. Father told me not to tell her either, that it could be a secret between us men.”

Viserys should be thankful he was an ocean away because if Laenor ever saw him again he was beating that husk of a man down to a pulp. Even Corlys had never dared do that to him and he very well knew the old man had the utmost faith the right woman would change his preferences.

Qarl echoed the sentiment. “I swear if I ever see that man again…Your mother was right, you shouldn’t have gone there, you were too young.” 

“But I had a good time, I don’t get why it was wrong.” The prince whined.

“What is wrong is that you were far too young to be going to those sorts of places, much less that your own father encouraged and facilitated it. Is it not upsetting that your first time was with someone you didn’t love?” Laenor carefully explained.

“Better than my own sister… Moreover, the wench was very pretty and very nice, she didn’t laugh or anything.” Aegon insisted.

Qarl was incredulously looking at both of them, so it was clear it fell on Laenor to continue.

“Think about it this way, would you take your brother Aemond to such a place? He must be at a similar age to when you first went.”

“I’ll probably have to. I don’t think he is going to get it wet otherwise, especially with that huge scar on his face and all the ladies at court being afraid of him.” Aegon said shrugging as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“No! That is wrong! You don’t take children there, Aegon. It is not the favour you think it is. Things could have gone very wrong and very badly for you.” Laenor scolded.

“What about a servant? I know one that makes eyes at everyone, that could work…”

“No, once again. First, that poor girl may not even be doing what you think and if you put her in a complicated position, she may end up doing something she is not comfortable with just because she doesn't want to get fired. Secondly, you are a child, and your brother is a child, you may think you know best, but you don’t, sex is a complicated thing and forcing someone to perform it is one of the worst things you can do.” Qarl finished, incensed.

“I’ll have to think of another birthday gift then… By the way, don't change subjects. I still want to know how two men have sex. I’m assuming it’s up the ass but that must hurt a lot!”

Laenor felt like he would very much like to hit his head against the wall until he passed out rather than have this conversation. How much he hated this side of parenting. He was definitely going to find a way to beat Viserys up. He was also going to write to his mother about this, so she kept an eye in case her dear cousin decided to try the same method of parenting twice, perhaps tell her to find a way to tell the Queen what that idiotic husband of hers was doing or something.

Months passed quickly, busy with work and getting used to the new space. They did get that ship and worked in the docks to make sure it was ready for the journey as well. Friends were made, Sunfyre grew by the day and Qarl got himself a cat first and then a couple more. Neither he nor the prince protested, they wouldn’t have been able to anyway, taking into account the house sized lizards they had hanging out in their backyard.

A few letters were also exchanged, and he was happy to learn his mother had hosted all her grandkids in Driftmark without a hitch, and even reassured both of his boys they belonged to the Velaryon family successfully. It made him incredibly happy to read how much they were growing and what kind young men they were becoming, even if it had to be without him. At least Rhaenys had managed to score some extra visits, a week every two months of her going to stay in Dragonstone and two months a year for the kids in Driftmark. He wished he could be there to teach his boys to sail and to show his nieces Laena’s favourite spots, to make the seashell necklaces she so liked to wear and tell the girls the jokes that made Laena snort so loud she sounded like a piglet. It pained him so much that Daemon had always shot down her plans of coming home and that he had been stupidly drunk most days and incapable for getting out of his ass to go and see his dear sister and nieces. Regrets would eat him whole if he kept thinking about it, time could not go backwards and mistakes of the past would stay there. Now all he could do was focus on the present and try to make the best he could from what he had.

It would be a year and three months since the boy had been with them. Now that they had money and a line of communication the young prince was quick to remember a coming birthday of his youngest brother and start to plot to send him something to surprise him. 

Thankfully Aegon was persuaded to buy the rest of his family gifts, it wouldn’t do if he only sent Daeron one for his birthday, even if as Aegon put it, he was his favourite brother. In the end four boxes were loaded in a vessel destination Driftmark with clear instructions to deliver them to Rhaenys so she could send them to their destined recipients.

The sun shone bright and they were happy.

Chapter Text

Aegon had agonized for a whole week thinking of what to send. Daeron was easy to please, he had seen a couple of wooden toys he was sure his brother would enjoy, a spinning top, a sling and a yo-yo. He topped it off with a book about the braavosi water dance and a dragon carved on blue stone. For mother and Helaena he managed to score some silk fabrics, green and deep blue as well as some perfumes. He knew he’d have to send more for his sister, although the idea of sending live bugs was shot down immediately by Qarl.

The market received him with open arms for the many artisans were happy to humour his strange requests as long as the coin flowed. While he looked for a suitable magnifying glass for Helaena and tried to rack his brain to what even send for Aemond, Laenor helpfully pointed out it may be a bit rude to send something to each of his full siblings but nothing to Rhaenyra.

Mother had mentioned how pleased father had been with him avenging his sister's husband, so he reasoned it wouldn't hurt to engrace himself to him a bit more. So, as much as it hurt his pocket, he reasoned some patterned red silk for her would not go down too bad. Worst case scenario she didn't like it (although Laenor had assured him she probably would) and best she made herself a gown and got out of the dreadful black clothes for once.

It hadn't passed much time since he sent the gifts when the Sealord requested he fly up to Volantis to deliver a rather urgent business matter. Laenor believed it had to do with the Iron Bank and some sort of commercial treaty, so he'd probably be welcomed with open arms instead of crossbows. Still, his cousin advised him to be careful and to try and enjoy his stay. Qarl was the most affected of the two, giving him a sword that was supposed to be a surprise for a few months later and a lecture on avoiding strange powders that the Volantine might offer him. He replied that they probability wouldn't be worse than the poppy dust he had sneaked out of father's room and snorted a couple times, which did earn him a playful smack to the back of his head and an order to behave. 

They accompanied him to mount Sunfyre, along with Sealord’s the guards who brought the documents he was meant to carry. Aegon would not leave as it was, being subjected to a couple of big hugs and a little instruction from Qarl of what to do if he got in trouble. He promised to bring them back a little souvenir and to come back soon. 

High in spirits and ready for adventure he took to the skies.

He intended to come back soon, he really did, but things started to derail once he actually delivered the message. 

First the triarchs had to deliberate and write a response, meanwhile he was invited to a couple of banquets and introduced to eligible young women, as if he couldn't see through their intentions. Or as if their sweet wine and their shiny silks would be enough to gain them a dragon.

He found himself frequenting a pleasure house after a rather tiring day withstanding all the attention, and ended up repeating the action a couple more times. Better get his pent up frustration out with whores than with daughters of the local nobility who would hound him down for marriage.

Two weeks later and in a rather quiet afternoon it happened. He was getting his breath back after a rather animated fuck when an old woman entered the room and ordered the whore out. Of course he quickly covered himself and took hold of his purse but the woman did not seem too inclined to try and murder him or rob him, which left him quite confused. 

"Are you the boy with the dragon?" The woman asked.

"That I am."

"And what's your name?" She prodded resting both of her hands in her decorated cane.

"Who wishes to know?" He shot back, still clad in a dirty sheet.

"Clever, but seeing as you are a client in my establishment I would advise you to answer, that is if you don't want me to have you arrested for not paying our services."

"I paid beforehand though." Aegon insisted, not really liking where this was going at all.

"The guards who frequent this place won't care, so?" 

"Aegon Targaryen."

"Easy wasn't it? Get dressed, we ought to talk."

Aegon grumbled but obeyed, the last thing he needed was to get in trouble and cause a political nightmare for Braavos and Westeros. He followed her to a spacious room at the top of the whorehouse, decorated with expensive cloths and furniture alike, colourful and luminous. He assumed this was the main office and she the madame, yet could still not discern why she would take such a bold approach.

"Sit please." 

The woman gestured to a small sofa opposite to hers while a young pretty thing filled two cups of tea. 

"May you tell me your name now, my lady?" He queried hoping to shed some light into the matter.

"All right, just because you asked politely. I am the one they call Saera Targaryen in the West." The woman confessed, a strange tingling in her eye.

That threw Aegon absolutely off, what were the chances! Absolutely unbelievable.

"Wait, are you THE Saera? King Jaehaerys' daughter?" He asked, animated.

"Indeed. And I believe we might be related, which is why I wished to know more of you. Who is your father, boy?" 

"Viserys, the current King."

"Oh, wee Viserys had a son! Well, that's good to hear, my sons told me Aemma was struggling with it when the council happened." She said good natured, swishing her tea. Aegon on his part could not conceive this woman had just called his rotting mummy of a father small. As far as he could remember the man looked as ancient as the ruins he was so obsessed with. He definitely needed to know more.

"Yeah, she was. Died of it actually. I'm not her son though." He gossiped back.

"Oh well, I'm sorry for her loss then. Who's your mother?" 

"Alicent Hightower, the current Queen." Aegon shared solemnly wondering the kind of news that actually reached Volantis, or if any did at all.

"Is she Hobbert's daughter? I do not remember him having any." Saera continued, scrunching her face as if to remember.

"Otto's actually, but she was born way after you left."

"You are Otto Hightower's grandson?! I always knew the little rat longed to put his blood on the throne, should have pushed the cunt down the stairs too when they sent me to Old Town." She laughed. The image of his grandsire rolling down some stairs was certainly funny, perhaps if he dared to hit him again Aegon would employ her technique. See how fierce the man was with a broken hip or something.

"Honestly... you should have."

"Not his biggest fan, are you? I'm surprised he even managed to get it wet, the religious prick."

"Not his biggest fan, no. But he's had a couple sons apart from my mother so grandsire mustn't be as tame as you believed him to be." He explained deciding himself to try one of the grapes the servant had just brought.

"Hah! And what exactly are you doing here instead of fulfilling your princely duties over in King's Landing?" 

"Honestly? I kind of ran away after having a row with my mother. She used to call me Saera reborn again, so I think it’s quite fitting. When I tell her I meet you, well, it’s going to send her reeling." He shared with joy. If anything, they had that in common.

"You write to her then? That's good, I never wrote to mine. I do have a few regrets about that now. Glad to hear you are not following all my bad examples."

Saera was kind enough to invite him back whenever he liked and even offered to introduce him to any of her granddaughters. She had made a fortune and if he ended up marrying any, she assured him he would not miss any luxury from his time as a prince.

Aegon did not doubt that but let her down gently, never before had he thought his betrothal to his sister would come in handy, but here they were. Saera definitely understood, yet reassured him that if he decided to back out her granddaughters would be here, and that they certainly would be more knowledgeable in the intimate matters than a virginal Targaryen princess.

In the coming days the triarchs announced they had their verdict, but they would send it back via boat, as it was proper. He wondered if it was a ploy to keep him in the city longer, yet was happy to humour them. They certainly knew how to treat a prince and his dragon served as a deterrent for the Triarchy and the Basilisk Isle pirates that grew bolder every day. Certainly a win-win situation for all of them. They were nice enough to allow him to send his own message back for Laenor and Qarl, hopefully it would prevent those two to get worried enough and bring Seasmoke for a visit, although since he had written about meeting Saera, he could not rule it out. If he did, at least he hoped Laenor appreciated the irony of all the runaway Targaryen finding each other over in Essos.

In the coming month and as his friendship with Saera grew, she shared many things about her old life, and told quite a lot about her late parents and his own. How much he longed to face Daemon again and ask if he had quelled his sand eating habit. He in turn caught her up to speed with the current events going on in Westeros and their intrafamilial conflict. 

In the third month Saera grew pensive, only breaking her grave demeanour in the second week and asking him for a favour. His great aunt wished to ride Sunfyre with him, to take to the skies once more at least before death finally claimed her. Aegon could not deny her, she had the blood of the dragon even if she had been barred from being bonded to one. 

In the following days they started planning, and like any trip it soon got out of hand. First it was supposed to be a short flight, then Saera mentioned how they could make some money taking merchandise and mail to Mantarys and perhaps spend the night in the quaint city, afterwards the lands of eternal summer were mentioned and the city of Oros somehow came up, just the opposite coast to Old Valyria. And well since they were already there, it would be remiss not to take a peek of the island and its volcanoes, right? From a distance of course.

It was mad, something Saera’s sons were adamant they didn’t do as the dangers were many. Sadly, they were the two people in their family which giving a negative only fuelled their desire to do the thing. If Aegon was honest with himself they were a horrible influence on each other, not only enabling their bad behaviours but encouraging them. That is how they had discovered Saera could outdrink him after all.

Thus, they went. Once Qarl heard of this he would probably skin him alive, but well how could he be blamed, Laenor and him constituted close to 80% of his impulse control and they were certainly not here.

Mantarys was a delight, they were rightfully wary of their mode of transportation, but once the city looked past that they were willing to make some business. Their wine was not great, but their cheese was fantastic, truly. They exchanged goods, gave the mail to the proper authorities and even stayed long enough to listen to some music and see a play.

Oros was not. Aegon could look past the ruined city all right, but he and Saera reached a consensus that the people were most likely evil. They looked at Sunfyre with concealed greed and their demeanour was too suspicious. It was wise not to accept any form of food or drink from them, for Saera was certain they were poisoned. They flew up the coast and elected to sleep in the middle of the fields, far enough not to be reached on horseback for a day at least.

Afterwards came the main event. Straps were tightened, sword was adjusted and Sunfyre was as ready as they come. The smoking sea honoured its name, being misty and darkened by grey clouds. Thankfully the advantages of riding a dragon were that you could just go above the clouds and let the sun guide you, thus avoiding the deadly inconvenience.

They managed to catch sight of land and started their descent, flying over the ruins of what Saera called Tyria and heading south without daring to explore it. If Ores had been sketchy, his great aunt reasoned, Tyria would probably be worse.

The saw the smoke first, an almost impenetrable wall of it, then over the sound of the wind rushing past they could hear the rumble of the roaring Volcanos. Aegon landed in a hill in what he considered would be a safe distance from the mountains. Still, the floor was littered with volcanic rocks and the sounds of explosions only grew louder. Sunfyre was on edge and Aegon could only empathise. Saera shared the sentiment as she quickly rummaged for her telescope and declared they shouldn't stay long. 

While his great out observed the horizon Aegon decided to keep some of the rocks, a souvenir if you will. Who else could say they had Valyrian volcanic rocks after all? Probably not many. Father would certainly be enthusiastic enough about them, could even make something out of them for that model of his. 

When his companion was done with the telescope, she passes it to him and pointed to the interesting things she had discovered. He remembered each volcano was named after a Valyrian God although was not positive which was which, something he would have to research once they were back in Volantis. If only for the bragging rights of telling his brothers he had seen the real Vhagar and Tessarion, that would make them choke on their jealousy for certain. Perhaps for his next gift he could send the rocks and claim they were from those two, it would be a good way to save some coin and give them a unique token they would cherish. But what he found most interesting were the copper and gold domes he could see between the smoke, dark towers standing and glinting despite the rain of ash and magma. It sent chills to his very bones, for they stood against the passage of time and the violence of the eruptions. The legends said they were built with blood and fire magic, once he would scoff at the folk tales, but now that his own eyes were witness to their unnatural shapes and endurance, he could not discard that theory.

His observation ended once the ground started to tremble and a far-off cry resounded over the rumbling volcanos. They were quick to mount an ever-increasing anxious Sunfyre who huffed and puffed in protest. The ground shook an awful thing as his dragon dashed upwards, wings beating with hidden strength and tail swishing through the air. It was Saera the one who called attention to the thing fracturing the ground and following them upwards, as far as its strangely muscular body allowed. Not content with having missed them within its maw it proceeded to breath fire at them, which made poor Sunfyre grow even more agitated and ascend even faster. Of course, they could not have their little exploratory day in peace for the thing just got back into the hole, no doubt waiting for them to fly low enough to ambush them again. He focused on maintaining a level altitude and avoiding any hills as well as the cloud of smoke that the wind decided to redirect towards them, while his great aunt strapped herself to the seat. He would have to go without for now, both hands on the reigns and feet firmly planted onto the stirrups.

Sadly, today seemed to not be their day, because one of the damn volcanos decided it was the perfect moment to start spewing rocks at them. Aegon firmly believed it had to be Caraxes, it would be fitting, an asshole volcano, just like the asshole dragon and its asshole rider.

He had to quickly turn their course towards a canyon to avoid the pyroclastic rain, the gravel ground moving in ripples below, a clear indication of their pursuer. Trying to ascend only made them pierce the thick cloud of smoke and ash, making their breathing difficult and their vision hazy, not something he could afford in their current predicament. Soaring down the path forward was clear, the worm-like thing would ambush them, and they would have to face it or die trying. One of the cliffs faces rumbled and cracked by their side faster than Sunfyre could cut through the air. Knotted fingers dug into his sides with a scream.

“It’s going to burst through!”

The stone cracked and the gravel kept rippling, Aegon had not heard anything about firewyrms hunting in packs, truth is he had not listened very intently to anything to do with Old Valyria at all, something he was starting to regret. Aemond would probably know what to do, father too, but him? He could only hope he was right in his supposition. Sunfyre roared, his wings too stiff. He could feel his blood drum and his dragon start to fall back into his primal urges, that wouldn’t do.

“Dohaerās!” He ordered, they were a team, that is what gave them the advantage over these mindless beings.

Right in front of them the cliff exploded, pieces of rock crashing against them, the wyrm clawed trough the cliffside approaching at great speeds, smaller than the first one, brownish hide contorting with clear might and an open maw full of pearlescent sharp teeth.

He did not hesitate.

“Naejot dracarys!” His dragon obeyed instantly, understanding what he intended without the need of words. Dragon scales were impenetrable by fire, Aegon assumed the wyrms hide might be the same seeing as they lived close to the volcanos. Eyes were not, they melted inside its sockets.

The wyrm cried out, taking a moment to bring the flames forth and breath them everywhere, fruit of its panic. It gave Sunfyre time enough to expose his belly and shield them from the deadly stream. Dragon scales were impenetrable by fire, the leather and iron straps that held their saddle were not. The seat swayed dangerously, and he feared some damage might have been done.

“Pālēs vēzot!” He ordered, noticing their decreasing altitude.

The gravel rippled now in front of them a pit forming in a narrowing of the canyon.

“The other one is coming from behind!” Saera informed him, distraught.

The only way was forward, they would have to properly fight it to pass through.

The wyrm seemed to know it as well, the vortex growing in diameter as they approached, gravel being swallowed into its depths. He knew it’s strategy, as soon as they flew overhead they would be snatched out of the air and dragged below the sand. 

“Keligon!” He blared once they were almost upon it. Sunfyre halted opening his wings widely and shooting upward. The wyrm right in front of them snapped its jaws around thin air, the dragon’s agility proving an invaluable asset. Sunfyre’s powerful claws raked across its hide, leaving deep gouges that oozed a blackish ichor, yet he seemed to not be the only one as his dragon shrieked with pain just the same. Aegon felt cold sweat on his hands and back, his dearest friend was hurt, how much he ignored, yet he had to make him go on despite the pain, they would be firewyrm paste otherwise. They had to circle back before facing the narrowing again.

The creature left a trail of tar like substance on the gravel, claws digging in and body slithering up the left wall, no doubt to propel itself from there towards them. Sunfyre in his panic unleashed fire upon it, but this one knew better and turned its head, long enough for them to manoeuvre away but not to pass through. Ash rained on them like winter snow and the rumbling of the volcanos increased. Did they sense their presence perhaps? 

“Gaomagon aōha ātsio.” He yelled over the boom. (Use your teeth!)

Once again, they employed the same trick of halting just before the thing and thankfully it was deceived once again. Pushing itself forward and crashing into the opposite cliffside. Sunfyre attacked, golden scales mucked by the gravel and the ash, snout covered in inky blood and claws tearing into skin, deep enough for some entrails to fall through the gashes. The wyrm quacked and burrowed itself once more into the rock, a reprieve they used to escape, not daring to look back.

The flight back was quiet, heavy breathing and tension still deeply fixed into his shoulders. Saera, he guessed, must be the same, if only by her clawing hands upon his shoulders and fidgeting. They stopped at a small gulf of the Sea of Sighs, his great aunt wobbly walking and kissing the earth upon dismounting. He had other concerns. His dearest Sunfyre was hurt, from what he could see he had a deep gash on his left hind leg and a shallower one onto his chest. He lured him onto the sandy banks, the salt water would undoubtedly do him good and clean whatever nastiness that thing carried in its claws. He was quick to praise him and pet him, promising him two fat cows once they arrived at Volantis, for his brave dragon deserved it all. That night they curled together, just like they had done the first nights his golden one spent in the dragon pit.

The next morning the broke fast with cheese and water too tired due to their adventure to say much. The saddle he found out was holding just barely, so they would have to fly steady and slowly just in case, and hopefully once back in Volantis some artisans might give it a go at repairing it.

In the end he would stay over for six months refusing to fly Sunfyre again until he was healed enough, delighting himself in sweet wine, beautiful whores and the tales his great aunt told just as his dragon delighted himself in roasted meat and milk. He learnt much of business, bartering and how to play cyvasse. It was a wonderful stay, one he would love to repeat someday. Sans the Old Valyria visit perhaps, but on the other hand, who else could boast about having defeated two firewyrms and lived to tell the tale?

Aemond 

When mother sent a servant to interrupt his lessons and called him to her rooms, he didn't really know what to expect. Had father worsened perhaps? Or mayhaps Helaena had a rather nasty episode and needed her creatures handled? 

The wooden box in the middle of her room was certainly not it. Helaena sat with energy barely contained, going by her light swaying and Mother looked strangely happy. 

He stood there awkwardly for a moment looking intently at the strange box, too out of place in her queenly rooms to be some new furniture. 

"Aemond, come here." His mother beckoned, slowly lifting the lid. 

"What is it?" He asked close enough but not so forward as his sister, who was already peering inside.

"Your brother sent gifts." Was his mother's rather short explanation. And he had to wonder what in the seven hells had Daeron sent in a box so big. Last he checked the most his little brother sent were badly drawn dragons and short letters. 

He only realized how wrong his supposition was when he saw mother take out the silk. Vibrant green and beautifully threaded, truly a work of art, there was no way Daeron might have gotten his little grubby hands on such a thing. No, those were no gifts of his. 

It was Aegon. It had to be. Aegon had sent gifts! 

Mother then took out another silk piece, blue like the sea in the morning and tied with a book, a case and a note that read in bold letters HELAENA at the top. His sister squealed, tearing into it eagerly. Mother hummed in approval saying something about how it was surely prettier than the one Aegon had sent for Rhaenyra. His palms started to sweat once mother got a small box of clinking bottles out. He felt nervous, yet could not bring himself to peer inside. What had Aegon sent for him, he wondered. Would he have even remembered him? And even so, would he have sent something? He wouldn't purposely forget him, right? Even if they weren't on the best of terms when his brother parted, he surely would have sent something for him. Aegon had even sent something for Rhaenyra, so he had to send him something too, for sure. Aemond tried to reassure himself, trying his best to ignore his thumping heart. After examining them and smelling them with closed eyes, an approving smile on her face, mother went back in for more. Breath caught in his throat as another smaller wooden box appeared, this time with the same note on top with a clear DAERON on it. Mother examined it slowly as if to prolong the torture. Were there no more gifts and that is why she was hesitating? He shuffled on his feet looking at Helaena with envy as she examined a magnifying glass with an ivory handle, golden bees embossed on it. 

"I think you might have to help me with this one." Mother remarked, looking puzzled into the box. 

He approached with a faltering step, finally looking inside to see if his fears were true and his brother had indeed forgotten him again. 

The sight of a note with a big AEMOND scribbled on top welcomed him, and with vigour he didn't know he possessed he lifted the heavy book out of the box. It had things on top precariously held together by string, yet he balanced it anyway and gave a brief farewell to his mother and sister, too eager to open it but not wishing to share the contents with anyone yet. If the King’s guard saw him sprinting down the halls, they certainly did not speak of it to others.

Aegon had remembered and had packed it for him, only him! Thus, it felt right to open it alone and in his room. 

Putting it on his bed he was quick to undo the string and examine the small boxes. One clinked, and he hoped his brother had not sent him perfume like he had mother and Helaena, or worse, liquor. The other was silent and slightly muffled. There was a little bag that contained different shaped coins, which he guessed were from different city states over in Essos, and then there was the book. Thick, old, heavy and with an unassuming brown cover. He swallowed and opened the first page, not knowing what exactly to expect. 

What he got was a folded parchment, a letter to be exact. Aegon had written him a letter! Him! He clutched it to his chest for a brief moment trying to calm his nerves and his joy. It wouldn't do to rip it by mistake or to smudge all the ink with his sweaty hands, would it?

Aemond clambered over the bed and opened it with trembling hands. 

Dear Aemond

I hope this letter finds you well and that all my presents have arrived undamaged. I'm truly sorry to have missed your nameday but I did not count with a proper channel of communications yet. Still, I hope these gifts make up for it.

I am in good health and in good company so you mustn't worry for me. Actually, me and Sunfyre (who has grown quite some) have enjoyed flying about Essos and exploring the free cities. I think you would have enjoyed Myr since they seemed pretty smart there. 

I hope you have been faring well in my absence. I also hope you haven't been missing me much, I understand though that the Keep must be pretty boring without me to liven the place up. Has grandsire given you extra work? You can tell him to fuck off, you know? How is training going? I have started to learn the water dance typical of Braavos and I think you might enjoy it, lots of spinning! How is your eye? If the scar still hurts apply the oil I sent twice a day, it numbs the area (make sure you don't rub it in with your fingers). 

I'm afraid it will be some time until we meet again, for I don't have plans of coming back anytime soon. Do take care of mother, Helaena and Daeron for me, you are second eldest after all. 

You may write back once mother does, as it will please me to hear from you. 

Warm regards,

Your older brother, Aegon.

PD: If father gives you coin to go to the Street of Silk take it but do NOT go. I repeat, do NOT go. It's not safe and you are too young. 

PDD: Ask Criston to show you how to shave, you will need it soon.

Aemond reread it once again with a broad smile, his brother wished him to write, to know how he was faring. He didn't hate him! Aegon had even remembered him when he had been in Myr. It saddened him a bit though the fact the eldest refused to return. He wondered what was so special about Essos to abandon his family for it, to abandon him. Was it that special? Truly? 

The book was in High Valyrian, it was about Essosi History, nothing he would have contemplated on his own, not without what it contained. A treasure, a small dedication in the same language of the book and in his brother's chicken scratch, telling him to practice so they could converse in the language once they saw each other again. 

Aemond ghosted his fingers over the words and promised himself he would. He would be the best at High Valyrian, so good that even Aegon would be impressed once he came back. 

The bottle was the oil his brother had promised, smelling of rosemary and thyme. The last box contained a patch, black leather with a soft cushiony interior and equally soft strap from one side, a dragon embossed on it, discrete enough to not be noticed from afar. It looked comfortable and well made, certainly something he could wear day to day. And once again he felt warmth invade his chest at the fact his brother cared enough to send him such a gift.

The only hang up he had was the fact he ignored what his brother had written the rest of his siblings, if he had written at all. Hopefully Helaena would be amenable to letting him read hers, Daeron sadly would be a mystery until his next letter. Perhaps if mother allowed, he could read Daeron’s response and deduce from there what was initially said.

For now, he would focus on writing his own letter, polished and clean, the best letter out of all of them! Thus, Aegon would be forced to respond, surely.

Alicent

Once Helaena had calmed down and coaxed back into her rooms the Queen made preparations to send the small box to Old Town. It was past Daeron's nameday, but she didn't think her youngest would care that much, a gift was a gift after all. 

Afterwards she made an appointment with the seamstress to put all that silk to good use. Once done she walked to her husband's room. It would be necessary to inform him of their eldest exploits after all, regardless of how much she felt he always ignored her. 

Ser Harrold announced her to the quiet chambers. The King barely acknowledged her, too absorbed in his miniatures as he was most days. She sighed and sat beside him, just like she had done as a girl and then a million times more after their wedding. 

Her words would be chosen carefully to hopefully get the man to at least half listen and pretend to care. 

"Aegon has written again. He has sent presents for his siblings. He apologizes as he has failed to procure any for you as his coin ran out after he purchased Rhaenyra's." That made Viserys perk up from his dozing off near that Valyrian model he so loved. 

"Well, I'm glad he is doing well. What did he send?" 

"Some toys and knick knacks for his brothers and silks and perfumes for me and his sisters, green for me, blue for Helaena and I believe red for Rhaenyra."

"Very thoughtful of him, I'm sure Rhaenyra will appreciate it, she was always fond of the colour."

"That she was."

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it Alicent?" Viserys said wishfully.

“That it does.” She answered bitterly.

“It brings me great joy to see this rift in our family start to heal, if I'd known I would have sent Aegon to Essos sooner. Perhaps he would have enjoyed a stay with my brother and his late wife…" The King wondered out loud. 

Alicent would halt her mouth, Viserys would not really care how much his other children missed their brother, for if he did, he would already have noticed, as it was plain to see. Neither would she tell him how many feet under the earth she had to be for him to ever contemplate sending her first born with that homicidal maniac that was his brother. Two wives dead in less than fifteen years, if she hadn't been acutely aware of how Daemon looked at Rhaenyra ever since she turned fifteen Alicent would start to suspect they might turn to be three. No way she was letting Aegon anywhere near that man. 

A week later an in the middle of a rather boring council session one of the Maester’s aids entered with a bow and gave his superior a small roll of parchment.

"A crow from the princess Rhaenyra, your majesty." Maester Mellos relied after reading it over.

"Well, what does it say?" asked the King impatiently. 

"The princess asks you to extend her thanks to her brother, Aegon, for the gifts. And wishes to name her babe in his honour if it's a boy."

Alicent could see clearly through her ploy, acting grateful and conveying it as an honour to her father, but truly just doing it as a dig to her. As if to say that now she also had birthed an Aegon. To undermine her and her son, obviously. 

"Oh wonderful, just wonderful. I'm sure Aegon will be most pleased to hear the news. Has he hinted as when he might be back?" Viserys queried as wilfully ignorant as ever. 

"No, your grace, all I know is that he intended to stay in Essos for the time being." She answered, curbing her dissatisfaction with the news as best she could. Still, even such an insult could be turned into a victory. 

"Shame, I had hoped he might come back soon. Perhaps then Rhaenyra could be persuaded to visit too." Viserys lamented. 

"Indeed, your grace, I'm sure we are all feeling our prince's absence deeply. Perhaps the Queen may share that sentiment with him in her next letter." Otto suggested, weaving his words carefully. 

"Yes, yes, do tell our boy his father misses him. Perhaps he shall be convinced to return that way." Viserys mentioned offhandedly before passing to the next point of the meeting.

But his comment would not be forgotten, for Alicent and Otto were quick to share with the court how much the King missed his first-born son and how much he longed for his return. And when the time came and Rhaenyra named the welp with her son's name, it would be widely known what the brave prince had accomplished for his sister to honour him in such a way. 

Chapter Text

Aegon

“Please tell me that woman did not talk you into doing anything stupid.” Laenor pleaded during dinner. The one they had prepared for him the day he arrived, with his favourite food and some Myrish wine.

“At least tell us you did not get married or father any bastards.” Qarl was quick to add.

“None to those.” Aegon proudly stated, it had been a testament of will, but he was more than sure the wenches at Saera's brothel did take their moon tea religiously.

“Really? You did not do anything you weren’t supposed to?” His cousin insisted, clearly not believing he was capable of staying out of trouble. Sometimes he rued how well Laenor had gotten to know him.

“Well…”

“I knew it.”

“It’s not that bad!” Aegon whined.

“Just tell us, I promise whatever it is I won’t be angry. If it needs fixing, we will find a way.” Qarl intervened, a gentle smile on his face.

“We went to the outskirts of Old Valyria.” He mumbled before shoving a piece of bread on his mouth and looking at his plate.

“Aegon! You are so grounded!” Laenor exclaimed, raising from his seat.

“Lee, we promised we wouldn’t be angry. Out of everything he could have done, a bit of sightseeing is not so bad.” Qarl tried to reason, managing at least to seat his partner again.

“Exactly!” He said mouth still full, and more than happy he didn't have to defend himself alone.

“You promised not to be angry, I did not do anything of the sort. And, as Aegon very well knows, going to old Valyria is forbidden, punished by pain of death. It is bad! Very bad!” His cousin asserted, clearly very pissed off.

“But I didn’t go to Old Valyria! We stayed out of the volcano ring, saw it from a distance.”

“You could have gotten what ailed princess Aera, do you not have any thought behind those eyes?” He would admit deserving the poke on his brow. Truly Aegon had forgotten all about that story until now, Sunfyre would never do that to him so why keep it in his mind at all, he had more important things to think about than the stories his father told about a dragon he had ridden a total of one time. 

“Saera thought it would be educational.” He countered.

“Saera tried to marry three men, then failed to steal a dragon and ended up becoming a whore in Lys. I’m sorry if I don’t think she sets the best example to follow. In time of war, I would have you clean our ships decks until your hands bled.” Laenor threatened.

“But since we are not you will let it go just this once?” Aegon asked, hopeful and with a trembling smile.

“No, you are obviously grounded, no taverns, no parties and dock work from sunrise to sundown for a week.”

“Qarl, you’ll really allow him to treat me like this?” He pouted putting on his best puppy eyes.

“It’s out of my hands, kid.” 

At that time, he knew he had lost, abandoned by his only ally.

“Well just for your information, I fought two firewyrms and won!”

“Two weeks!”

"Come on!"

There was a package from Westeros waiting for him in his room, one he tried to ignore for the whole of a week. He was too anxious to open it, mother had mostly been pleasant in her letters if not a bit demanding.

Where are you? Who are you with? And of course, the dreaded, when are you coming back? Were all questions he had been successful in squirting until now. But a package? That was new. He understood it was most likely a response to the one he sent, yet it still inspired in him dread. A pit of emotion in his stomach that made him want to leave the room if he looked at it too long.

It had taken him a week and three cups of beer he had managed to sneak in, for Aegon to finally get the courage to open it.

As expected, there was a long letter from his mother and a most beautiful copy of The Seven Pointed Star, of fucking course. At least she also sent new reigns for Sunfyre which did account for his growth, although perhaps a bit too much. His golden beauty had gotten bigger, but he was no Dreamfyre still.

A green cape, some honey (probably Helaena's doing) and a small bottle of Arbor Red which was more than greatly appreciated.

Unveiling the gifts did make an idea pop into his head. Laenor had been most bothered by the idea of him being executed upon his return, which both himself and Qarl had assured him would not happen. First and foremost, he was the son of the King, Viserys had forgiven Daemon much worse things than skirting Old Valyria with their aunt. Second his mother would smother the old man in his sleep if he even thought of it, and third, father absolutely loved Old Valyria (Aegon did heavily suspect he had claimed Balerion with the hopes the black thing might actually take him there to see it in the flesh, but alas a weak rider makes a weak dragon and it had died).

Nonetheless Aegon had a plan and enough rocks for everybody. Father would be most pleased by his excursion, and he would definitely not be executed. Laenor on his end had his doubts a pile of volcanic rocks would solve his problem, yet he did not dissuade him. Viserys was his father not Laenor's, thus it would stand to reason Aegon would know better how to ingratiate himself to the King. Right?

Letters read, responses crafted and Daeron's drawing hanging from his wall he went about packaging everything to be sent. Valyrian rocks of course, a board of cyvasse for Aemond on top of his rock, accounting on his upcoming nameday, a nice gold ring with a spider for Helaena, jade earrings for both mother and her and a small bag of saffron worth more than anything in that damn box.

And of course, the most nerve-wracking thing to pack. A letter to his lord father, explaining the expedition and giving him well wishes from Aunt Saera, who swore to this day to guard the secret of what happened to Queen Alysane's favourite pouch. The letter might be a bit dry and definitely too formal, but in the end, he hoped Viserys could appreciate the detailed information he sent and not be too mad with him.

Laenor on his part would send some goods to his own mother as well as one of the rocks, if only to thank her for helping out and keeping both their secrets.

What followed was another week of intense hard work on the docks, pain only alleviated knowing it was their ships the ones he was cleaning. Now they owned two, medium sized but intrepid enough to sail from Braavos to Lys if necessary. 

At the end of the month, he did his dragon mail run and got another assignment by the Sealord. A message to Tyrosh, a rather urgent one at that.

Thankfully the message had been well received and the response had only taken two days to craft. In that time he had explored, their tongue was not quite Valyrian but if they spoke slow he could understand some of it which most people were kind enough to do. The streets were colourful and the people boisterous, eager to get to know him and show him the sights, like the imposing Bleeding tower or the Fountain of the drunken god, both of them beautifully sculpted and detailed of white marble with reddish veins.

But when it came time to head back home, he hesitated, just for a moment, for he knew the hell that awaited him. Not because of the Sealord’s reaction, but because he had gotten drunk and decided the funniest thing in the world would be to dye his hair as blue as Aemond's sapphire. Which yes, Laenor was also sporting blue hair, but it was a very light blue green and it was done out of his need to hide, on the other hand he woke up sporting a bright dark blue which would probably not come off on its own. Laenor was definitely going to kill him or laugh at him. And he didn't know which was worse.

Rhaenyra

"Unbelievable"

Daemon wasn't one to huff and puff quietly as he was doing, the letter from King's Landing clearly having shaken him. Rhaenyra felt herself stiffen, her fifth pregnancy quite advanced, the last thing she needed was for the greens next plot to descend upon them.

"What it is my love? what has driven you to such a state?" She asked fearing the worst.

"Viserys, he has! and your brother! Treasonous bastards, both of them!" Daemon raged, throwing the letter onto the table.

Her blood froze, could it be she wondered, that father had finally tired of her and named Aegon heir? He would have told her, she reasoned. But with her father's continued decline who knew what the green wench might have convinced him of doing.

"Rhaenys as well, and those other whelps you call half-brothers! They laugh at us, treat us like lepers!" Her husband continued. The mention of her cousin increasing her nervousness. It was true Rhaenys and her brother had gotten close after avenging Laenor, but close enough to betray them and her grandchildren?

"Daemon, be forward with it, whatever it is I can take it. But we can't hope to solve this if I remain ignorant to it."

"Aegon crossed the Smoking Sea, he travelled close to the ruins of Old Valyria and sent rocks coming from the Volcanoes surrounding it as presents. One to Viserys, one for each brother of his and one for Rhaenys. According to my brother they are most likely from Tessarion and Shrykos, but there is also the probability of them coming from Caraxes, Meleys and Vaghar."

She could not help it, her husband's pinched face, red with fury was too much for her, she burst laughing in a most undignified manner.

"All the hysterics for some rocks?" She managed to speak through her mirth. Rhaenyra was thinking of betrayal and plots against her, and Daemon was upset because of rocks! Rocks! It had truly made her morning. But Daemon was certainly not appeased, on the contrary, his tantrum got worse.

"It's not only that Aegon failed to send me one, as he should have, especially if it came from Caraxes. I wrote to Viserys and Rhaenys and both of them refuse to send any for me to examine. Not only that, but they also told me I will only be allowed to see them if I visit their homes!"

Her husband fumed walking like a caged dog from one wall to another. His diatribe would not be stopped no matter how much she tried to conceal her laughter with her hand and look supportive.

"Viserys has three and he refuses to send me any! He writes that Aemond only has allowed him to briefly see his and he had no chance of seeing Daeron's. But he is the king, why would he need to ask for permission? Those Hightower mutts probably don't even know what they have." 

"Daemon, they are just rocks. Aegon has sent presents before, he doesn't know you like he knows them. He probably just didn't think to send us any, not to slight us, but because he ignores your passion for Valyria."

"It's our legacy, Rhaenyra! One of the only things we will ever have from our home. And that whelp has refused to share it with us. Him and all the others! It's an insult of the highest calibre!"

"Husband, you need to calm down, no one is insulting us for not sending rocks over, much less presents that are not meant for us."

"It's a plot of those Hightower cunts to undermine us, to make it seem we are not important enough to be sent remains of the Valyrian Empire."

"There is no plot. Aegon is what, seven and ten? Eight and ten? He has known you two days out of all those years, how would he know this would offend you? I'm sure if the rocks could have come from Syrax, Vermax, Arrax or Tyraxes he would have sent us some. But if it will appease you, I could write and ask if he has any left for you?"

To be honest that is the last thing she wanted to do. The fact Aegon had sent silk for her, good quality silk at that, had been strange enough. In her heart she wished that out of Alicent's claws her brother might have come to his senses and understood supporting her was the right thing to do. That trying to forge a relationship with her was an indication of his changing loyalties, or at least a way to indicate he considered her family too. To write to him for the first time, especially to ask for a gift for her husband? It might be too impertinent and burn the tentative olive branch he was extending. 

"No, I shall examine Rhaenys' the next time we send the children over." Daemon finally concerned, defeated yet still visibly upset.

Her giggling continued even after her husband left irate. Rocks. He was so very mad over not seeing volcanic rocks, living next to a volcano in a volcanic stone castle. The irony of it and the mirth it brought would not abandon her for the whole day.

Aemond

I miss you, he wanted to say. It's lonely without you and it's about to become worse with Helaena leaving. Please come back, I don't want to be alone, he longed to write. But shame and fear won in the end, hiding those feelings deep inside, denying his brother even the chance of laughing at him because of his childish whining.

Dear Aegon

I am well, mother says I'm as tall as you were when you left. Sword training is also going well, Ser Criston has been teaching me advanced stances. I have been studying High Valyrian as you requested and I’m growing more proficient by the day, Vhagar is most pleased with it as well and no longer hesitates to follow my commands. Grandsire only means well and although demanding I welcome the opportunity to educate myself.

How is Sunfyre and how much has he grown? Do you think it’s the new diet or the new nest?

Daeron remains in Oldtown and Helaena shall soon begin her tour. Stop fooling around and come back soon.

Yours truly, Aemond.

PD: Thank you for the gifts, the oil has helped, and the patch is comfortable.

PDD: Stay out of trouble, mother is worried enough as it is.

Seven months without a response, it hadn't been that long without news from his brother since he had resurfaced. Usually, it was a small letter every month or a longer one every two. Had something bad befallen him? And what if that was the case, would they ever know of his fate? An ocean away was too far for the King's influence to reach and even him with Vhagar wouldn't know where to begin. Or had it been his letter? Was it so bad Aegon had decided not to write anymore? It was truly a coincidence like mother said? The first time he wrote back and his brother stopped sending mail? He wished to believe it so but that horrible voice at the back of his mind did not see it as such.

Then a parcel from his brother arrived, and the seven hells were unleashed upon them.

Mother and Helaena received normal gifts, jewellery and spice, yet for him, Daeron and strangely Father wooden boxes awaited. Upon noticing the letter to the King attached to the gift mother quickly dismissed them to their rooms and prepared herself to meet with him.

Aemond thanked the situation, speeding to his rooms, curiosity gnawing at him. The game of cyvasse was quickly discarded over his table while the box was carefully deposited over his bed. He opened it slowly just to find a bundle of cloth, which he unwrapped carefully to reveal…a rock. Volcanic and very very dark, the smell of sulphur apparent. It was certainly a choice, a strange one for sure, he thought, feeling a bit let down. Underneath rested the letter which he hoped might shed some light in the matter.

Dear Aemond, 

I'm sorry for my delayed response. I know you must be a bit surprised by the rock, but I beg you not to discard it just yet. If you must know, I flew close to Old Valyria with our great aunt Saera and retrieved some remnants of our ancestral home to send. This one may come from the Vhagar itself, and I thought you might appreciate having a part of your dragon's namesake.

Sunfyre and I engaged in our first battle as well, thankfully we emerged victorious against the two firewyrms that attacked us in the peninsula. He also acquired his first battle scars, but they are healing well. I think it’s a combination of both, perhaps he will grow even larger now that he has tasted firewyrm blood.

There are many adventures to be had and many places I have yet to visit so you will have to await my return a bit longer.

Warm regards,

Your older brother Aegon

PD: Great aunt Saera told me Uncle Daemon used to eat sand as a child and once made himself so sick he puked right onto King Jaehaerys' lap. Do with this information what you will.

Although a bit sad at his brother's continued refusal to come back he let a chuckle escape at the mention of Daemon. Hopefully he would not see him anytime soon or he may yet laugh in his face.

The day though was not yet done surprising him, as the King summoned him to his room before dinner, well, him and his rock.

Mother was eerily absent, not there to disperse the tension that would undoubtedly arise. He had done his best to avoid being in a room with the man since Rhaenyra's bastard took his eye, for he could not forget nor forgive the King's dismissal of his pain. It seemed like the King felt as equally awkward as he did though, which he was grateful for.

“Come closer, my son”.

“Your grace, is something the matter?”

“I've heard you have something quite remarkable and I wanted to see it, the volcanic rock your brother sent you, that is.” The man wheezed out.

“How does his grace know about that?” He inquired, paranoid for a moment that he was being spied on in his own bedchambers, after all it had only been a few hours since he had unveiled his brother’s gift and he had yet to mention it to anybody.

“He sent me one as well, a true adventurer he has become, hasn’t he? Aegon mentioned it came from one of the northeastern volcanos, although my best guess would be Tessarion.”

“Aegon told me it came from Vhagar, that he fought two firewyrms to get it.”

“It could as well, if the explosion was violent enough, although he neglected to mention the firewyrm part…” The silence that followed was oppressive but not painful enough to welcome the King’s next words, he felt small once again under his father’s penetrating stare. “I'm curious to see it. Would you show it to me?”

“If he sent one for you then what interest could you find in mine?” He asked hoping the King would send him away, he didn’t want that man to touch his present.

“Aemond. Please, humour an old man.”

It pained him to take it out of the pouch and give it to the man, but at the end of the day Viserys was the King and he could not refuse him. 

“He sent one for Daeron and Rhaenys I heard.” His father rambled, putting the rock next to his adored model and examining it with a magnifying glass, the same he had refused to lend Helaena two years ago.

“Perhaps.”

“Do you think the boy would be amenable to-”

“Mother already sent the box to Oldtown, so perhaps his grace can ask the next time he visits.” He cut him off. Mother hadn’t done it yet, as they would also like to send their own letters, but it’s not like his failure of a father would know. And if he wanted to see it so desperately then maybe he would finally send for his brother and bring him back, as mother had begged him to do for the past two years.

“Of course.”

Once the King seemed done with his examination he grabbed the stone quickly, the King reacting and grabbing a corner as well. Aemond would not let him keep it, it was a gift from Aegon, one that came from Old Valyria and the Vhagar itself, if he let him, his father would end up destroying it further and putting it in that ugly model of his for sure. 

In turn he was involved in a small and polite tug of war with his father, neither willing to give up the rock. Yet Viserys was missing an arm while Aemond only had lost an eye, so at five at ten he was strong enough to whisk his gift away from his father's grubby hand.

Although clearly annoyed by his loss, Viserys didn't seem done with him, a fact that spelled trouble. His skin itched just being in his presence as if the rotting smell wasn’t hard enough to bear on its own.

"I believe it is time for you to become a man. For your name day there is a pouch of coin, so you may have some fun in the Street of Silk." The man whirred with a complicit smile that clearly didn’t reach his eyes.

Aemond accepted the pouch with severity. "Thank you, father, I appreciate the coin although I will have to pass on the excursion."

"How come? Are you planning to become a septon or are the rumours true. You know what they say about you, don’t you boy? That you prefer the company of squires that of the gentler sex. Even your brother accepted, and he was younger than you." His father's distaste of him had never been clearer, and as much as Aemond had tried to bar his heart against him, it still hurt. He had heard people talk behind his back, but he had also heard the ladies' horrified gasps when they caught sight of his scar. Was Viserys' solution to send him out to the dangerous city just to prove a point? So, his reputation wasn’t besmirched because of a son he didn’t even care about? 

"It was him who prevented me against it, and I trust his word." He answered calmly, trying not to let his hate show.

"You trust a brother who has left you behind before your own father?" He knew what that statement was designed to do. But he wouldn’t even contemplate it, in itself it was laughable, Aemond thought. Aegon might be a whore loving drunk who was an ocean away, but he would trust him a thousand times over the excuse of a man he had in front of him in any situation. So, if his father wanted to play this game he would oblige.

"Does his grace not trust his own brother? For I believe we might not be so dissimilar in that aspect."

"It is not the same." Viserys declared.

"True, at least Aegon bothers to write back to me and inquire about my doings." Aemond bit out, venom in his voice and a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Do have some respect boy, I am still your King."

"Then my King would be most aware that respect is earned not freely given. Or will his grace threaten to torture me again just for stating the truth?" His fists clenched as he pronounced the last words. They were had enough for his father to avert his eyes, and for the first time he saw him clearly. He was taller and stronger than him, healthier too, if not because of Ser Harrold at the door it would have been easy to beat him to a pulp. His father was a withered old man, and he was the one towering over his seat this time.

“I believe that is enough boy, you are dismissed.”

He bowed and left, rock inside his pouch and anger thrumming on his veins. He would train to get it out, but first he would tell mother about their talk and about what Viserys had wanted him to do in the Street of Silk. 

Chapter Text

Viserys

His peace had certainly been perturbed after the arrival of Aegon's letter, usually the hysteria his wife suffered would pass after a few days and she would be back to being her dainty dotting self, as it should be. 

He would admit though it was the second time the boy proved useful. The first time it was by delivering the finishing blow to Laenor's killer, which hopefully would bring closure to his dear daughter and grandchildren and disperse those nasty rumours about her and Daemon being involved with it. And now he had embarked himself on an impromptu exploration voyage to their ancestral land, bringing him tokens and information he greatly appreciated.

Sadly, the other one proved to be a disappointment yet again. He had thought the boy would have snapped out of that snivelling personality he used to have once he claimed Vhagar, alas their family had not been so fortunate. The boy remained as spoiled and ungrateful as ever. Viserys was very aware it was a direct consequence of Alicent’s coddling, first because of his early birth and then because of the eye mishap. He knew he should have put a stop to it, but even he would admit his heart had grown soft and weary with time.

And now he found himself with a back talking brat who refused to extend a kindness to his lord father and denied his own nameday presents. Worse, after their discussion he had gone straight and tattled to his mother. No wonder his son and grandsons refused to play with him, the boy was a snitch.

Alicent had come afterwards, as furious as a dragon. She accused him of trying to poison her sons, to ruin them and drown them in vices. She had even gone so far as to order him and his queer customs to keep away from Aemond, which he was already planning to do either way. Viserys knew not to take it to heart, for Alicent was too pious a woman. Thus, he would not blame her for her words, as she could not understand his reasons, for this was a matter of men, not one that should ever reach the delicate ears of a mother. 

Sometimes Viserys got the urge to send everyone to the seven hells. He would keep his sweet daughters by his side, of course, and perhaps Aegon once he came back, the rest he would kick onto the streets, see how much they liked it then. He huffed and puffed in the silence of his empty room feeling the incipient headache coming just as well as his annoyance growing.

In that state of frustration, the words of his second son repeated ominously through his head, thus he wrote to Daemon. His brother may still refuse to write back, but at least he could taunt him with his new acquisition and rub in his face the feats his son had accomplished. A feat he very well knew Daemon had always longed to enact. Naturally doing his due diligence in informing him Aunt Saera still remembered his sand eating habit to this day, and so did he.

The atmosphere at the Keep was tense on the following days, awfully boring as well. A man could only hear about ship problems and unending preparation for his youngest daughter's tour so many times. He’d even had second guessed his decision to allow a tour for Helaena to even take place, the urge to just bid her to wait for her older brother and not send her to the undoubtedly lecherous lords of the realm ever growing. Alicent had also proven to be cold, and mostly delegated his care to servants and Maesters, whose rough treatment and impersonal attitude he did not enjoy.

Making amends was paramount, without involving the brat of course, he would not apologize for trying to do him a favour. Thankfully he knew exactly a way to get into his wife's good graces again.

"Write our son in my stead Alicent. Tell him the King commands him to return to Westeros. He has pushed aside his duties for too long." He told her once Otto left his room and the matters of the Council he had not attended, yet again, were settled.

"What duties would those be? As you have repeated many times, Rhaenyra is the heir and he is just the spare." Alicent contested, crossing her arms in defiance.

"Ehm...The council of course, he … must attend it and learn for the good of the realm." Finished Viserys, self-satisfied by his quick thinking.

"Right of course. And this has nothing to do with that drawing of their view of Old Valyria he mentioned having, right?" Alicent asked, piercing him with her doe eyes.

"Not at all…of course not…I would just like him to return, to see my son again, that's all…" He still lamented the way his dear wife managed to read him like an open book, and although reconciliation was on the forefront of his mind, he would not deny that drawing interested him also.

"I'm sorry to say, husband, that he will not listen to me. I have pleaded for his return in every letter, and he steadfastly refuses in every response. Write to him yourself and he might listen, if not to his father to his King." It may not be an order, but he appreciated the chance she was affording him either way, taking it eagerly and hoping to have his loving wife back soon.

"Of course, yes, I shall."

"Good, I will fetch parchment and ink then husband. It is after all better to do things sooner rather than later."

Writing letters was never a task he enjoyed, that's what he had Otto for, alas, his son and wife were more than acquainted with the style of the Hand so he would have to take the task upon himself.

Aegon

Letters were waiting for him at his return from his Dragon Mail journey. Aegon had always delighted in guessing the contents of the letter, the sender easy to predict due to the uniqueness of the seal. Mother used red with a simple crown at the center, Aemond used a simple black without much else, Daeron clearly borrowed uncle Gwaine’s green wax and sigil and Helaena liked to surprise him with white or blue wax and pressed flowers to match. 

What he had on hand was neither of those things. Red wax with a Targaryen seal coloured in gold, Aegon felt like throwing it out without even reading it.

It was more than clear the King had written, he hoped it was perhaps a brief thanks for his gift, but he had yet to speak to the King without it being a reprimand since he was seven, so he did not expect much.

To delay the inevitable, he left it over his desk, busying himself with reading the other letters and crafting a suitable response. Their ships were gone for the month so thankfully he was spared dock work, Laenor and Qarl though would not let him idle for long, which they said would keep him out of trouble and he had to grudgingly agree (especially after bedding the daughter of one of Norvos magisters in his latest trip and being banished from the city).

The letter remained untouched for six days until all his letters were written and sealed, only then did he find the strength to read whatever the King had sent for him.

His father, as always, proved disappointing, although this time Aegon swore to himself the King would not get his way. No, Aegon would not give him the satisfaction. If he wanted someone to attend the council, he could summon Rhaenyra or make Aemond his cupbearer (although from the tone of his and mother's last letter he didn't think that would go very well), but not him. Viserys had already made more than clear he was to be kept away from the crown's affairs at all times, yet now that Aegon had something he found interesting he decided to write? As if!

The problem of course was that he was already in hot waters with the whole almost visiting Old Valyria under pain of death fiasco, so he couldn't exactly disobey a direct order from the King. Even if that King was his father and he was an absolute asshole. So, he needed to obey without directly doing so. Piece of cake, finding loopholes was his speciality!

Sadly, his adoptive parents did not agree with his brilliant plan.

“No, not a chance, you are not going.” Laenor determined, looking at him as if he had lost his mind.

“But hear me out-” Aegon insisted.

“No, I said no!”

“Aegon it's a stupid idea, one of the stupidest I've ever heard.” Qarl interjected.

“Go to my mother, she will be glad to have you in Driftmark.” Laenor proposed rubbing his temple.

“And when father gets wind of that and summons me to King's Landing, then what? No, I need a place he can't summon me back from, don't you understand?”

“So, your solution is to get into a war?” Qarl asked, incredulous.

“With my father, might I add, and I assure you he is equally as bothersome as yours.”

“Well Qarl and you met in the Step Stones perhaps I shall meet the love of my life there.”

“Or perhaps you shall meet death, Aegon.” Laenor told him gravelly.

“I’m a man grown, I can make my own decisions.” He protested.

“One of your last decisions was to try and ride the Sealord’s pet elephant so I don’t know what kind of decision making you are boasting about.” Qarl deadpanned.

That statement about his lack of judgment more than ended the conversation for Laenor and Qarl.

They were more than aware of their charge’s wild ideas and extreme reactions that only landed him in more trouble than what he had begun with. They were not entirely happy with the notion of having Aegon return to King’s Landing and much less with the knowledge it put him at the mercy of his very untrustworthy father. However, they hoped that a solution presented itself to them in the days coming. Driftmark as Laenor had said was a good option, his mother would keep Aegon safe and he was sure she would welcome the company, Qarl on his end also pitched Oldtown as a good destination, surely able to satisfy both the King and Queen. Dragonstone had also been pondered on in the privacy of their room, but although Laenor was certain Rhaenyra would treat her brother fairly neither man could ensure Daemon would not orchestrate an unfortunate accident to take the boy out of the picture.

Aegon may be at the other side of the sea, but he was still very much the boy who had cut his hair and taken his dragon to explore what the world had to offer. Just because a figure of authority told him no didn't mean he would necessarily obey.

In the following days he slowly bundled up some of his leathers, food, drink and weapons before scurrying to Sunfyre into the night with nothing more left behind than a goodbye letter. He felt a bit bad leaving like that after everything that they had been through, but he knew Laenor would have followed him with Seasmoke if he had made them aware of his plans. Aegon wasn’t one to besmirch dragons, but even he would admit the grey one would use his superior size to bully Sunfyre back home and sit on him for who knows how long.

As Laenor had suggested he'd visit Driftmark first and send word to his mother about his intentions of joining the war in the Stepstones (which would upset her greatly but what can you do, she would certainly be more upset if he didn't tell her anything). Then once the Velaryons informed him about their war plans he would fly to wherever Lord Corlys was docked. 

He knew the Sea snake was not idiotic enough as to reject a dragon despite them being in theoretically opposing factions. Mother hadn't been kind the times she had mentioned the man, describing him as a power-hungry captain who refused to accept his station and could never let go of his house being passed over by the people of the realm. Laenor might not have been that harsh, but he always spoke of his father as ambitious, obstinate and a bit egotistical.

Which was perfect for Aegon, if they were to be believed, and he was more than sure they were, he could just butter the old captain up and use his stubbornness to his favour. Moreover, once the news reached his father, he would be unable to summon him back, after all that would reflect quite poorly on the crown, especially after failing to retain control of the Stepstones. And if he tried anyway, he was sure he could use Lord Corlys to butt heads with the council in his stead.

Aegon had already fought against two firewyrms and won, how hard could a war really be?

Alicent

A month later a merchant boat would bring a letter for Queen Alicent, who upon reading its contents would grow white as flour and need the help of scented oils in order to recover her vigour. Her hands would tremble and she would swear her vision doubled on those fatidic words for a moment. 

Her ladies in waiting queried her about the text but all the Queen did was clutch the parchment against her chest and try to regain her breathing. Not a word left her lips before she parted to the King’s chambers, her shoulders tensing and her worry giving way to fury as she advanced through the halls, the only witness to such a worrisome transformation being her trusted Ser Criston. For a moment he contemplated asking his loyal guard for his sword, but she very well knew Ser Harrold would more than likely be guarding her lord husband, as he would not approve of any harm being inflicted on the King. Not even hitting him a bit with the back of the sword just as particularly rowdy squires were.

There was no announce of her entry, her heavy skirts dragging on the floor as she contemplated regicide for the second time that day at the sight of her incompetent husband. The sight of him, so unbothered playing with his stupid model as if he was a child brought bile to her throat, the news she brought burning in her chest as if her whole heart was aflame.

"A letter arrived from our son, did you know?" She said, advancing towards the King’s side. Her rising temper not entirely concealed by her sweet voice.

"I believed I ordered him to come back, did I not, has he refused yet again?" Viserys asked absentmindedly, not even having the decency of looking at her instead of that stupid model.

"Oh no no no. He is in Westeros just as you commanded." Disdain coloured her voice, her nails biting into her palms, a last measure to contain the incipient violent acts she more than wanted to enact.

"Well, we might have dinner together then!" The fool exclaimed too joyful for her taste.

"No, we won't, you ordered him to come back to Westeros but failed to specify where in Westeros. So now MY son is in the Stepstones fighting a war alongside Lord Corlys!" The Queen chastised, rage brimming in her brown eyes. She begged the Mother to give her patience because if the Warrior gave her strength she would probably be arrested for high treason.

"Alicent ..." The sight of Viserys’ regretful eyes made her recover her composure, she very well knew by now what that meant, what he tried to convey. She was no longer a naive child who would fall for all her husband’s excuses, she had grown, and she was all too aware of how the King deluded himself into believing his innocence and his lack of fault in any and every situation, and she was above falling for it.

"I'm sorry for raising my voice, your grace. But as you can see, I'm quite agitated at the moment, for I have just received news that my son is in a war because his lord father failed to properly tell him to return home."

"Wife-"

"I am in no state to attend to you today I'm afraid, perhaps I shan’t be able to do so until my nerves recover from this torment. Good day." He left him there mumbling unspoken words and looking at her with the same pity inducing eyes. Alicent though had no more pity left, not for him, not while he dared mistreat her sons so.

She strode to her rooms full of fury still and promised herself that if news of her firstborn's death ever touched her door, she would drown that disgrace of a man she called husband in his own bath, treason be damned.

Chapter Text

Corlys Velaryon

The days were long and hard, death claimed many and melancholy had started invading the rest of his men. Almost three years had gone by reclaiming inch after painful inch out of the Triarchy’s hands. The end still not in sight and his coffers depleting with every passing day. He refused to beg for scraps from the king nonetheless, Otto Hightower ruled in his name once again, and he was more than aware the man would deny him if only to watch his house drown in debt. And so, the war stalled, their naval prowess evenly matched as was their men’s eroded resolve.

Truly he was extremely peeved, and if he was honest with himself, it felt more like a fever dream than reality. A vision perhaps brought by fatigue or utter desperation, for it could not be true, could it? A sentiment his men and even the Tyroshy fleet shared. They all stood there awestruck as the golden beast circled their position and started its descent. Its scales shone bright with the midday sun as if it were made out of coins freshly minted, as out of place in the rugged battle camp as the blue haired boy that strutted, yes strutted, towards them after dismounting the dragon. He had to do a double take at the sight, only managing to speak a confused “Who..?” out.

“Aegon.” The boy waited a moment but after his lack of reaction he cleared. 

“King Viserys’ first born son? Your daughter in law's brother? Rings any bells?”

“I know who you are, I meant to ask who sent you.” Corlys tried to manoeuvre in hopes of not exteriorizing his utter confusion.

“Your wife, or I guess, my father. He told me to come back to Westeros, so here I am!” The boy answered uncharacteristically cheery.

“I see, are you here to deliver a message then?” He asked, his confusion mounting. Was this another of Otto's moves perhaps?

“Indeed, cousin Rhaenys sends her regards, and a very angry letter. I'm also here to join the campaign, obviously.”

“You? Join us?” He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Surely this was a jest, perhaps his wife was hidden behind some rocks waiting for his reaction to laugh at him.

“I can wield a sword, help with the ships and I have a battle ready dragon. It's basically a bargain.” The princeling boasted, hands on his hips.

“You are as green as your mother's dresses, boy.” The prince’s exploits had passed through the seven kingdoms like wildfire conquering hearts and support, all thanks to well spent Hightower gold on bards and storytellers, a similar strategy King Jaehaerys had used to establish the doctrine of Targaryen exceptionalism. Perhaps this was another of the Hand’s plays to uplift him in the eyes of the lords.

“It's your highness to you, thank you. And cousin Rhaenys told me to remind you at what age you brought your son into an active conflict. I believe it was sixteen, fifteen? He hadn't been knighted yet, that's for sure.”

“What is it that you want?” 

“To help your war effort, so we may take control of the Stepstones back, of course! And you to tell my father I'm back in Westeros and too engaged in matters of war to return to the capital.” The boy explained with a very telling smile.

Of course, what else, the kid wanted him to write to his daddy on his behalf. If he had a silver stag for any time a Targaryen who was avoiding Viserys decided to fight for him just not to obey and return to the capital, he would have two silver stags. Which was not that much coin but was weird enough that it happened to him twice.

At least he could rest easy with the knowledge no plot was at hand besides a boy squirting his lord father's command, and yet it would end up benefiting the green’s cause regardless. He had no doubt about the fact Otto would use this to elevate his grandson over Rhaenyra, for if their positions were reversed he well knew he’d do the same. Worse, to keep the boy would cast doubt on his allegiance to the princess, especially within his house where discontent was festering. Killing him would make him a martyr and cast the blame over him and his house, as the boy had come without the King’s approval, and what many would say due to his wife’s persuasion.

A perfect play if he had seen any, one he could not refuse, for if he did the King would take offense and his own house would be drained by the war.

There was nothing he could do but try and get the most out of it while it lasted.

Corlys didn't wish to admit it at first but the truth of it was that Aegon grew on him, like a tumour or an infection, making his blood boil more often than not. Yet as strange as it was, he had found a kindred spirit in the young prince. There weren't many people who felt the stagnation their little world forced on them, who longed to explore the far reaches of their earth and to learn all the wondrous secrets it held. And certainly, there were even less who had actually braved the trip and reached even the start of the Summer Sea. 

The prince was not someone he imagined himself speaking about the labyrinth of palaces in Volantis, the hundred isles of Braavos nor the superior quality of the lace of Tyrosh. And yet more than once he had hosted the young man in his tent to discuss strategy only to suddenly realize they were deep into their cups and into the night chatting away.

He found himself awed and envious of him in equal measure, sailing was in his blood and to be at sea was the freest he had ever felt, yet a small part of him still coveted the speed of a dragon. How many more places could he have explored if he had tamed such a beast? He could have mapped the coast of Sothroyos or explored the depths of the Grey Waste, now all of those feats were out of reach for an old man and the lord of the driftwood throne, his house could not afford for him to embark on a trip of which he may not return from.

“You know, after Driftmark, the rumours about you being too ambitious to be a good father and the fact aunt Saera maintains you were a prideful cunt and a pervert, I thought I would surely hate you, but I think you are not that bad.” The princeling told him one day, and he to his own surprise did not take the insults to heart.

Perhaps if the fates and the waves were kind they could make Saera a visit after the war, then she could be personally reminded how she didn’t even know her letters properly at one and ten, coincidentally the same age she stopped wetting the bed, at least if the word of pious Maegelle’s could be trusted.

Without much thought he taught the boy how to read nautical maps and make some of his own, he was not the best cartographer, but he could do a good enough job for the boy to learn something. They spoke in traders’ tongue which the boy was barely intelligible in despite his valiant efforts. Yet at least he was trying, he told himself, which was more than any other of the future generation was doing, to his utter disappointment.

More than once he had surprised himself observing how the boy eagerly helped ready the galleys and cogs. Corlys had yet to see any reprimand nor chide come from his men, which could only mean he was being truthful when he boasted about being able to help with the ships.  

It took him a few months more to actually approach and witness what the boy was doing. Embarrassingly it took him even longer to actually notice the prince’s work, too distracted by the friendly jests and japes of his crew that felt like a fresh balm on his weary spirit. Of course, once he did his heart almost stopped, a whiplash of unwanted memories invaded him of another cocky boy with a dragon who he had taught those same ties. They were part of his legacy, and yet he had not thought of them in years, he certainly had not taught them to Lucerys, and knowing his little brother he would not have done either in the event of his death. Yet seeing them in the wild, used by a boy who had only visited Driftmark thrice and never for long was disconcerting if anything.

“Where did you learn those knots?” He tried to pry, although it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“Hah, wouldn't you like to know.” The boy answered as cocksure as always.

“Excuse me?”

“They are secret special knots, I shan't reveal their origin!” His face certainly went through a change, touching something akin to regret before it settled for stubbornness.

“They are Velaryon knots, passed down by my own uncle.”

“Well… I guess they aren’t that special anymore…”

There wasn't much he could say after that, especially as shaken as he was. The memories would be harder to shake for the next week, his nights haunted by a child with silver locks and melodic laugh that would curl in the middle of the captain's bed leaving him but a sliver of the mattress to rest on.

Aegon was too daring for his taste and very much creative. When the Tyroshi had mounted scorpions onto their ships to deter being engulfed in dragon flame the boy had found another way to send them into the depths of the ocean. While gravity kept the bolts at bay it also helped the boulders his dragon raised over the clouds to impact harder against their ship’s decks. Afterwards it was a matter of letting them drown in the cold waters of the Narrow Sea.

He had knighted him after the first time he had pulled that trick, saving his own ship and two more from a fleet of five Tyroshi galleys.

It was too late when he realized his mistake, for unbeknownst to him the boy had somehow wormed his way into his heart. And now he was playing right into Otto Hightower’s hand, himself becoming a willing ambassador of the prince’s merits.

Perhaps that is why he suggested Rhaena. From what he remembered she was comely, sweet and had more of Laena’s strategic wilfulness than Daemon’s rash pigheadedness, which unfortunately Baela had inherited. A prince, a dragon rider and a successful trader would be a good match, a king if it came to that would be an even better one. Regardless of the future Aegon had offered him more than once a ride on his beast, which he knew would more than delight his granddaughter, unlike him, who had vehemently refused all four times no matter the puppy eyes the beast somehow managed to exhibit. 

Aemond

Mother had pre-emptively forbidden any dragon riding, worse, once the infamous letter from Lord Corlys arrived mother had confined him to the castle grounds, making even visiting his dear Vhagar impossible. 

Which Aemond thought was absolutely preposterous, his brother was out there fighting a war and even got knighted by the Sea Snake himself, and he was forced to stay in King’s landing despite riding the largest dragon in the known world. How was that fair? He was six and ten, a man already yet his mother refused to treat him as such, and it’s not like he could appeal to the King, since they weren’t talking to each other since the rock incident.

He had tried explaining to Ser Criston and grandsire Otto, he was exceptional with the sword and could command Vhagar like a true Valyrian, he most certainly could be of help. Yet neither would budge, for they, like his grace the King, were too afraid of his mother’s wrath to be logical. 

Ser Criston tried to reassure him that the moment to prove himself would come once he was more grown, but Aegon had fled the capital at his age and was already living true adventures bards wrote songs about. However, his dolt of a brother in all his letters had refused to mention the manner of his escape no matter how many times he asked, thus he was forced to remain aimless. Even little Daeron got to experience more excitement than looking at the bare walls of the red castle, since apparently, he was allowed to fly through the Reach down to Three towers and east to the Uplands. 

Helaena herself sent periodic ravens gushing about the places she had visited in her tour, truthfully talking more about the creatures she had managed to examine rather than the men petitioning for her hand. The realm seemed to be as taken with the kind hearted princess as they were with her eldest sister. Mother seemed pleased, for the most part, her smile always turning painful any time Helaena’s gentle nature was compared to the late Queen Aemma’s. From what Aemond could gather the King was on the other hand delighted by this resemblance, which grandsire reassured them would work in their favour. For at least it would ensure the King’s favour extended to her, and no one would dare be uncouth to the second daughter of the King.

Aegon

War was not what he expected at all. The scent of burning flesh haunted his every step and for the first time ever he would admit Laenor had been right. He shouldn't have come. He had never truly seen death before, this was carnage. He certainly had never had people he considered friends die, sliced or white and bloated with the sea having the kindness of returning them to shore. The images etched themselves behind his eyelids at night, and the putrid smell had seeped into his very pores.

His side was still tender from the flames, the welts and puss now giving way to ugly scaring, the result of a Myrish suicide attack targeting him. They had cast his tent aflame, and when he had managed to escape it after it fell on him, he had come face to face with a flurry of steel. The night would not allow him to distinguish friend from foe, and although craven he would admit he had run away. Corlys never begrudged him for it, to lose their only Dragonrider would be a blow they might not recover from.

The Seasnake had attended his bedside during his awful recovery, which was most unexpected. Thankfully he too had agreed not to send word about his injuries to the capital, because Aegon was sure his mother may yet stowaway in a ship just to bring him home by the ear. That or try and beat the Triarchy’s armies with a sandal, which was surprisingly accurate and painful for a woman so lithe. 

Sunfyre had been most agitated during the process, crying into the night like a neglected puppy. His dragon always had a temperament closer to a cuddly guard dog than a man-eating dragon, and he knew the war was as taxing on him as it was on himself. The bond must be bothering his Sunfyre too, pain and fear shared on his part and impotence on his dragon’s. He would ride him three weeks later, once the burns were starting to scar and they had been wrapped accordingly. For three weeks the Myrish boats chanted their success and boasted about defeating a dragon. He paid them with the same fire they had decided to ambush him with, making sure their galleys illuminated the seas like candles in the night and perhaps being a tad too reckless and caring not for the Tyroshy scorpions and he burned their northern camp to a crisp.

The old captain had softened towards him in the passing months, his knighting coming only a few weeks before his twentieth nameday. He'd even agreed to help him with his traders’ tongue deficiencies and listened to his ideas on how to weaken the enemy. He was not an expert general, but he had lived in Lys for almost a year and delivered letters between the free cities the other two, there was no gossip that escaped him nor internal conflict they could not exploit. Was it knightly to taunt the Myrish men about how one of their maester’s daughters was whoring herself in a Lyseny pillow house? No. But was it effective in creating disputes amongst the men of the Three Daughters? Most certainly.

It was refreshing to be treated as a man and not a boy he had to admit, Laenor and Qarl as fond as he was of them did baby him a little, his mother thought him simple, and his grandfather considered the time spent entertaining him a waste. This made him feel valuable, even without his dragon. He had managed to gain the respect of hardened warriors not for his station but for his feats just as Aegon, and that was a feeling he did not wish to give up.

He also saw through Corlys’ mentions of his granddaughter for what they really were, and although marriage was not something he wished to seek yet, he did appreciate the safety the Seasnake was trying to provide. Daemon would have no qualms of butchering him, his brothers and any children they might have once Rhaenyra ascended as queen, but if those children were his own grandchildren his hand would most surely be swayed. It was something Aegon preferred not to think about, the future and the war that felt more unavoidable the more time passed. 

Although he did enjoy his stay in Essos even he knew there was no place that would be safe as long as Daemon had any place by his half sister's side. To live a life full of fear and constant fleeing was something he would not impose on his brothers, especially if it was due to his own cowardice. Aegon knew in which side he stood at, and he also knew at which the Velaryons did, no matter how much he had endeared himself to them. 

Perhaps that is why he took note of the Velaryon ships and what made them sink, just in case. His dragon was not on the big side, but he was battle ready unlike most and his sword fighting skills were acceptable. If war came for him, there was no choice but to be prepared as much as it would tear him and the realm apart.

Another character of note was Addam of Hull who approached him on a windy afternoon to inquire about a man who coincidentally had the same name as his and who somehow had claimed a dragon. Aegon's head buzzed trying to find an excuse for Laenor’s apparent identity theft and try not to gawk at the obvious similarities the man had with Lord Corlys himself.

“Addam is a common name, is it not? And Hull may not be King's Landing, but I'd wager you can fit all of the northern population and have some space free still.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“And yet this Addam somehow managed to claim a dragon.” The man was stern and sober, which did not help his plight at all.

“He probably has blood of one of the Valyrian houses, blood cares not for surnames after all. Personally, I believe Seasmoke confused my golden beauty with my sister's piss coloured beast and followed us in hopes of mating. Afterwards he must have attached himself to the first Velaryon looking man he found, I'd wager.” Aegon redirected. When this Addam’s only response was to raise an eyebrow, he continued his tirade.

“Tis true, you must have seen Syrax, she is as fat as she is ugly. A bully and a nest snatcher too, she is. Even Dreamfyre dislikes her, and she is as mild mannered as they come. I don't know what Seasmoke sees in her, but he's had three clutches with my sister's piss lizard somehow.”

“I see, is this common in dragons?”

“Not at all, most mate for life like Silverwing and Vermithor, but well, my sister's dragon has always been a bit more liberal in her choice of partners, perhaps the dragon took after the rider or perhaps the other way around, but from what I know Syrax is more than close with Caraxes now. No wonder poor Seasmoke feels abandoned.”

He had to bite his tongue not to disparage anymore, Rhaenyra he did not care about but Syrax he hated with a passion. His poor Sunfyre had been bullied relentlessly by her when he was but a little hatchling, she'd take his nest, and even his food when everyone knew she wouldn't even eat it. Her worst afront had been the time she had nipped Sunfyre's tail and such rage had invaded him he had thrown a boot at her stupid face, Rhaenyra had never known of it, but Helaena who thankfully had been there to command Dreamfyre to interfere as not to have her brother burnt to a crisp did. And that was embarrassing enough, as much as she reassured him it had been a brave thing to do, for anyone would wish they inspired a love strong enough as to make someone ready to face a dragon head on for them.

Addam, it turned out, worked on the Seasnake itself, which in his opinion was quite the bold thing for Corlys to do. He couldn't even imagine what would happen when the old captain decided to bring Lucerys aboard, he also would pay good money to see it just for the sheer entertainment value.(Seeing the little shit vomit his guts out a couple of times because he couldn't handle the waves would be worth it already)

A wild idea occurred to him after a few cups of ale, after all why not? Why not fuck with the Velaryon retinue a bit? Why not teach this Addam of Hull the Velaryon knots? The poor guy was an obvious bastard, and on top of his father ignoring him, his half brother had stolen his name and was galivanting all around Essos with it. He deserved something in exchange, did he not?

But first he had to befriend Addam, so it wasn't suspicious, or insulting (after all the last time someone had called Jace and Luke bastards they had taken Aemond's eye, and he was very fond of both of his own). To say that was one of the hardest tasks of the conflict would be an understanding, burning Myrish ships, no problem, engaging in sword combat, hard but doable, managing to pry even a hint of a smile from the Hull man, absolutely fucking impossible. Aegon was Persistent though, like a nasty fly would Aemond say, so he chipped away at his resolve week after week until his new friend finally accepted a jug of mead from him.

Not a time after that had Addam refused him.

Somehow one of those slow days where they prepared and waited for the impasse to break and after a few jugs, Addam asked him why he came at all. He entertained him gladly, always open for a willing ear capable of receiving his complaints.

“To be honest I just didn't want to go back to my father. Can you believe I've spent three years flying about Essos and the only letter he deigns himself to write to me is one where he demands my return and only because I have an object he wants?” Aegon pouted.

“I would not have guessed the King to be so cold towards his first born.”

“Well, he’s a cunt, what can I say. If the gods had been kind they would have given him only daughters, because those are the only ones he seems capable of liking.”

“I do empathize with you, my prince, for my father was equally uninvolved with me and my older brother. I don’t think he ever cared for our existence at all.” His friend’s gaze was fixed on the orange horizon of the afternoon, and somehow Aegon could tell this was not something he told most people.

“I have a couple of little brothers so perhaps we understand each other better than I expected. He sent one to Oldtown when he was six and he screamed and raged at the other after your future Lord of the tides sliced his eye out of his face at ten. If he dies before this war is over at least it would save me the time wasted on going to his funeral.” The prince confessed with a frown.

“My father saw mine own older brother begging on the street when my mother was most sick and didn’t even deign himself to throw him even a copper.” Addam confessed, a memory that still haunted him by the look on his face. Aegon could now understand the icy character after learning of his tragic upbringing. And despite actually having developed a strange fondness for Corlys he could not hold back the indignant outburst.

“What an asshole! Your father certainly wins the bad father's tourney by a league, mine at least had the decency of feeding us.” Corlys might be a great sailor, a cunning general and a loving grandfather, but he was a shit father in all senses and for all his children. Born from such a realization he made an offer, just in case Addam wished to get away from Driftmark like he himself had done when he had run away from King’s Landing and his own horrible sire.

“I have a trading company, two ships for now although I'm hoping to expand in the coming years. If you ever tire of working for the Velaryon fleet, I'd be happy to find a good post for you and your brother in our new vessels.”

“Is that so?” That did tick the eldest curiosity, ships always did.

“Well, I own half of it, but my partner would be a fool to reject your expertise.”

“And this other Addam of Hull is your partner?” Addam inquired.

“Not romantically! Business only, he’s got a boyfriend.” He emphasized. That did manage to finally crack Addam’s defences and bring a chuckle forth.

“Of course, Aegon, business only.”

“I’m serious! I’m single and he would be married if they let him.” He insisted with a rather unbecoming pout which only made Addam laugh more.