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99 AC

His circumstances were surreal, and even now, he didn’t know exactly how he became the Aegon Targaryen, the son of Prince Baelon Targaryen and the late Princess Alyssa Targaryen. He distinctly remembered he went by another name, Harry Potter, in another world where wizards and witches hid amongst the muggles, and he was a student in a school for wizards called Hogwarts. He also remembered many facets of Harry Potter's life. Harry Potter was an orphan who was hated and bullied by his relatives for a long time. Harry Potter was a hero in the wizarding world, which was his only escape from his abusive relatives. But the wonderful world of magic in the wizarding world also housed danger to Harry Potter’s life in the form of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

The memories in his head about the life of Harry Potter ended at a graveyard where he fought a resurrected Dark Lord. There was a duel, and then he remembered a flash of green light. After that, he heard some indistinct voices, but for the life of him, he could not remember what it was. It was only later that he realised he was inside a woman’s womb as a baby. He came to this conclusion only after he was brought out of the womb of his mother. It took him a long time to come to terms with his situation as a newborn baby, but he learned to forget his ‘other’ memories. Sometimes, he even convinced himself that the life of Harry Potter was all but a terrible dream or a figment of his imagination.

Aegon liked to think it was a bad dream because he had the one thing Harry Potter desperately yearned for… family! He now had two elder brothers and a father. His dear mother had perished half a year after giving birth to him. He rarely remembered his mother sans for her warmth and loving voice as she sang to him in the crib. According to his father, she had fiercely loved him. But no matter how often his father had said it, he could see the bitterness in the man’s eyes whenever the heir to the Iron Throne looked at him. He knew Prince Baelon Targaryen deeply regretted having a third son. He knew if his father were given a choice, he would’ve preferred to have his wife by his side rather than his third son.

He also suspected his brothers felt the same way. After all, it was his birth that caused the health of Princess Alyssa Targaryen to deteriorate.

Despite the dysfunctional family he found himself in, it was everything Harry Potter desperately hoped for, and Aegon Targaryen had it all. The life of Harry Potter taught him the importance of family. The life of an orphan was tough and alone. No one helped Harry Potter when he was suffering under the yoke of the Dursleys. He could feel Harry Potter's loneliness in the muggle and wizarding world. The only family Harry Potter had was Sirius Black, but the man could not care for Harry because the Ministry of Magic was hunting him.

Even if he didn’t have a mother to raise him, he was not denied the love of a mother. He found a mother in his grandmother, the Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen. His grandmother taught him the noble tongue of the Valyrian Freehold. His grandmother took him on his first dragon flight on her dragon, the mighty Silverwing. At her insistence, he even squired for Lord Boremund Baratheon at Storm’s End.

In some ways, Aegon was thankful that his grandmother had made him serve as Lord Boremund’s squire. It kept him far away from King’s Landing, which he hated with a passion, but it also served as a balm to keep House Baratheon happy. His grandfather’s decision to name Prince Baelon as his heir over Princess Rhaenys had displeased House Baratheon. Prince Aemon’s daughter was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne according to all the laws of gods and men, but the king’s word was final in this matter. Even his grandmother had failed to convince King Jaehaerys to restore Princess Rhaenys’ inheritance. The fallout from that decision even affected their relationship with House Velaryon, with Lord Corlys resigning from the post of Master of Ships.

Under such circumstances, it was the Queen’s wish to see Aegon squired under Lord Boremund. It was an attempt to rekindle the old familial ties as well as a kind gesture from the Good Queen. Lord Boremund had been a ward of King Jaehaerys when the Stormlands were under the threat of the Vulture King. It was this history Queen Alysanne used to convince the Old King to send Aegon to Storm’s End.

The only thing he missed was spending time with his grandmother, Gael, and Viserys.

All these thoughts flashed by in Aegon’s mind as he stared at the blood coating his sword. His sword was shaking, as were his arms that were holding the sword. It was the first time he killed someone, and the shock of it was something he could not easily overcome. He searched his memories for his worth, and he could not find it as he stared in horror at his victim.

It was a young Dornish boy drowning in his own blood from a stab wound to his neck. Somehow, Aegon had managed to stab the young boy through his neck amidst battle.

“Keep your mind in the fight.” Borros roared, and Aegon was forced to the ground by his friend.

A spear occupied the space where his head was.

Aegon, known for his footwork and agility, was not so easily intimidated by the Dornish spearman. He expertly rolled onto his back and managed to kick-up with his legs. Along the way, he unsheathed the dagger he had holstered on his forearm and stabbed straight into the neck of his enemy, who was about to stab his friend. He nearly flinched as red-hot blood sprayed on his face but held back the urge to vomit and pushed away the Dornishman.

“You saved my life.” said Borros, climbing to his feet while Aegon picked up his sword from the ground.

“You saved mine first.” said Aegon, sweeping his bloodied silver hair out of his face.

“I did, didn’t I?” Borros smiled before a maniacal glint came to his eyes. “Now, what’d you say we kill some dornish dogs, my brother of the sword?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Aegon smiled even though, in his mind, he was horrified at how easily he was killing people.

Together, they brandished their swords and waded into the fight.

It took half an hour for the fighting to stop, and by then, Aegon felt like his limbs were made of iron and his heart made of the coldest winter. The Dornish raiding party that had been terrorising the villages near Blackhaven were dead or captured. The captives were put into chains for Lord Boremund Baratheon to judge.

“You did good, my prince.” said Ser Reginald Reyne, patting him on his shoulder while sitting against the same tree Aegon was resting his back.

“I don’t think this is something that I crave, Ser. I’m not fit to be a knight.” Aegon muttered, frowning at the blood on his sword and his hands.

“Tell me my prince. What does a knight do?” Ser Reginald asked, staring intently at Aegon with his bright green eyes.

“Kill for the sake of their sworn lords and king.” Aegon answered bluntly.

“In war, yes. But in peace, knights protect the innocent from the wicked. We guard the women and children and fight for those who can’t fight. We keep the king’s peace in the realm.”

“The realm?” Aegon scoffed. “You don’t even see for whom you fight. Look at yourself, Ser. You are far away from your home, fighting in a battle that has nothing to do with you. Yet, you claim knights fight for the innocent.”

“I fight for you, my prince. I believe I’m fighting for the innocent – an innocent boy who mourns even his enemies.” said Ser Reginald, nodding at the bodies stacked up near a ditch.

“I never asked for you to fight for me.” Aegon said frostily.

“You didn’t, but the Good Queen did.”

“And you follow her orders blindly, don’t you?”

“Queen Alysanne asked me to guard an innocent boy of pure heart. I believe I’ve been doing a great job so far.”

“What makes you think I’m that same innocent boy with a pure heart?” Aegon asked with a scowl, making Ser Reginald chuckle.

“A young prince who spends his monthly allowance on feeding a few hungry mouths anonymously in King’s Landing and the villages near Storm’s End is of pure heart in my eyes and worthy of my protection. It’d be a true knight’s dream to guard such a prince.”

Aegon remained silent after his sworn shield’s response.

“I don’t like killing.” Aegon finally said.

“No sane person does, but war and death are part of nature. Think about it, my prince. If kings, knights and lords refuse to do their duty, anarchy would follow in the realm.”

“Do you want to hide from your duty and let lawlessness thrive in the realm of your grandsire?” Ser Reginald asked, for which he had no answer.

Aegon had no answer to that, and he sort of understood the gist of what Ser Reginald was saying.

Taking a deep breath, Aegon climbed to his feet. He took one last look at his bloodied sword before cleaning it with his cloak.

“We should move and rejoin Lord Boremund. He’ll decide what to do with the prisoners.” said Aegon.

****

Upon returning to Storm’s End, Aegon was promptly knighted by Lord Boremund for his valour on the battlefield. He was not the only one to get a knighthood. Borros was also knighted, and a feast was thrown in Storm’s End in their honour.

A feast in Storm’s End meant not just food. Drunken brawls and food fights were customary in the halls of the Storm Kings of old. While Aegon rarely partook, he nonetheless enjoyed the spectacle. Therefore, he watched with great amusement as Borros picked a fight with the heir of Nightsong over a box of oranges, of all things.

It was an eventful night filled with laughter and merrymaking. So, when he was summoned by Lord Boremund to his chambers the next day, he wasn’t expecting what the lord of Storm’s End had to say.

“I’m being asked to return to King’s Landing?” Aegon asked, unable to mask the disappointment he was feeling.

“I’m afraid so, Prince Aegon.” Lord Boremund said.

“Does it say why I’m being recalled?” He asked tentatively.

“It does not. I had informed his grace of your knighting, and this was the response I received from King Jaehaerys.”

“I see.” Aegon muttered.

“I’ll make the arrangements for your travel, Prince Aegon. I suggest you say your goodbyes.”

Aegon just nodded slowly before showing himself out of Lord Boremund’s solar.

The last few days of his stay were hectic, to say the least. Borros and the few friends he made, like Hector Swan and Jon Tarth, during his stay openly expressed their displeasure at his prospective return to the capital.

“You could stay at Tarth instead of the smelly underbelly of King’s Landing. I’m sure I could convince my uncle to give shelter to a Targaryen Prince.” Jon Tarth offered.

“I’m flattered, and I’ll take up that offer if I ever run away from the horrendous smell of the city.” Aegon blandly replied, and they all laughed in good sport.

All the joking aside, he had no other choice but to return as ordered. After all, the order came from his grandfather, the king of Westeros. Besides, his stay in Storm’s End was supposed to be for earning his knighthood, which happened a few nights ago. He no longer had a valid reason to extend his stay other than his personal desire not to stay close to his father and the opportunistic vultures of the royal court.

Aegon also realised he was only a few months from his fifteenth namesday. At the same time, a month from now was the fiftieth anniversary of King Jaehaery’s reign on the Iron Throne. So, he supposed knight or no knight, he’d have most likely been recalled at some point. The last time he was in the capital was for Daemon’s wedding to Lady Rhea Royce. Since then, he hadn’t set foot in the Crownlands.

He supposed it wouldn't be too bad. After all, Daemon was away at Runestone. That should reduce the chances of pissing him off, which was a unique sport Daemon often enjoyed. That particular feather on the cap of Daemon’s character developed after King Jaehaerys gifted Dark Sister to Daemon after the wedding.

But he was not holding out much hope on Daemon, giving him a bad time in the capital when his father and grandfather were competing for the first spot on his shit list. His father and grandfather had never disappointed him on that front till now. He had more beef with the two of them than Daemon at this point.

****

Aegon rode towards the River Gate with a company of Baratheon guards on either side. The Blackwater Rush was to his back, and the Smallfolk gave them wary eyes. The banners of House Baratheon flew proudly amongst their company, so everyone knew House Baratheon had sent someone important to the capital.

“This place stinks much worse than my chamber pot.” Borros grunted while making strange actions with his nose that put a smile on Aegon’s face.

“I warned you this would happen.”

“Yes, you did. I now understand why you prefer Storm’s End to this shit hole.” Borros grunted.

“If you’re put off by the smell, wait till you meet the people here. You’d happily spent the rest of your life at the Wall without a complaint.” said Aegon as their horses trotted at a sedate pace through the outskirts of the city walls.

“Nothing can make me join the Night’s Watch. To swear off women and freeze my balls at a wall of ice for the rest of my life…” Borros shuddered as if he was feeling the cold grip of a Northern winter. “I’d rather die.”

The stench of sweat, shit and fish became all the more pronounced as their company closed in on the gate. Along the way, Aegon tried his best not to stare at the skinny children who were most likely suffering from malnutrition, trying their best to follow the riding party discreetly. He kept seeing the same faces over and over among the children until he finally pulled the reins of his horse and stopped mid-way.

“Aegon?” Borros looked at him in askance.

“Ser Reginald.” Aegon called.

“My prince.”

“We have some leftovers in our provisions, do we not?”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Give it to the children and the needy. The gods blessed us with a safe journey. We should give alms for the blessing.” said Aegon.

“As you command, my prince.” Ser Reginald nodded.

Aegon looked expectantly at Borros, who rolled his eyes but gave the orders to his men to follow suit.

“I’ll have your men recompensated and more at the Red Keep. You have my word.” Aegon said, smiling at the good-natured grumbling from his good friend and the men of Storm’s End.

They had to stop by the side of the road and give away their provisions to the children, who happily alleviated their hunger. Some of the Begging brothers passing by the road also accepted alms from them.

“Blessed are the ones who give alms to the needy without recognition or reward, my prince.” A Begging brother said.

Aegon was slightly startled by the recognition from the Begging brother.

‘My eyes. No one has purple eyes save for a Targaryen.’ Aegon thought while searching for any stray hair coming out of his helmet. ‘Well, not exactly purple eyes. I took after my mother with one purple and one green.’

“You’ll have to put blinders on your helmet not to get recognised, my prince.” Ser Reginald said with a slight grin.

“I’ll remember that from now on.” Aegon muttered, quickly climbing back to his horse.

“Good Ser. Please tell us the prince's name.” the Begging brother requested while holding.

“Prince Aegon, third son of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa.” Ser Reginald answered before Aegon could order the knight to keep his silence.

“We’ll pray for the prince’s good health to the Seven.” the Begging brother promised.

With a deferential bow directed at Aegon, the Begging brothers retreated into the masses. Aegon eyed them as they disappeared among the shacks of the Smallfolk.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” said Aegon as he observed the excited chatter among the children once they realised a Targaryen prince was amongst them.

“Forgive me, my prince. I thought they had the right to know.” Ser Reginald said.

Aegon eyed the Reyne knight critically for a moment before sighing. The man was a leal knight picked out by his grandmother and Septon Barth, but they were politicians in their own unique way. His dearly departed Aunt Maegelle had been the one to teach him about the teachings of the Seven. He learned the virtue of giving alms from her actions, and he continued to do so to this day in her memory. Though her visits were sparse to the capital, he had enjoyed spending time with his aunt, who took him to meet the less fortunate of the city. It was a deep loss when word reached them from Oldtown about his aunt succumbing to Greyscale.

Though he was sad at her passing, he was also proud of his aunt, who died doing what she believed in. After all, she had succumbed to Greyscale because she was treating those among the less fortunate affected by the infliction.

He kept such thoughts at bay as he rode away before more people gathered to see a Targaryen prince. The city's outskirts rarely saw royals, and he had no intention of being the local attraction for the day.

The River Gate was wide open, and the guards stationed at the gate allowed them entry. The smell of fish became more pronounced as they stepped into the Fishmonger’s Square.

“How do you folk live in this place?” Borros asked incredulously. “I’m surprised this place is not swarming with dragons hunting for fish.”

“That’s because they’re all chained inside there.” Aegon pointed at the giant dome-like structure to the east that sat upon Rhaenys’ hill.

“The famed Dragonpit.” Borros said in awe. “I hope you’d let me have a closer look at that place, Aegon.”

“That entirely depends on your ability to cham my grandfather and grandmother. Not even the gods could access the Dragonpit without their approval.” said Aegon, turning away from the dome in the distance to eye the massive castle that was the Red Keep that sat upon Aegon’s Hill overlooking the city.

It was there that the rest of the drama was about to unfold.

An all too familiar screech reached his ears, and when he looked towards the direction of the sound, he found the source. Seeing a sleek red dragon flying in the sky, he understood one thing. The drama he was expecting in the Red Keep just got spiced up thanks to the arrival of Daemon.

“Well, there goes my peace of mind. Come, my friends. Let’s seek refuge in the Red Keep and spend the last few hours in peace before my brother inevitably finds us.”

Aegon urged his horse forward on the road ahead and rode towards the Red Keep.

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

Aegon’s footsteps echoed throughout the room. He hated how silent the room was because he could feel the stares of the two men occupying the room. These two men were Jaehaerys Targaryen and Baelon Targaryen. He disliked them both because they were the schemers in the family and the primary source of all drama in the House of the Dragon.

However, Jaehaerys Targaryen was his grandfather and king, while Baelon Targaryen was his father and the heir to the throne. If his grandfather and father had immediately summoned him to their presence upon his arrival, then there was bound to be some official business involved. So, he didn’t dally any longer.

“Your grace.” Aegon fell to a knee before his grandfather.

“Stand Aegon.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“How was your stay with Lord Baratheon?” Baelon asked, pinning Aegon with a scrutinising stare.

“It was eventful. Lord Bratheon was courteous, as were his family and bannermen.” Aegon said curtly.

For a moment, an awkward silence lingered in the room. If the two older men thought they were trying to make him uncomfortable, they were solely wrong.

“Do you know why I allowed you to squire under Lord Baratheon?” Jaehaerys asked while neatly folding his fingers into the safety of the silver-white robes.

“To smooth over any bad feelings your former ward might hold against you for declaring my father your heir instead of Princess Rhaenys.” Aegon said airily.

He could come up with more reasons, but that was the primary point of disagreement between his grandfather and Lord Baratheon.

“And?” Baelon prodded.

“Have you reversed your decision and named Princess Rhaenys your successor?” Aegon directed the question at the king, whose eyes twitched at his blatant disrespect.

But the silence that lingered in the room was his answer.

“I didn’t think so. So, without addressing Lord Baratheon's core grievance, why do you expect him to change his attitude?”

“Then what’ve you been doing all these years in Storm’s End if you knew the reasons for your presence there?” Baelon asked furiously.

“I’ve been squiring for Lord Baratheon and making friends with his family and bannermen. For your information father, I do not have the power to control someone’s mind and make them think in a certain manner.” Aegon snapped back.

“You…” Baelon glared.

“Enough!” Jaehaerys shouted. “There is enough conflict within the family. I do not wish to see more of that with my own eyes.”

Aegon watched his father settle down beside the king by taking deep breaths.

“Baelon. Leave us.” Jaehaerys said eventually after looking between Aegon and Baelon.

“Father.” Baelon nodded at the king before walking out of the room.

On the way, he paused just behind Aegon and hesitantly glanced at his son. Closing his eyes, Baelon shook his head before taking his leave.

“You are so much like your mother in expressing your opinions without any care for others.” said Jaehaerys tentatively.

“Alternatively, people call it speaking the truth.” said Aegon.

“Yes, truth,” Jaehaerys muttered before his old eyes gained strength. “I’d hear it if you have more to share, Aegon.”

“As I said earlier, Lord Baratheon is not pleased with your decision to declare my father as heir over his niece. He loved his sister, Lady Jocelyn, most dearly. He holds that same love for Princess Rhaenys. He is her uncle, but most of all, her steadfast friend. No matter what you do, you won’t turn him away from supporting his niece.” Aegon said dutifully.

While he disliked acting as a spy, his grandfather was his king. There were limits to his freedom, and Aegon was aware that his freedoms ended when his grandfather became serious.

“I see. That’s unfortunate.” Jaehaerys muttered. “But you’ve struck a close friendship with Boremund’s son. Isn’t that right, Aegon?”

“Yes, your grace.” Aegon nodded.

“Good. It’ll be to your advantage to make friends with the future lord paramount of the Stormlands.” said Jaehaerys.

“I did not befriend Borros for the sake of his future position.” Aegon said with gritted teeth.

“Then Borros Baratheon is lucky to have a friend like you.” Jaehaerys smoothly said while resting his back against the pillow on his chair. “Now, tell me. Have you been practising your gift?”

“Yes, your grace.” Aegon replied testily.

“Daily?” the old king prodded.

“Yes, your grace.”

“Does anyone at Storm’s End suspect anything? Does your friend know?”

“No.” Aegon said curtly.

“Are you sure?” Jaehaerys looked suspiciously.

“Yes, your grace.”

“Good. Now, show me.” Jaehaerys ordered, taking hold of a dagger resting on the table beside him.

Aegon eyed the fireplace in the far corner of the chamber filled with firewood. Pointing his right hand towards the fireplace, he willed his magic to come forth to his fingertips. He could feel a slight tingle pass from his gut all the way to his fingers, and in the next moment, there was fire in his palm.

With a slight jerk of his palm, the fire in his palm shot out and lit up the fireplace.

“Wonderful! Magnificent!” Jaehaerys said happily. “You’ve learned to control your gift better.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“I had thought about inviting some pyromancers from abroad to develop your gift, but…”

“You feared word would spread, and I’d be targeted by the fringe elements within the Faith.” Aegon finished.

“Yes. But not just the Faith. House Targaryen have many enemies, Aegon. We’ve kept them at bay with our dragons till now. But dragons cannot be everywhere, and you’ve yet to bond with one…” Jaehaerys trailed off, looking thoughtfully into the distance.

“Your grace?” Aegon called hesitantly when his grandfather was lost in his thoughts for too long.

The faraway look on his grandfather’s face was replaced by a calculative one once he returned to reality.

“Tell me, Aegon. What are your plans now that you’ve been knighted?” Jaehaerys asked, suddenly putting Aegon on the spot.

“I suppose I could partake in tourneys and earn my spurs in the jousts. I also hoped to study medicines and higher mysteries at the Citadel. Septon Barth often spoke of the glass candles of Valyria. The maesters of the Citadel would know how to operate one, and I intend to learn from them.”

“I see. I can understand your interest in magic and the crafts of our ancestors. But why do you need to study medicine, Aegon?” Jaehaerys asked.

“I’ve learned the ways to take lives. Now, I’d like to learn how to save lives.”

“A noble thought.” Jaehaerys nodded. “I shall speak with your father and Septon Barth about your wishes. They’ll know better than myself on this matter.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Aegon bowed.

“You may leave. However, tell your friend that I’ve summoned him. It’d be remiss of me not to speak with my Baratheon nephew.”

“As you wish, your grace.”

Aegon bowed one last time before hightailing out of his grandfather’s solar. It was not every day that a meeting with the King of the Seven Kingdoms ended on amicable terms. So, he was most eager to end the conversation before something unusual happened.

He was also lucky because the moment he opened the doors of the solar to leave, he found Daemon walking down the hall straight towards the king’s room.

Closing the door behind him, he walked straight ahead.

“I see you’ve returned, brother. Did you kill the Dornish cunts, or did you run away while real men fought in your stead?” Daemon mocked with a pretentious smile.

“Daemon. How has the Vale been treating you?” Harry asked candidly, letting the insult wash away, knowing full well that Daemon would enjoy getting under his skin.

“A dreary place, the Vale. I had often wondered why Aegon didn’t make his capital in those mountains. But having seen the place, I can understand why my Bronze bitch’s lands were unappealing to the Conquerer.” said Daemon.

“I see. I’d have thought you’d find Runestone appealing. I’ve heard First Men runes keep Royce men’s armour invulnerable to time and the elements.”

“I could care less what some weak barbarians doodled on their stones in ages past. It didn’t save them when the Andals crossed the Narrow Sea with their steel.” Daemon said with a derisive snort.

“Anyway, you shouldn’t keep grandfather waiting.” Aegon tapped on Daemon’s shoulder in a friendly manner before abruptly walking away.

Dealing with Daemon was like dealing with a child. All he had to do was distract him with something else, and that was something Aegon was an expert at – distraction. But that was not all he did. He turned a corner and stopped moving and instead closed his eyes, focusing on the listening charm he sneakily slapped on his brother’s shoulder.

It was by accident that his grandmother and grandfather discovered his talent for magic. But instead of celebrating his magical powers and making a fuss about it, his grandfather and grandmother swore themselves to secrecy. Not a soul outside the king and queen knew about his powers. They didn’t even know the full scope of his powers because he kept that information close to his heart. They only knew he had an uncanny affinity for fire, which was not a rare trait as there were pyromancers in Essos with similar powers.

But his magic was far more versatile.

However, he wished he had more memories of Harry Potter’s life. The spells he knew were few and less useful for his needs. The only spell he found more helpful was the listening charm, but he needed direct contact to apply the charm on something, and that was a disadvantage. The lack of a wand was also a problem that inhibited his growth as a wizard. Even if he wanted to create new spells, the lack of a strong foci left him in the lurch.

Aegon had some ideas on how to procure a wand, but that involved desecrating the remains of a dragon.

Suddenly, he stopped the flow of thoughts as his ears picked up on faint sounds transmitted by the listening charm.

‘I need a way to tie a listening charm permanently in the king’s room.’ Aegon thought as he listened in on their conversation.

****

This was the only place in the capital where Aegon could relax and not look over his shoulder all the time. It was his grandmother’s room.

“He sleeps like a baby.”

A feminine giggle followed the claim, but Aegon paid it no heed. He nuzzled into his grandmother’s lap as she sang an old Valyrian song while petting his hair.

Blessed is the Promised Prince

With the fire of fourteen upon his blade

A hero who delivers the world from darkness

The herald of a new dawn!

A red star will bleed the north sky

Darkness will gather under the lion of the night

Amidst salt and smoke, a dragon is born

In Ice and Fire, his song is sung!

His grandmother had such a beautiful voice that made it so easy to sleep when she sang. He nuzzled in and was ready to slip into sleep, but he was jerked awake when someone pinched his nose.

“Grandmother.” he whined.

“Let him sleep, Gael.” Alysanne chided her last remaining daughter.

“He can go to his precious sleep after he explains this game he brought for me.” Gael complained stubbornly.

“Aegon. I think we both know how this is going to end.” Alysanne said, looking exasperatedly at her stubborn daughter.

“I cannot catch a break in this castle.” Aegon complained as he sat up lazily.

“You brought the board game, Aegon. You have the responsibility to explain the game to Gael.” Alysanne admonished, flicking his ear.

Aegon eyed his grandmother reproachfully for always taking Gael’s side in all things. Nonetheless, he took the wooden box with black and white squares painted on its surface from Gael’s hand.

“This game’s name is Chess." said Aegon while opening the box.

All the pieces he had painstakingly carved by his two hands were neatly arranged inside the box. One by one, he had the pieces taken out and explained them to Gael and his grandmother, who found some interest in the concept of the game. While his grandmother had abandoned political pursuits in the court, she was not always like that. In her prime, Queen Alysanne had her own court in parallel with King Jaehaerys. In fact, his grandmother remains the only person capable of making policy changes by directly influencing the king.

But nowadays, she imposed a self-exile from court politics after some disagreements with her husband surfaced.

“Tell me, Aegon. Why did you make the Queen the most powerful piece in this game while keeping the King powerless?” Alysanne asked after he explained the game and its rules.

“A king doesn’t actively take part in the battle. He should be the one directing the strategy of his troops. The piece representing the Queen is supposed to be the general of the king’s army, like Queen Visenya. Visenya won the Conqueror the Vale and smashed the Braavosi fleet. Queen Rhaenys helped secure the Stormlands for King Aegon. I wanted the power of Conqueror’s wives represented in the piece.” Aegon explained.

He had seriously considered naming the piece a dragon but then thought better of it. He didn’t want to diminish the game from what he remembered in his dreams. It was a way of honouring an old friend he only knew in his dreams.

“Hmm. Don’t let your grandfather hear you speak so highly of the late Queen Dowager.” Alysanne warned.

“Why don’t you mind, grandmother?” Aegon asked curiously.

“Because as a grown woman, I can understand Visenya better. What mother wouldn’t want the best for their children? No matter what they had done, a mother could never turn her back on her children. That’s something my stonehearted husband refuses to see or care about.” said Alysanne, her eyes filled with sorrow.

Aegon didn’t know whether his grandmother’s sorrow was for the many children she lost or her estranged daughter Saera Targaryen.

‘It’s probably both.’ Aegon thought.

“Mother, let’s play.” Gael said, hugging the queen closely. “Help me beat Aegon in his own game.”

“Of course, my sweet.” Alysanne smiled, pressing a kiss against Gael’s curly silver hair.

“Now, tell me the rules of the game again.”

“I’ll have them written down so you can learn faster.” Aegon said with a sigh.

The first few games were decisive victories for Aegon, but the longer he played, the more difficult his opponents became. They played games throughout the day until lunch, which they had in the same room. The game then went on to the evening, with Gael showing no less enthusiasm to defeat him despite the string of defeats she suffered.

Then, surprising Aegon and his grandmother, the king visited them in the chamber. When grandfather learned about the game from an excitable Gael, who suffered from the inability to read the room, he decided to join.

“This game of yours is fascinating, Aegon. It rewards logic and punishes moves made on instincts. A game fit for developing a strategic mind.” Jaehaerys praised.

But Aegon saw the praise as an indirect jab at his grandmother. There was a cold distance between his grandmother and grandfather. Ever since his aunt Maegelle’s passing, it was his grandmother’s wish to have his other aunt Saera brought back from her exile. But that was something his grandfather opposed vehemently. It was a request his grandfather would never accept because Saera was the third most hated person in his grandfather’s books after Maegor and Visenya.

He could understand why his grandfather passionately hated his exiled aunt. She had disgraced the Targaryen name by turning into a whore in Lys.

The last he had heard of Saera Targaryen was that she was in Volantis and amassed a great fortune and political power running pleasure houses inside the Black Wall. To this day, the matter of Saera remains a contentious issue between his grandparents.

Knowing his grandparents and their penchant for double speak, Aegon carefully navigated the rest of the time spent with his family. The only one least bothered by such inane worries was Gael, who was loved fiercely by the king and queen. Nothing could ever go wrong with Gael, but he was not equal to that stature.

“That’s enough for today, Gael. Why don’t you introduce this game to Viserys and Aemma? I’m sure they’ll appreciate some respite from their duties and caring for Rhaenyra.” Jaehaerys suggested softly.

“Oh, okay, father.” Gael smiled brightly.

She jumped to her feet and kissed the king’s cheeks before doing the same to the queen.

“Come, Aegon. Let’s go and play with Aemma and Viserys.”

“We have something to say with Aegon, my sweet daughter. You go ahead. I’ll have Aegon sent after you in a minute.” said Jaehaerys.

For a moment, Aegon thought Gael would protest, but she smiled brightly at everyone.

“Okay. But don’t keep Aegon for too much time.” said Gael.

“We won’t.” said Jaehaerys. “Ser Ryam, escort my daughter to Viserys and Aemma.”

The door closed behind Gael with a small thud, and Aegon looked between his grandparents. It was his grandfather who spoke first.

“I’ve spoken of your interests in studying at the Citadel with Grand Maester Allar and Septon Barth. Allar has agreed to check with his colleagues in Oldtown while Septon Barth presented me with a unique suggestion.”

“Oh.” Aegon muttered, looking curiously at his grandfather.

“Septon Barth suggested that you take up some duties in Dragonstone while tutors can be arranged for your studies and have them teach you at our ancestral home. I think it is also time for you to claim a dragon.” said Jaehaerys.

Aegon opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it. Having a dragon companion was not something he could easily protest. He had no intention of becoming a dragonless Targaryen like his uncle Vaegon. Some time spent in Dragonstone was also a good idea. The ancient castle built by the Freehold held many secrets, and he was sure there were ancient scrolls in the secret vaults of the castle that were accessible only to Targaryens. Most of the scrolls that contained knowledge from the Valyrian Freehold were kept behind vaults with keys guarded by his father, Baelon Targaryen. He was present when King Jaehaerys gave his father the keys to the vaults after his father was declared the Prince of Dragonstone.

The Prince of Dragonstone was supposed to be the guardian of several artefacts and knowledge from the Freehold and also the protector of the Dragonmont.

The dragon keepers of Dragonstone were supposedly the best in their work, and if he wanted to find the right dragon, he needed their services. An extended stay in Dragonstone would help him amass some knowledge of Valyrian magic if he could access those vaults. If he could learn medicine from a master in Dragonstone at his leisure, it would be even better.

“I think I can agree to spend some time in Dragonstone and complete my studies there. But I’d like to have access to the vaults.” said Aegon.

His grandfather took a long look at him but, in the end, agreed with his request.

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

The crowd’s excited chatter could be heard while Aegon tightened his armguards.

“Are you sure you’re not partaking in the melee? I assure you the melee will be much more fun than poking each other with sticks on a horse.” said Borros.

“I’m afraid his grace ordered the prince to stay away from the melee.” said Ser Reginald, who helped tighten the straps on Aegon’s chest plate.

“Why would he do that? I told him Aegon would be by my side in the melee, and we’d crush everyone that stood against us.”

Aegon froze upon hearing that and glared at his friend.

“What?” Borros cocked his head, noticing the glare from Aegon.

“You! You outed my plans to partake in the melee to my grandfather. You caused this.” Aegon jabbed an accusing finger at the heir of Storm’s End.

“I don’t get it. King Jaehaerys was quite happy when I said it.” Borros said confusedly.

“He was happy because he gleaned my plans easily from you without much effort.” Aegon deadpanned before shaking his head.

“Oh.” Borros muttered in realisation.

“‘Oh’, he says. You robbed me of the chance to knock a few blows against my prickly brother in the presence of a large enough crowd. Because of you. I’ll have to wait for another chance.” Aegon complained.

“Or maybe Ser Borros will have saved you from a few blows from Prince Daemon by unwittingly exposing your plans.” Ser Reginald coughed.

Aegon threw a dirty look at his sworn shield but otherwise didn’t try to refute the claim. It was entirely possible that Daemon could end up thrashing him in the field, but Aegon was willing to bet he could give a good fight.

“In that case, I’ll make sure to exchange a few blows with Prince Daemon in your name, my friend.” Borros vowed.

“Do be careful. Daemon is an arrogant prick, but he’ll goad you into making mistakes. My brother is a puissant warrior, and he carries Dark Sister.”

“Ser Borros need not fight Prince Daemon. Prince Aegon will have the chance to exchange blows with his brother. Look…” Ser Reginald pointed outside their tent, and sure enough, Aegon saw Daemon riding into the field with his winged helmet while the crowd cheered.

“He looks as stupid as his helmet. It’s as if he has a death wish to die of a broken neck.” Aegon muttered.

“Showmanship is as much a part of a tourney as skill with a lance, my prince.” Ser Reginald said sagely.

“Hmm.” Aegon grunted as he climbed atop his horse.

The trumpets blared again, signalling the crier was about to make another announcement.

“Announcing Prince Aegon Targaryen.”

“That’s my cue.” Aegon muttered as he pulled on the reins of his horse and trotted into the tourney field amidst cheers from the crowd.

He had his horse stand right next to Daemon in the field.

“Look who’s here. I thought you’d be hiding behind the queen’s skirts and watching from the box.” Daemon smirked.

This was why Aegon disliked Daemon most in his dysfunctional family. Even when there was no bad blood between them, he always wanted to punch the smirk right off Daemon’s face whenever he opened his mouth. It also didn’t help that his father liked Daemon the most among his children. Aegon also disliked the fact that his grandfather gave Dark Sister to Daemon.

“I could not let myself let the chance to gain a thousand dragons slip away. A third son has to look after himself.” Aegon said in a composed manner.

Daemon shot him a strange look but otherwise dropped the matter, for which Aegon was thankful. Instead, he focused on the crier, who began calling out the names of eight other knights. His eyes went to the box where the royal family was sitting with a few guests from the great houses of the realm. He found his grandfather and father engaged in a whispered conversation while his grandmother was happily laughing at something Lady Aemma said. Gael had Rhaenyra in her lap, and she was tickling her like there was no tomorrow.  

When his eyes fell on Viserys, he found his older brother teeming with excitement while chatting away with Septon Barth.

Viserys was always an easygoing character who disliked conflict in any form. Of all the Targaryen men in the family, he loved Viserys the most. The rest were all dickheads in some way.

But he regretted he was not as close to Viserys as Daemon. The blame for that could be squarely put at his father's feet, Baelon Targaryen, the Spring Prince. It was his father that kept him far away from both his siblings. He was always pawned off to Aunt Maegelle, Queen Alysanne or even Grand Maester Elysar when he should've spent more time with his siblings. The constant flashes of memories of a whole other world were also a hurdle that made Aegon think he was a foreigner in his own family.

His attention went back to the crier who announced the order of the jousts. To his amusement, he was supposed to go against Ser William Royce. He had never heard of the man, nor could he recall the man from Daemon’s wedding.

‘Maybe a distant relative of the main family.’ Aegon mused.

“Don’t lose to that ugly pig from the Vale.” Daemon murmured at Aegon as he passed by.

Aegon was unsurprised that Daemon disliked his wife’s family. If his brother got along with anyone, it was the Blood Wyrm.

He didn’t reply verbally to Daemon and instead went to the stands near the Queen.

“Princess.” Aegon looked expectantly at Gael, offering his left hand.

Gael happily bounced towards him and tied a red ribbon on his wrist. She had insisted beforehand that he ask for her favour and, knowing Gael, she’d make a fuss if he didn’t follow through.

“Win it, Aegon. For me.” Gael said, smiling at him.

Aegon nodded and guided his horse towards one end of the jousting area while everyone made preparations by arranging lances on either side.

“Take a deep breath and release it when you jab with your lance.” Ser Reginald advised him as he gave him his first lance.

“Your opponent is older and, therefore, more experienced but also slow. But you are young and strong. Be quick with your lance. No hesitation.”

Aegon nodded at the knight. He took one last look at the box and saw his grandfather and father were watching him.

Snapping his visor shut, Aegon raised his lance in challenge at the Royce knight. A loud horn blared, signalling the start of the joust.

Aegon harshly tugged at the reins of his horse.

“Hyya!”

His horse galloped forward, picking up speed. Aegon held the lance in a firm grip and controlled his breathing. Just when he neared his opponent on the other track, he took a deep breath. Time slowed down, and he could feel his heart hammer away in his ears.

It was as if he was blessed with some form of magic because he could see where Ser Royce’s lance was aiming. He knew beforehand on instinct where his opponent’s lance was about to make contact.  

Aegon lurched to a side and jabbed his lance while releasing the breath he was holding. His lance connected right at the abdomen of the Royce knight. His lance broke clean, and the Royce knight was thrown off the horse. Only when he reached the other side of the jousting area did Aegon realise he had evaded his opponent's lance, and the Royce knight was on the ground.

“Yeah!” Aegon pumped his fist in the air, feeling the thrill of victory.

The thrumming of his heart lessened, and he could now hear the shouting and cheering from the crowd. Looking at the box, he found Gael on her feet, cheering for him. He looked at each face in the box, and only one man was not cheering, and that was his father. Baelon the Brave, they call his father. But Aegon knew him as Baelon, the Coward. This was a man who could not look straight into his eyes, and in that moment, Aegon found all the more reason to win at the tilts.

The following seven jousts were time-consuming compared to his. Daemon unsurprisingly won his joust by breaking eight lances against his opponent, a knight from Fossoway. By the time the eighth match ended, it was noon, and the king announced a break. When the afternoon break ended, it was time for the next batch of knights to fight it out in the arena. 

The crowd came alive when the jousting started in earnest in honour of the fiftieth year of King Jaehaerys’ reign. Aegon stood prepared even as he kept a close watch on the second batch of knights duking it out in the tilts.

It took hours for his name to be called out again. This time, his opponent was a young knight from the Crownlands.

“Announcing Prince Aegon Targaryen and Ser Redmine Brune.”

They rode hard and broke lances against each other. Eleven times, they broke lances against each other, but neither was close to being knocked down from their horses. However, Aegon gained the upper hand on their twelfth tilt when his lance delivered a blow that dislocated the knight’s shoulder. With one dislocated shoulder, Ser Brune could not hold his lance properly. The knight accepted defeat instead of trying to joust with a handicap, making Aegon advance in the tilts.

“You look like you’re being boiled inside that armour.” Borros commented as he helped Aegon remove the armour from his body.

“You’ve no idea.” Aegon muttered while privately cursing himself for not knowing the cooling charm.

He had tried to use his magic to keep the temperature in the armour moderate, but it was not working. Sometimes, he could not understand how magic worked. It was as if there were different rules for different situations. Sometimes, his will and imagination were enough for the magic to work. But on rare occasions, knowing a spell and chanting the spell’s name aloud yielded better results.

That was a real blow to his wish to use magic, as he only knew a handful of spells. It was one of the reasons why he was most eagerly looking forward to getting his hands on the knowledge safeguarded in the vaults.

The rest of the jousts in the lists were as lengthy as his own bout. As the tilts continued to the evening, Aegon had more time to rest and freshen up. The one interesting thing that happened was that Ser Desmond Templeton, the Knight of Ninestars, unhorsed Daemon.  

“Tell me more about him.” Aegon said, looking at his sworn shield expectantly while jabbing his finger at the victorious knight.

“Never heard of him till now. He’s obviously a talented knight, but that’s no surprise, as he is a knight of the Ninestars. The Templetons have always produced good knights famed for their battle prowess.” said Ser Reginald, eyeing the Templeton knight critically.

Aegon hummed as he turned his sights on his brother, who looked like he wanted to unsheathe Dark Sister and challenge the Knight of Ninestars to a duel. But Daemon walked away from the jousting area with a frustrated yell after a long staring contest with King Jaehaerys.

His sense of enjoyment at Daemon’s failure only lasted till he found the angry red face of his older sibling get into his field of vision.

“You better defeat that prick from the Vale tomorrow.” Daemon scowled.

“You know, brother, I’m not as good as you.” Aegon said sarcastically.

But the dufus never picked up on the sarcastic undertone and merely walked away after letting out a grunt after getting his ego stroked.

‘And to think grandfather thought you are worthy of Dark Sister brother.’ Aegon thought with a snort.

****

“Congratulations, Aegon. You are the youngest knight in the family to make the final tilts.” Viserys beamed as he clapped Aegon’s back.

“It was all because my little niece was so supportive in the stands. Isn’t that true, Rhaenyra?” Aegon cooed, plucking his niece out of Aemma’s hands.

She immediately latched on to his hair and began earnestly tugging at it with a giggle.

“It looks like she thinks you’re a horse brother.” Viserys laughed at his daughter’s antics, who tried to climb into Aegon’s shoulders.

Aegon kept a safe hold on his niece’s body as she managed to climb herself to his shoulders and urged him on by pulling his hair.

“Careful.” Aemma warned.

“She is safe.” Aegon said as he slowly moved around to Rhaenyra’s satisfaction, making her happily giggle.

“You know, his grace talked to me about you being sent to Dragonstone.” Viserys said while watching amusedly as his younger brother acted like a horse to entertain his daughter.

“He did?”

“Yes. He asked me whether I’d like to join you in Dragonstone along with Aemma and Rhaenyra.”

“Did you say yes?” Aegon asked with hopeful eyes. “Having you, Aemma and my sweet niece on the island would be fantastic.”

“It’s more about what his grace wants, Aegon. Now that Lord Corlys has refused to take up his post as Master of Ships for all these years, his grace fears Dragonstone is suffering from maritime trade. He intends to remedy that.” said Viserys.

“Of course.” Aegon sighed, handing Rhaenyra to Aemma. “He is concerned Lord Corlys is amassing wealth in Driftmark at the expense of Dragonstone.”

“That is also true. Will you help me, Aegon?”

“Dragonstone will be your seat one day. I suppose it’ll be better to start familiarising with the island a little early.” Aegon said. “Of course, I’ll be happy to help you and Aemma in whatever capacity I can.”

“Thank you, brother.” Viserys grinned. “Oh, and best of luck for tomorrow. If you win, you’d be the youngest knight to have won a tourney.”

“If I win...” Aegon muttered as he stared after the retreating back of his brother and his family.

He became all the more determined to win the tourney by any means necessary.

****

The arrival of House Velaryon into King’s Landing was with a flair. Princess Rhaenys announced their arrival by circling the city atop her dragon, Meleys. The gleaming scarlet scales of the Red Queen looked mesmerising under the rays of the setting sun. Aegon went straight to the Dragonpit with Gael to welcome the princess into the Red Keep.

Also, he had to see the Meleys with his own eyes as the fierce she-dragon was his late mother’s mount. The fact that Meleys chose Rhaenys to be her next rider greatly helped his opinion about his cousin, and he had only fond memories of Prince Aemon.

“Princess.” Aegon dipped his head respectfully when his cousin climbed down from Meleys’ neck.

On the other hand, Gael ignored such formalities and hugged the Lady of Driftmark dearly. While people in the court often whispered that Gael was simple-minded and childish, Aegon only saw Gael’s deep love for people. Gael could be incorrigible on a good day with her bubbliness, but that was part and parcel of Gael’s character. It often had the effect of diffusing the tension in the room.

Aegon smiled as he watched how easily Gael managed to bombard Rhaenys with so many questions about her family. Out of all the Targaryens among the living, Princess Rhaenys was the odd one out, more so than him. While he sported mismatched eyes, Princess Rhaenys had black hair. In some sense, they were the odd ones in the family.

His eyes inevitably fell on Meleys, the dragon of his mother. The Red Queen was a sleek she-dragon but not as benevolent as Silverwing. When he moved close to the dragon, Meleys suddenly looked in his direction with her nostrils flaring and a growl in the back of her throat, making Aegon back away.

“Careful, Aegon.” Rhaenys warned.

“I apologise, cousin. I forgot myself.” Aegon backed away to a safe distance while watching the dragonkeepers patiently guide the Red Queen into the Dragonpit.  

“It’s understandable.” Rhaenys said with a nod.

Aegon watched the Red Queen disappear into the darkness of the pit, as did Gael and Rhaenys.

“Meleys has grown. She is now larger than Caraxes.” Gael commented.

“Faster as well.” Rhaenys said proudly.

“Grandmother is most eager to see you and the children. Please come with us, cousin.” said Aegon, inviting Rhaenys into a wheelhouse.

Gael and Rhaenys took the wheelhouse while Aegon rode on a horse along with the escort.

He eyed the two women inside the wheelhouse. They were the favourites of the queen.

The last few years have been cruel to his grandmother, who lost one daughter after another. Under such a time of loss, the presence of Princess Rhaenys and Gael kept his grandmother sane and together with his grandfather. With Aunt Maegaelle's passing, the wedge between the king and queen had only wide-eyed day by day.

When they finally reached the Red Keep, Laenor, Laena, and Lord Corlys had already arrived outside the castle walls. It was his duty to welcome the Velaryon family into the Red Keep and oversee their accommodations. Going by the cold shoulder Lord Corlys was showing to his father and grandfather, the Lord of Driftmark was not ready to forgive or forget the perceived injustice done to his wife.

Therefore, the family dinner his grandfather called was an awkward one filled with tension.

The only ones who were happily chatting away without a care about the tension in the room were Gael and Laena. Laenor was a bit more reserved and read the room even though he was the youngest.

Aegon had often marvelled at Gael’s ability to make people open up to her easily. The harmless vibe and her bubbly personality were undoubtedly an asset that made most people love her.

“Aegon has made many games for us to play since he was a child. They are the most fun. Come. I’ll teach you how to play Marbles and Carroms. Those are my favourites.” Gael said excitedly to Laena and Laenor.

“Aegon made these games? How?” Laena asked, looking at him with wide eyes full of admiration after Gael whispered about the games and how they were played nonstop.

“Well… I had nothing but time. You wouldn’t believe how productive a bored Targaryen can become when he is suitably motivated to engage an excitable Princess.” Aegon said with an easy shrug of his shoulders and an amused smile on his lips while Gael swatted his shoulder.

Even Princess Rhaenys had a ghost of a smile.

“I’ve heard you’ve moved up in the lists. It’s a fine accomplishment for someone so young, overcoming several grown warriors.” said Lord Corlys.

Aegon would’ve felt a sense of gratitude for such kind words from Corlys Velaryon if not for the fact that it was intended as a verbal barb at Daemon.

“I was lucky, that’s all.” Aegon said.

“Not just luck, Prince Aegon. Prince Aemon had often told me you had strong hands. Whenever he took you from your crib, you often had a strong grip on the prince’s fingers. He was sure you’d become a renowned knight in tourneys. It’d seem he was not wrong about you even though he was wrong about many other things.” said Corlys.

There it was again. Another dig at King Jaehaerys for stealing the birthright of Aemon’s daughter. This was why Aegon hated family gatherings like these. It was always the talk of politics and who got what.

‘There was never anything about grief, love, or anything that remotely affected the family.’ Aegon mused with a sigh.

He was not naïve to think politics and power should not be topics of discussion in the royal family. But it was the sole talk in family gatherings and totally unproductive.

“Come on Laena, Laenor. I’ll show you the news games.” Gael suddenly stood up. “Are you coming, Aegon?”

‘Bless her heart.’ Aegon thought.

He followed Gael out of the dining room with Laenor and Laena as fast as his legs could carry. Playing games with Gael and the Velaryon children was far more productive than whatever was about to happen at the dinner table. This he knew for sure.

****

The next day, Aegon was back in the tin can, toiling away as he faced his opponents in the joust.

The celebrations of King Jaehaerys’ fiftieth anniversary on the Iron Throne continued in full swing, with court jesters and bards providing a suitable flare in the court. For his part, Aegon was back to jousting against his opponents.

He didn’t know how he became so lucky because all his opponents fell before him one by one. Either he was extremely lucky or just that good with a lance.  

“I think the Warrior has blessed you today, my prince.” said Ser Reginald, giving him the shield as Aegon prepared to face off against his last opponent.

Ironically, Aegon ended up facing Ser Desmond Templeton in the finals to determine the winner of the tourney. The knight of the Ninestars had unhorsed his brother the previous day, and Daemon hated all things that came from the Vale.  

“Wish me luck.” Aegon muttered as he snapped the visor shut and strengthened his hold on the lance.

The horn blew loud and clear, making Aegon ride into the arena with his lance aloft. He ignored the screams from the crowd and focused entirely on his opponent. The Templeton Knight was strong and quick. But Aegon had one thing going for him for the whole tourney: luck.

Saying a silent prayer to Lady Luck, he jabbed the lance in his hand with full force. The tip smashed into the shield of Ser Desmond and broke, but the knight remained seated. Only when he reached the other end he realised his opponent had let him go unmolested. The Templeton knight never even attempted to strike Aegon with his lance.

Aegon was more insulted than anything else when that happened. Therefore, when they tilted their lances again, he was set on doing everything he could to unseat Ser Desmond.

Time crawled down to a halt as his heart hammered in his chest. Aegon’s eyes widened in a fraction of a second as he realised he was prepared to kill for victory in a measly tourney over an imaginary offence. With that realisation came a conflict within his mind as the words of the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts confronted him.

“Ambition, cunning, greatness…”

Those three words repeated over and over in his mind as he rode hard and fast against his opponent. When the time came, Harry made his choice. The lance in his hand smashed straight into the neck of Ser Desmond while the knight’s lance was deflected by his shield. The Templeton knight was thrown off his horse on the ground.

It was only when Aegon had crossed over to the other side did he realise what a horrible thing he had done. He turned his horse around and was ready to gallop towards his fallen opponent when Gael’s excitable yell and Daemon’s victorious shout reached his ears. The growing horror in his mind subsided when he saw the two celebrate at the royal pavilion. His eyes fell on Viserys, who was clapping but was not as expressive as Daemon and Gael. His grandfather had a stoney look while his grandmother was looking at him in concern.

“Aegon. Aegon. Aegon.”

The crowd started chanting his name while the servants dragged the unmoving body of Ser Desmond from the tourney ground. Aegon was surprised at his callous discard of his opponent, and it was at that moment, he knew that he was not as different from the rest of his family.

‘I’m sorry, Aunt Maegelle. It seems I’m a dragon through and through.’ Aegon thought as he assumed a bright smile and took the crown of flowers from one of the servants.

His horse trotted towards the royal box and placed the crown of flowers on Gael’s head. The bright smile and blush he received from his childhood friend was far more precious than the life of an unknown knight from the Vale.

‘No…that’s not entirely true. Victory is far more precious than the life of a stranger.’ Aegon thought.

****

“Idealism is truly dead.” Aegon muttered as he snapped his fingers.

Aegon stared into the flames that danced on the palm of his hand. Gold-yellow flames bathed his room in light in the early morning, with the sun slowly peaking from the edges of the horizon. The first light was barely up, and the city was covered in fog. The celebrations had ended with the melee’s end, which had unsurprisingly been a humiliating affair for his friend Borros. The headstrong attitude of the heir of Storm’s End made the guy pick a fight with a couple of knights instead of staying inconspicuous as he advised.

Still, Borros was happy despite the defeat, as he had a good fight on the field. King Jaehaerys had even personally commended Borros for his battle prowess and bold actions in the melee. Aegon could only roll his eyes when Borros preened as if it was the best of compliments instead of seeing the transparent manipulation.

Aegon supposed he was starting to see the world and everything in it with the same eyes as his grandfather to some extent. A few days back in King’s Landing, he had undone the wall he had built around his mind to safeguard himself from becoming a wily dragon like the rest of the family.

‘I suppose it’s better this way. A morally compromised dragon rider would bring only shame to the family.’ Aegon thought.

He didn’t know how long he sat there staring at the flames dancing in the palm of his hand. He had been spending sleepless nights ever since the tourney ended, and today was the day he was supposed to leave for Dragonstone.

But he came back to reality when a knock on the door distracted him. Snuffing out the flames in his palm, Aegon opened the door to find a woman who served in his grandmother’s retinue.

“Her grace requested your presence, my prince. She waits for you near Silverwing’s lair.”

Aegon dismissed the servant before returning to his room, deep in thought. Ever since the tourney, his grandmother had been acting distant towards him, which was a source of discontent inside him. It felt like he won the tourney but lost an important battle. He supposed his grandmother had high hopes that he’d remain different from the rest of the family.

Shaking such dreary thoughts away, Aegon freshened up as fast as he could before leaving his room behind.

The lair of Silverwing and Vermithor were not inside the Dragonpit like the rest of the dragons. The dragons of his grandmother and grandfather were the largest dragons after Vhagar. Both of those dragons were allowed to rest near the Red Keep, with a stone stable built for their stay. Vhagar was also afforded the same courtesy. But Aegon believed the three dragons were kept close to the Red Keep so that House Targaryen would never again suffer the same trouble Aenys’ heir faced during the rebellion. A dragon ride being cut off from their dragons was like a swordsman without a sword.

However, Silverwing and Vermithor were now essentially riderless. His grandmother and grandfather no longer had the health to ride the dragons. Still, both dragons were kept close by the castle, and no one had the guts to challenge Prince Baelor, who had the allegiance of Vhagar. While many extolled the Conciliator for keeping the peace, the truth was that the dragons of his family truly kept the peace in the kingdoms.

As Aegon exited the confines of the castle walls, he saw his grandmother standing before the towering form of Silverwing with dragon-keepers standing close by. The Queen was feeding her Dragon freshly caught fish. Silverwing was the first to notice his arrival as Aegon drew closer to the group. The she-dragon lazily blinked at him with her sparkling blue eyes while munching on the fish the Queen was feeding her.

“Grandmother.”

There was an awkward silence between them that was broken by his grandmother’s sharp command.

“Don’t just stand there. Help me feed this fish to her.”

Aegon sprung into action and began offering the fish stored in a barrel to the mighty dragon of his grandmother. Vhagar and Silverwing were the most battle-oriented she-dragons he knew. However, Silverwing was far more tolerant of strangers, unlike Vhagar, which even the dragonkeepers fear. Silverwing was calm and docile, making her manageable and approachable like he was doing now. If it were Vhagar or Vermithor, he wouldn’t have dared approach them without their riders’ presence.

“When did my grandson think killing to win was decent?”

Aegon paused, feeding the dragon for a moment. He took a long moment to think about what to say before resuming feeding Silverwing. He observed Silverwing’s eyes and saw no change in her lazy attitude. Sometimes, dragons express their rider’s emotions even when they are far away. He had seen it happen with his grandfather and Vermithor.

“It was not decent or honourable. But necessary.” Aegon said finally.

“Necessary? Does a Prince of the realm is in desperate need of gold that he kills his opponents in a joust?”

“I’m a third son. I stand to inherit nothing. I must earn every penny to make something of myself in the future.”

“Is this the same Aegon raised in the light of the Seven by Maegelle and myself?”

That wounded Aegon far deeper than any sword could cut.

“Idealism died with Aunt Maegelle. When his grace gave Dark Sister to Daemon, I knew no one would give anything to me. My father is the heir, which makes Viserys one as well. Daemon is the spare while I…” Aegon took a deep breath as he glared at the fish in his hand.

“I’m the third son of a Prince. I have no worth in the family other than being an object of amusement because of my strange gifts.”

“That is not true, Aegon.”

“Really? Then why did grandfather give Dark Sister to Daemon? Did he do something distinguishable that set him apart from Viserys or myself?” Aegon asked.

The silence that greeted him was enough of an answer.

Aegon was startled when Silverwing rubbed her snout against his hand. He picked a few more fish from the barrel and offered it to the dragon.

“Are your actions justifiable for the sake of you being denied a sword?” Alysanne asked with an infliction in her tone.

“No, grandmother. But I won’t apologise for winning where I can, what I can.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“When you go to Dragonstone, you’ll learn all you need to bond with a dragon. Viserys will guide you to our treasures in the vault. Do be careful, Aegon. The relentless pursuit for little scraps of power will leave you blind to what matters most to you.”  

“Strange you never bothered to give this advice to your husband when he took the throne that rightly belonged to your elder sister, Rhaena Targaryen and her children. Nor did you act when he stole it again from Rhaenys for my father.” Aegon said blandly.

He deposited the contents of the barrel on the floor for Silverwing, and the dragon happily gorged on the flapping fish on the ground. Aegon turned his back on his grandmother and her dragon as he walked away and never looked back.  

By noon, Aegon had boarded the Seawind for his journey to Dragonstone.

“I’ll not depend on the leftovers my grandfather and grandmother indulgently throw my way. If I depend on them, they’ll use me like they used Maegelle, Viserra, Daella and Aemon.’ Aegon thought as he stared at the harbour from the aft of the ship.

He could see Gael, Laena and Laenor wave at him from the harbour.

“Don’t worry, brother. We’ll see them again soon.” Viserys said, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “If you bond with a dragon, you can see them all at your convenience.”

“In that case, brother. I submit to your sage teachings o’ rider of the great Black Dread.” Aegon gave an exaggerated bow to his elder sibling, making Viserys laugh and Aemma grin at their banter.

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

Aegon flipped a page of his book as he reviewed some of the recent notes he had made while studying some of the sacred scrolls in the secret vaults. Waves crashed noisily into the shoreline of Dragonstone, and the salty scent of the sea was ever-prevalent. While Dragonstone was a dreary place, Aegon found some appeal to the ancient outpost of the Freehold.

It was his family's true seat of power in Aegon’s mind. No Targaryen worth their blood would ever say otherwise after they look upon the might of Dragonmont. The Iron Throne, the Red Keep, and the surrounding city were illusions of power. Those who commanded the Dragonmont commanded the true power in House Targaryen.

Unfortunately, the rest of the family didn’t share Aegon’s views. It was understandable, considering he was the only one gifted with magical powers in the family. His pyromancy only became strengthened near the Dragonmont.

Viserys thought it was a punishment or a test of some sort that landed him and Aemma in Dragonstone. Aegon didn’t wholly disagree as there was most likely an element of a test of competence involved courtesy of their grandfather.

Ever since their uncle Aemon died and their grandfather denied the throne to Princess Rhaenys, the post of Master of Ships had been left vacant in the Small Council. Lord Corlys had resigned from the post in protest over the insult to his wife. King Jaehaerys left the post vacant all these years for reasons beyond Aegon at the moment. It was almost as if his grandfather had a grudging respect for Lord Corlys but was too prideful to reconcile with the Lord of the Tides.

But his grandfather was not the only one with pride. Lord Corlys had refused to grace the seat of Master of Ships so far. This left the King in a bit of a quandary. The Royal Fleet had gone into disrepair in the absence of a Master of Ships. It was a serious oversight on the part of his grandfather. Now, Viserys was saddled with the responsibility of rejigging the Royal Fleet and the maritime commerce in Dragonstone. Both had suffered with the absence of the Master of Ships and a diligent authority in Dragonstone.

Aegon didn’t envy Viserys's job, but his elder brother had managed to do some serious work on the island so far. Together, they visited all the shipbuilders and port facilities. They had taken stock of the workers, the state of the ports, and the resources available the moment they set foot on the island. Many renovation works were discarded, and as a result, some of the ships anchored at Dragonstone were nearly useless.

The ports were no better. Without an iron hand to oversee their functioning, the officers on port duties were siphoning off funds that should’ve gone into Dragonstone's coffers. Aegon also learned that the officers tolled ships from Pentos and Myr while giving them free run on the ports during less favourable weather conditions. Aegon had investigated the nexus of guards and officers on the payroll of Myrish and Tyroshi captains. He had even run into a slave ring, but he had yet to move against them.

He was only charged with finding out all the information by his elder brother. As the eldest son of the Prince of Dragonstone, it was Viserys’ duty to discharge any punishments. Aegon suspected his brother was discussing the next course of action with maester Gerardys at the moment.

Letting out a sigh, Aegon admonished himself for getting lost in thoughts. He flipped the pages of his diary until he finally came to the last page, where he kept tabs on the sheep he fed to Sheepstealer. The bleat of the sheep made him look back, and he saw the four sheep he had secured for today were restless. But he also saw Aemma coming towards him with Rhaenyra in her arms.

“Aemma.” Aegon stood on his feet and acknowledged her with a nod while dusting off the sand that clung to his clothes.

“Aegon.”

“I see you had to bow to the whims of the little dragon.” Aegon amusedly noted, tickling the little bundle of joy in Aemma’s arms.

His niece giggled and tried to hide in the arms of her mother.

“So, no duck-watch today?” Aegon asked with a grin.

Watching ducks swimming in a nearby pond close to the Dragonmont was Rhaenyra’s favourite pastime in Dragonstone.

“Unfortunately, no. They didn’t come today.” said Aemma.

“Wave-watch!” Rhaenyra clapped her hands excitedly as a large wave crashed into the shore.

Aegon chuckled, seeing his niece’s excitement.

“Keep a close watch on the waves ‘nyra. Maybe a sea turtle might come ashore like last time.” Aegon said, petting her silver locks before eyeing his horse and the sheep.

“I apologise, goodsister. I must visit the Dragonmont.”

“Aegon, Viserys was asking for you.” Aemma said.

“I’ll visit him immediately after I try my luck with Sheepstealer.” he promised.

Aegon climbed on his horse while holding on to the ropes tied around the sheep's necks. Slowly, they made their way towards the eastern side of Dragonmont, where plenty of caverns lay. In one of those caverns, Sheepstealer would be resting. While Sheepstealer was a wild dragon, it was also harmless, as it had never attacked anyone on the island. It had an obsessive taste for mutton, but other than that, Sheepstealer was harmless.

It was still dangerous to try bonding with a wild dragon as old as Vermithor. But Sheapstealer was one of the largest dragons comparable in size to Vermithor. Aegon hoped to build a connection with the wild dragon, and someday, he hoped the dragon would choose him as its rider.

At the foot of the Dragonmont, Aegon jumped down from his horse. After tying it nearby, he climbed the rocky terrain of the Dragonmont with the sheep. There were small hot springs as he climbed higher, and he could see smoke coming out of the vents. But he neither felt any heat nor did he sweat. His unique magic was at its peak whenever he was at the Dragonmont. Here, his magical powers were tenfold strong, which allowed him certain leeway. Any kind of heat didn’t bother him the slightest. After all, he could hold the hottest flames in the palm of his hands.

A low growl came from one of the caverns, making Aegon pause. The sheep began bleating when the ground beneath them shook as the Sheepstealer crawled out of a cave. The dragon's muddy brown scales were covered in ash and soot as it fully emerged from the cave.

“I’m a friend. I brought you food.” Aegon said in High Valyrian, pointing to the sheep.

The enormous dragon blinked at him and then turned its full attention to the sheep. It snatched three sheep between its jaws in a single pass. Sheepstealer lazily munched on the sheep while keeping a wary eye on him. Aegon didn’t understand why the dragon was afraid of him of all people. If anything, he should be in fear as he took an enormous risk trying to bond with a wild dragon. He tentatively moved closer towards Sheepstealer after it became sufficiently distracted by gorging itself on fresh mutton. As he touched the scales of the muddy-coloured scales of the wild dragon, it let out a low growl in warning.

But Aegon didn’t move an inch back and continued to pet the dragon's scales as it devoured the sheep. Feeling a bit confident, Aegon moved closer to the head of Sheepstealer. Step by step, he came close, and Sheepstealer kept a close eye on his movement.

“I’m a friend,” Aegon softly said in High Valyrian and tried to touch the dragon's lower jaw.

But the moment his fingers grazed the scales, Sheepstealer let out a growl and turned his head away. Aegon moved back slightly as the dragon picked up the sheep and crawled back into its cave.

“At least I managed to touch the scales. That’s an improvement.” Aegon muttered before turning away from the cave.

When he returned to the castle, he found Viserys sitting on a chair in grief.

“Brother?” Aegon called tentatively while looking at askance at maester Gerardys.

“A raven came from the Red Keep, my Prince. Septon Barth has passed away in his sleep.” maester Gerardys said.

Aegon was struck by the news like any self-respecting Targaryen born during the reign of King Jaehaerys.

“We must make arrangements for our departure to the capital. Septon Barth deserves a proper and respectful burial.” Viserys said softly.

“Of course, brother.” Aegon said, placing his hand on his elder brother’s shoulder. “I’ll have our ship ready by tomorrow morning.”

****

The bells tolled throughout the capital as the entire city mourned the passing of Septon Barth. All colourful banners were lowered, and black flags were raised to represent the city’s mourning of the longest-serving Hand of the King. Some had credited King Jaehaerys’ prosperous reign to the guiding hand and wisdom of Septon Barth.

Septon Barth was the architect of reconciling the Faith with House Targaryen. His masterstroke, the Doctrine of Targaryen Exceptionalism, snuffed the flames of war that damaged the Seven Kingdoms. The rebellion of the Faith Militant and Maegor’s tyranny were the dark history of Westeros, and it was Septon Barth who helped King Jaehaerys solidify the hold of the Iron Throne.

But to Aegon and the rest of the Targaryen family, Septon Barth was more than just a political figure. The man was like an uncle to most of them. The close friendship between King Jaehaerys and Septon Barth was such that the Hand of the King became a part of the Targaryen family. It was Barth who gave Aegon the knowledge of letters. He learned the Common Tongue from Barth, as did Viserys and Daemon.

“Septon Barth, my best of friends, was a man of great wisdom and humble beginnings. He was born into this world as the son of a blacksmith. And now we honour him as the man who helped to bring peace to the realm, a trusted friend and revered spiritual man.”

Aegon watched from the sidelines as his grandfather delivered a moving eulogy to honour his friend before covering the body of Septon Barth with a Targaryen cloak. He supposed his grandfather likely saw Septon Barth as a brother rather than a friend in his later years. The silent sisters folded the cloak neatly and kept it close to the body before they began their prayers. It wasn’t long before Septon Barth was interned according to the last rites offered in the Andal fashion. The body was buried near a small sept on Rhaenys’ Hill.

Condolences had poured in from most lords of the realm, but they all had an ulterior motive as well. With Septon Barth’s passing, the office of the Hand was now open. Perhaps his grandfather foresaw Lords of the realm pouring into the capital to make their play for the office. The next morning, ravens flew from the Red Keep to all corners of Westeros, carrying the news of Ser Ryam Redwyne’s appointment as Hand of the King.

There were some disgruntled murmurs in court about Ser Ryam’s ascension. Some believed the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was not a good candidate for the post. After all, if Ser Ryam were to assume the Hand's duties, who would guard the king?

But for reasons unknown to most, including Aegon and the rest of the family, King Jaehaerys went ahead with his decision and pinned the badge of the Hand on Ser Ryam’s in full view of the court.

Aegon could only stare at his grandfather in stunned silence like most, but he supposed the man had been making such decisions for a few years. The decision to force Daemon to marry Rhea Royce was one such decision that, to this day, baffles Aegon. He found no political advantage in the match. Sure, having relatives in one of the prestigious great houses of Westeros was a boon, but there were other great houses. Besides, Viserys had already married Aemma Arryn, which gave them familial connections in the Vale. House Arryn was now married into House Targaryen, and one day, Viserys would sit on the throne, and after him, a king with Arryn blood would sit on the throne. Under such circumstances, forcing Daemon to marry Rhea Royce simply didn’t make sense.

Aegon shook his head before turning away from the court proceedings. If the court was filled with this level of drama, he couldn’t wait to see what kind of drama awaited him at the family dinner tonight, especially with his uncle Vaegon also arriving from the Citadel.

When the night fell, Aegon received the invitation to dine with the king. It was more of a direct order than an invitation, and Aegon attended like everyone else. When he arrived at the dining hall, he found his grandfather conversing with his uncle Vaegon.

“Grandfather. Uncle.” Aegon nodded respectfully at the two elders.

“Come sit by my side, Aegon.” Jaehaerys directed him to a seat immediately to his left.

“Umm…” Aegon was immediately wary as the spot was usually reserved for his grandmother.

“Is there a problem?” Jaehaerys asked upon seeing his hesitation.

“No. Not at all.” Aegon shook his head and slipped into the seat next to his grandfather.

“Vaegon was just telling me of your progress in your studies. Maester Alyn only had high praises for your talent to grasp the subject of medicines and poisons.”

Aegon nodded at his uncle, but he highly doubted that was the case.

It had been barely a month since he started his journey on the subject. It was not enough time for anyone to make a judgement, much less about a complicated subject like medicine. He had barely started to learn about anything with Maester Alyn. In the last month, he had made more strides in magic than in any other field of study.

“Now, tell me about Dragonstone. What have you found?”

“I thought Viserys had told you…”

“I’m asking you, Aegon.” Jaehaerys smoothly cut in with a frown.

“Our fleet is in disrepair, and we’ve been identifying the men responsible. The funds we’ve unceremoniously been dumping into Dragonstone had all gone down the drain. It’ll take much time and effort to retrieve even a portion of what we lost.”

“What about our ports itself?” Jaehaerys asked, his frown only intensifying with every second.

“The port officers are corrupt to the core. They’ve been taking bribes from Essosi captains in return for avoiding port duties. The revenue loss is incalculable since the books kept in Dragonstone are obviously fake. Some port officers have also used your decree of granting fee relaxation to Manderly ships to line their pockets.”

“How so?” Jaehaerys asked curiously.

“They’ve been falsifying records in our ports by marking certain ships as Manderly ships. When, in fact, Manderly ships rarely make their journey this far south.”

“How do you know they don’t?” Vaegon asked, breaking his silence.

“I’ve managed to contact the captains of Manderly ships prowling the Narrow Sea. They prefer Driftmark over Dragonstone as their preferred trading port.” Aegon answered truthfully, “The fact that you don’t know this is concerning, your grace.”

There was an awkward moment of silence between them, which was broken by his uncle Vaegon.

“Lord Corlys exacts a steep price on port duties.” Vaegon commented.

“Yes, he does.” Aegon nodded at his uncle, “But Lord Corlys hosts some of the best merchants and their wares in Driftmark. Why would any Northern ship looking for supplies to stave off the hunger brought forth by winter sail anywhere else?”

For a moment, his grandfather and uncle engaged in a silent conversation between themselves. But whatever their response was, he never heard a peep of it as the rest of the family started to walk in.

The dinner was a silent affair, and the tension at the dining table was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. His grandmother chose to sit close to Aemma and put Gael in between Aegon and herself. Ever since their spat, his grandmother hadn’t spoken a word with him or sent a letter. He had sent a note of apology after sense returned to him once he was in Dragonstone, which remained unanswered to this day.

“I've heard you and your brother have done splendid work finding the corruption among the Dragonstone garrison and our ports. Now, what do you hope to do to restore Dragonstone to its former glory?” Jaehaerys asked, steepling his fingers while pinning Viserys with a stare.

‘Former glory?’ Gael mouthed at him with a roll of her eyes.

Aegon struggled to laugh at her blatant insult. He doubted his grandfather didn’t see what his youngest daughter was doing, but Gael could get away with almost anything. She was the golden child of his grandfather and grandmother, who could do no fault.

But Gael was not wrong. There were no glory days for Dragonstone in the last five decades. Maybe there was in the time of the Freehold, but after that, Dragonstone was never a hub for trade in the Narrow Sea. The island could’ve been a trade hub had Maegor and the Faith Militant not wasted the formative years of King’s Landing by waging a destructive war. The war in the continent had devastated the confidence of merchants from across the Narrow Sea and drowned the Iron Throne in debt with the Iron Bank. Even House Velaryon held outstanding debts with the Iron Bank despite their rising wealth. It won’t be long, however, when Lord Corlys removes the debts of his family owed to the Braavosi. It was the same case for the Iron Throne, but the good thing was that the royal coffers received gold and silver from the Seven Kingdoms through taxes. These taxes played a crucial role in settling the debts with the Iron Bank and other local creditors.

But the woes of the Iron Throne were hardly over. Even though there were decades of peace under his grandfather’s rule, much of the wealth of House Targaryen was spent on restoring order in the realm, building the Kingsroad and completing the works in the city. Amidst all that, Dragonstone had gone unattended for years. Even though Prince Aemon served as the Prince of Dragonstone, he spent most of his time in the capital. The same was true for Prince Baelon.

The only piece of glory in Dragonstone was the Dragonmont and the dragons, who called it their home. There were no other grand symbols of power in Dragonstone that anyone outside the Targaryen family could possibly see.

Aegon paid only half an ear to the answer Viserys gave to their grandfather. Instead, he focused on the steak pie on the table. He looked at Gael and nodded at the pie on the table. They made a quick game out of it as they competed to see who could consume a larger portion in a short time. While the rest of the table descended into talks of politics and whatnot, they were competing with gusto.

But their game came to an abrupt halt when their grandfather turned his attention on Gael.

“My daughter is ten and nine. In a few months, she’ll be a woman of twenty namesdays. It’s time that she marry someone of suitable standi…” Jaehaerys started to say but was abruptly cut off by none other than his wife.

“No! You’ll not touch my daughter and use her for your political gains. Never again.” Alysanne almost snarled with a feral expression that shook everyone at the table.

“Alysanne!” Jaehaerys slammed his fist on the table.

Not to be outdone, Alysanne did the same by slamming her hand on the table, making Aegon flinch.

“Jaehaerys! I hope you hear me true and well. I’ll not let you or anyone else use my daughter in your schemes. She’ll marry when I say so, and that’s final.” Alysanne growled in anger as she stood up from her seat. “If anyone likes to think otherwise, they’ll find how hot Silverwing’s flames are.”

“Come, daughter. You’ve dined enough.” Alysanne said imperiously, dragging Gael out of the dining hall after delivering her threat.

“I won. You were too distracted, Gael.” Aegon shouted at her, showing his clean plate while her plate had some pie left.

He could hear Gael complain loudly to her mother for making her lose another one of their games.

When Aegon turned his attention back to the table, he was the recipient of several incredulous stares from Daemon, Viserys and his father.

“Your ability to engage in the most childish games while serious matters are being discussed astounds me, Aegon.” Baelon said reproachfully.

“Discussion? I only heard shouting instead of a civilised discourse. When there is a civil discussion in the family, I’ll be mindful not to bother the adults with my games father.” Aegon promised with a faux serious face.

“Enough, Aegon.” Jaehaerys warned, and that dissuaded him from making any more snide comments.

Having the king of the Seven Kingdoms annoyed at you was not a good prospect, especially when he had no dragon under his command.

Even though the dinner ended on a sour note, King Jaehaerys called Aegon and Viserys into his office after the dinner. Aegon noticed the presence of Ser Ryam Redwyne and maester Vaegon in the office.

“Sit.”

Aegon and Viserys followed the command and sat across from the table of their grandsire.

“The situation in Dragonstone is perilous, and I can no longer tolerate it. Therefore, I’ve decided on a punishment fitting for those corrupted men in Dragonstone. Hang half the corrupt men you found and leave the rest to confess their crimes. Their ill-begotten wealth must be seized, and Dragonstone must rise in stature with Driftmark.”

Aegon gaped at his grandfather as if he was seeing the man for the first time.

“Did you just tell us to kill half a hundred people and also revive Dragonstone to match the grandeur of Driftmark while we are at it?” Aegon asked incredulously.

“Are you telling me two dragons are no match against a sea horse?” Jaehaerys asked airily.

Aegon and Viserys remained in stunned silence at what was being asked of them.

“Your grace. How are we supposed to match Lord Corlys in wealth so suddenly? It’s impossible.” said Viserys.

“Shall I send Daemon to Dragonstone if you fear failure this much?” Jaehaerys asked innocently.

“Twenty thousand gold dragons and ten thousand silver stags must be sent to Dragonstone monthly for the next two years. We’ll also need two hundred trusted men and a proportionate number of knights to command those men. They must be loyal to the crown, preferably from the Crownlands.” Aegon immediately said before Viserys could ask for Daemon’s presence in Dragonstone.

“What? Aegon… I don’t…” Viserys spluttered.

“I assume we also have the power to make administrative decisions in Dragonstone?” Aegon asked, avoiding his brother’s eyes and focusing solely on his grandfather.

“Yes. Maester Gerardys will keep me informed of your decisions. If I find anything I disagree with, I’ll let you two know.” said Jaehaerys.

“The coin and the men that I asked?” Aegon looked expectantly.

“The coin will be ready by the time you’re ready to sail. The men will be ready by the end of this month.”

“Good. Then I give you my word we’ll match Dragonstone’s stature and wealth with that of Driftmark within two years.” Aegon promised with a straight face.

“You’re bold, Aegon. I’ll give you that. But many men have made promises before me. The question is, can you keep your promise?”

“I gave you my word, your grace. You’ll understand the value of my word within two years.” said Aegon with his head held high.

****

Jaehaerys watched his grandsons leave the room. Once the door slammed shut, he turned his attention to his newly appointed Hand and his son Vaegon.

“What do you think Vaegon?” Jaehaerys asked, looking curiously at his son.

“I think Baelon is as stupid as I remember him. Viserys is a lazy man content with the trappings of opulence, Daemon is an overexcited child, and Aegon is the only one with a drive for excellence and learning.” said Vaegon with a snort.

“Prince Viserys is also a kind and merciful soul who even tamed the Black Dread. Prince Daemon is a puissant warrior. It’d be unkind to overlook the princes’ other attributes, your grace,” Ser Ryam Redwyne reminded him.

“Maegor also rode the Black Dread. Did that make him a good king? King Aenys was merciful, but did that stop people from rebelling?” Vaegon asked, glaring at the Kingsguard knight, who looked abashed.

“Baelon and many in the family coddle Viserys and Daemon too much. Aegon’s strength comes from his self-reflection that he must make something of himself. That’s an admirable trait lacking in my brother and his two children. They thrive in knowing they will succeed my father without any challenge.”

“I agree with Vaegon. They do not give due diligence to the threat posed by Lord Corlys and his children. They’re self-assured in their positions save for Aegon.” said Jaehaerys with a thoughtful frown.

“Then perhaps, your grace should speak with Prince Baelon. Your guidance would surely help the prince.” Ser Ryam advised.

“Baelon is no longer a child. He must learn from his mistakes. The only thing he has done well so far was keeping Aegon at arm’s length.” Vaegon said with a snort.

“You seem to like Aegon, yet you’ve hardly spoken to the boy. Perhaps you’d take up an interest in passing your knowledge to…”

“Spare me your plots, father.” Vaegon immediately cut in before he got saddled with his nephew's education.

“Then I’ll trouble you with the matter of Gael’s marriage.”

“You shouldn’t. I have no interest in testing the heat of Silverwing’s flames.” Vaegon deadpanned.

“Have you taken leave of your senses like your mother, Vaegon? Your sister is old enough to give me grandchildren. How long do you reckon a noble lady of a great house remain unmarried?” Jaehaerys thundered.

“Fine!” Vaegon huffed. “If you want my suggestion, then here it is. Have Gael betrothed to Lord Rickard Redwyne’s heir, Ser Alfred Redwyne.”

“Alfred Redwyne?” Jaehaerys frowned thoughtfully before turning his sights on his Hand.

“What is your opinion, Ser Ryam? After all, he’s your nephew.” Vaegon posed the question with a pointed look.

“My nephew is an accomplished Knight and a leal man, your grace. He is two and twenty and he served as Lord Hightower’s squire. House Redwyne would be blessed and honoured to accept Princess Gael as the future lady of the Arbor.” Ser Ryam said with grace.

Jaehaerys frowned thoughtfully into the distance.

“Lord Rickard also has a daughter, doesn’t he?” Jaehaerys asked as a plan started to form in his mind.

“Yes, your grace. My niece Alicia is a sweet girl.”

“Age?”

“Your grace?” Ser Ryam blinked in surprise.

“Your niece’s age, Ser Ryam.”

“Four and ten, your grace.”

“Hmm…” Jaehaerys hummed thoughtfully.

“Your father was a loyal man, Ser Ryam. He served faithfully in the Small Council and built the Royal Fleet from nothing after Maegor gutted it. If the Shiver hadn’t taken him, your father might’ve been sitting in the Small Council as my Master of Ships.”

“My father was an honourable man, your grace. He and my elder brother passed away before their time.” Ser Ryam said, nodding at the King graciously for his kind words.

“Yes. I propose another betrothal between Aegon and your niece, Alicia Redwyne. Two royal marriages shall bind House Targaryen and House Redwyne in their destinies for generations to come.” Jaehaerys declared. “What say you, Ser Ryam?”

****

Aegon celebrated his fifteenth namesday in the Red Keep instead of Dragonstone. He should've left for the island, but the unexpected delay in procuring the coin from the treasury facilitated an extension of his stay in King’s Landing. It also helped that he got the time to recruit a couple of knights from the city for what was to happen in Dragonstone. The city being host to many knights of the Crownlands made it easier to recruit some fresh blood for what was undoubtedly a bloody and dangerous campaign at Dragonstone.

If a Targaryen started fearing for his life in Dragonstone, of all places, their tenuous hold on the island was quite apparent. It was a shame that most of his family had written off Dragonstone as a dreary place. It was not as populous as King’s Landing or bustled with foreign merchants like Driftmark, but Aegon loved it all the same. Perhaps he loved it far better than the capital. The smell alone strongly motivated Aegon to love Dragonstone over King’s Landing.

Even his namesday celebration didn’t brighten up Aegon. The tension in the capital was thick as the king and queen were at odds once again. Therefore, any celebration had gone out of the window. Still, his grandfather had ordered a feast to celebrate Aegon’s namesday.

But Aegon was content with the gifts and even a rare smile his grandmother had reserved only for him when she gifted him a handmade cloak. Despite the thaw in their relationship, he had made up with his grandmother.

There was a time when he could remember spending his birthdays all by himself in a dark corner of a cupboard. Compared to that, he felt like he was having the time of his life. Sure, there were disagreements and rivalries within the family, but he’d take a dysfunctional family over not having one at all.

Suddenly, a handful of seawater splashed on his face, making him cough and splitter.

“What was that for?” Aegon yelled between coughing and spitting out the salty water and sand that went into his mouth and nose.

“You were brooding again when you should be happy today.” Gael huffed, splashing more seawater as another tide came forward to wet their feet.

“All right. I’ll be happy from now on.” Aegon raised his hands in surrender and began laughing exaggeratedly.

“Hmm… I’ll be the judge of that. Now, help me collect more seashells. I want to make a necklace for Rhaenyra and Aemma.”

“Yes, my queen. Your words are my command.” Aegon performed an exaggerated bow, making Gael giggle.

Gael suddenly stopped laughing and assumed a serious look. Her eyebrows scrunched together, and her lilac eyes suddenly became sharper.

“Mother says I don’t have to listen to father, and I can marry anyone I like.” Gael suddenly said, making Aegon blink a few times at the sudden tangent their conversation went.

“I assume she also said you can pick someone within reason.” Aegon said tentatively, knowing this was a delicate matter.

The last thing he wanted was for him to get involved in the tug-of-war between his grandfather and grandmother.

“Within reason? What do you mean?” Gael asked, tilting her head to the side.

“You can’t obviously marry a commoner. I don’t think grandfather or grandmother would stand for that. So, the least worthy candidate would be a landed knight, and that’s being generous. I suspect they’ll both search for a man from one of the great houses.”

“I see. What if I already love a knight? He has no substantial lands to his name, but his family is wealthy and powerful. But most importantly, I know he’d never mistreat me, and he makes me happy.”

“Then I suggest that you inform grandmother about this mystery knight. She might approve of this knight once she meets him, and we can leave her in charge of convincing grandfather.” Aegon suggested.

“That’s sound advice.” Gael said brightly before a shy look graced her delicate features. “There is one other thing, Aegon.”

“What’s it? Do you want me to accompany you to inform grandmother about this mystery knight?” Aegon asked.

“No. I’ve already told mother about the knight, and she approved.”

“Oh! So, do you need me to support your choice before grandfather? I can do that.” Aegon nodded, but Gael shook her head.

“I’ve yet to tell this knight of my love for him.” Gael said with a blush.

Aegon started laughing hard upon hearing that.

Suddenly, a pair of lips smashed against his own, forcing Aegon to go silent. He stared into Gael's lilac eyes as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her body. She took turns to nibble at his lower and upper lips. His hands were now suddenly on her waist on their own accord, and it was only then that he realised he was enjoying the kiss just like Gael, who had her eyes closed in bliss. Her fingers were now threading through his hair while their lips were engaged in a sensual battle that neither of them was willing to concede.

It felt like his lungs were burning, and his heart was ready to break out of his ribcage and fly away to the distant stars. With a gasp, they separated for some much-needed air.

Gael was smirking at him even as she struggled to breathe after they broke apart.

“Gael…” he started to say, but she immediately clamped his palm over his mouth.

“I know what you’re going to say. You’ve made your thoughts known about the incest in our family many times. But be sure to keep this in your mind, Aegon. If I’m to marry someone, it’ll be you and no one else.”

“Gael, I don’t think everyone else will approve…”

“My mother approves, and I know you love me.” Gael said, cutting him off.

“How do you know I love you?”

“I know.” Gael said softly, touching his lips tenderly while gazing into his eyes with an intensity that made him forget himself.

Soon, they were kissing again, and this time, it was Aegon who pulled Gael into the kiss.

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

Aegon was so confused when he left King’s Landing. That confusion didn’t change when he set foot in Dragonstone. Even when he led his men to root out the corrupt officers in the parts of Dragonstone, that confusion persisted.

His woes started after Gael kissed him and confessed her love for him. While he had no trouble kissing her back, he was now suffering a mental crisis.  

He liked Gael, no question about that, but the incest part made him queasy. Even his own existence was weird to wrap his head around, considering he was the son of Baelon and Alyssa. His parents were siblings, and now he was supposed to follow in their footsteps by marrying inside the family.

Aegon knew why House Targaryen followed the custom of brother marrying sister. It was to keep the dragons within the family and not allow another family to usurp their dragons. There was also the fear of losing the ability to bond with the dragons should Targaryens breed with those they consider their lesser. Only the members of House Velaryon were considered a safe marriage by his family as they were a Valyrian house with substantial Targaryen blood in their family.

But even that was in jeopardy with House Velaryon exerting more influence in the Crownlands and a dragon under their command.

Under these circumstances, Aegon could see the advantage of choosing Gael as his life partner. If he married outside the family, he could end up creating more factionalism within the family. The Velaryons have already formed a faction, and Aegon feared the same would happen with Daemon once Lady Royce gives his brother children of his own.

He liked Gael enough to marry her even though he was squeamish about the incestuous nature of such a relationship. He also had to consider this from Gael’s perspective. Her fear of being sold to some ‘old bloated Andal’ for political expediency was a genuine concern. Aegon liked to think he knew his grandfather better than most, and he knew the man wouldn’t bat an eye to act against his own blood if there was a political advantage.  

Right now, his grandfather was looking to prop up his father’s claim on the throne and suppress the rise of House Velaryon. To that end, King Jaehaerys would do anything to prevent another house in Westeros from gaining power comparable to House Velaryon.

Aegon had always wondered why his grandfather allowed Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys to marry. After all, Viserys could’ve married Rhaenys, and the succession of the throne would’ve been secure within the family.

Aegon shook his head and started to rub his forehead as it began to throb by going in circles about his concerns.

“My prince. Are you well?” Ser Reginald asked in concern.

“I’m fine, Ser.”

“If you're feeling unwell, you might want to return to the castle. We can handle the traitors of the crown.”

“No,” Aegon said firmly, “My King charged me to dispense justice on those who betrayed his trust. I’ll oversee that his will is done, Ser Reyne.”

His sworn shield nodded and stayed silent like the rest of the men.

Aegon was sitting atop his horse, with fifty men behind him on their horses, overlooking one of the ports. They patiently waited for one of their own to report back to them before moving in on the officers. Aegon had arranged for a ship from King’s Landing to sail into Dragonstone’s port and charged a few men to bribe the officers. He intended to catch these men red-handed with their ill-begotten wealth.

“My prince. Someone is coming.”

Sure enough, he could hear the sound of a galloping horse nearing their position. Thankfully, it was the man he had tasked to arrive by ship. Ser Patrice Brune was a distant cousin of the current head of House Brune of Brownhollow. The men of Crackclaw Point were Targaryen loyalists to their bone.

Although most of them supported Maegor, that era had passed. Queen Visenya was no more, and Maegor died a fitting death, like the traitor and usurper he was.

This left his major supporters in a quandary. The men of Crackclaw Point were now leal servants of the crown. Only time would tell whether the knight of Brownhollow was as loyal as he claimed.

Still, Aegon was willing to give the man a chance.  

“My prince.” The brown-haired knight greeted him, stopping a few feet from Aegon.

“I’m happy to see you’re here, Ser Patrice.” Aegon nodded at the knight of Brownhollow. “I suppose you can lead us to the port.”

“Of course, my prince. I posed as a local merchant in touch with Myrish glass merchants. I negotiated a small deal with the port officers for my ship to be in port for five days. I paid upfront, just like you said.”

“Very good.” Aegon grinned before turning to the rest of the assembled knights, “Now, let's put some heads on spikes.”

Aegon didn’t enjoy the task at hand, and he was careful to remove the corrupted officers without causing a huge scene in the harbour. The last thing he wanted was to scare off potential customers. But the last few weeks, he had been a learning experience for Aegon. He was slowly getting accustomed to the iron hand of power and law. It didn’t help that he failed to uphold his morals when it mattered most.

The knight he killed intentionally weighed heavily on his mind, but at the same time, he also understood that no one would be giving him anything freely.

Now, he keenly felt his position in the royal court was precarious. With his budding romance with Gael, he’d undoubtedly attract the wrath of his king and father.

Therefore, he didn’t shed tears for the executions he oversaw in Dragonstone. He was ruthless and gave no quarter to those he found guilty. He not only punished the officers but also recovered the revenue loss by attaching the officers’ possessions. Most of the families of these officers were on the receiving end of his brand of justice, forcing them into crippling poverty and no roof over their heads.

Aegon knew most of those families would die of hunger or disease. In the worst case, those families might fall into the bottom end of society by making a living out of selling their daughters.

The stench of the rotting heads lining the pikes on the wall brought Aegon out of his musings as he walked along the wall-walk of the castle.

“How can men stand guard in these walls with this smell? Remove these heads.” Aegon ordered.

He looked out into the sea as the men rushed to obey his orders. He could see the harbour in the distance and the relatively peaceful atmosphere in the castle. In one fell swoop, he had carried out two dozen executions across the island within a week. Then, he had to force himself to oversee the families of those corrupted officers being thrown out into the street.

It was more than Harry could bear, and Viserys hiding himself in his chambers with Aemma and Rhaenyra didn’t help anything. Right now, he was feeling a surge of jealousy and anger towards Viserys more than Daemon.

At least Daemon had the skill to wield a blade like Dark Sister. Viserys, on the other hand, was blessed with the position of heir to Prince Baelon, but he was an expert in running away from his duties. Instead of helping him clean up, Dragonstone Viserys was content to hide in his room.

‘It almost feels like the entire world is acting against me.’ Aegon thought.  

But he couldn’t curl up in a corner and curse the world for making his life incrementally difficult. That’d be the stupidest thing that could be done for someone in his position.  

Instead, he poured himself into his studies of Valyrian magic and dragon lore. Most of the scrolls in the vault often contained violent and cruel blood magic that left a bad taste in his mouth. It was pretty challenging to weed out some of the most brutal and most hateful magics from the treasure trove of knowledge locked away in the vault. Separating the despicable and useless magic from useful knowledge took time, but he occasionally found certain treasures.

For instance, he found a method to augment his pyromancy skills. The knowledge was lying in wait in an old dusty scroll where runic enchantments consecrated in silver functioned as amplifiers to his innate fire magic. Of course, there was the requirement of strengthening rituals every three years to be performed on a volcano. But that was a slight disadvantage considering the slew of blood sacrifices required for most Valyrian magics.

When he got free time in the evenings, Aegon went on a trek to the caverns of Dragonmont. He’d take sheep to the caves and present them to Sheepstealer.

At first, he found Sheepstealer very charming, but his defiant streak was faintly amusing. The dragon liked Aegon well enough to come out of his lair and feast on the sheep and pigs he brought. But it came to a point that he was starting to get tired of the routine because of the lack of any results. Despite spending months on the island, he could not woo Sheapstealer to bond with him. It was dampening his mood despite the success he enjoyed in his magical studies.

‘Sooner or later, I’ll have to devise a different strategy or concentrate my efforts on another dragon,’ Aegon mused.

****

The glass candles were said to be one of the greatest Valyrian inventions. They were made of obsidian, but a rare few were built using emeralds. It supposedly had the power to give visions to a proper master of magic of lands thousands of leagues away. In the hands of a true master of magic, the glass candles supposedly could invade people's dreams and even see the past and future.

But Aegon didn’t know whether most of these claims were true. After nearly an hour of staring into the black obsidian glass candle, nothing happened.

He managed to light the candle, but nothing else happened, which was a shame. Lighting the candle was an easy thing to do. All he had to do was focus his magic to form a rift between his palms, and the candle lit up. He used a similar method when he used pyromancy.

But activating some of the finer functions of the glass candle eluded Aegon.

‘Hmm. What if I use the same trick to enchant objects with listening charms?’ Aegon pondered.

He reached out with all his fingers, touched the obsidian on the glass candle, and used the enchantment.

Immediately, Aegon felt his feet being swept from underneath him. It was as if he was being pulled into the eye of a storm. Sounds started to bombard his ears, and soon, flashes of images flew past his eyes. The pain started to flare up in his body as the sensory overload simply beat down his mind.

He suddenly found himself face-first on the ground in stark silence. When his vision cleared, he saw a red sky and black smoke around him. His eyes widened when he saw hundreds of dragons flying leisurely in the red sky. He saw towers and grand palaces reaching as tall as the clouds. There was a sprawling city all around him as the fog surrounding him slowly receded, making Aegon see more and more of the city.

And then a terrible tremor passed, upping the building from the ground. The large, expansive trees, with roots as thick as the hindlegs of a fully grown dragon, uprooted themselves as the ground beneath them tore asunder. Steam rose from the fused stone roads of the Valyrian Empire. The ponds and fountains in the city boiled as steam rose from them.

Then, as one, the Fourteen Flames came alive as one. With one voice, they roared with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Dragons roared as they were burned away in the sky. The guzzling heat tore away the scales of dragons as miasma tore through the most powerful empire of Essos. Dragons found they were not fire made flesh, and they screamed, but so did Aegon. He was consumed by a pillar of lava that tore through the ground right beneath his feet.

Suddenly, the pain disappeared, and Aegon found himself standing before a giant red dragon. The beast towered over him, and he could only gape at its size. It was as tall as a mountain, its teeth the size of long spears. Unlike the dragons of Dragonstone, this one had two additional limbs in addition to the hind legs.

The dragon blinked at him almost lazily as it stared at Aegon like he was a fly.

“What do you seek, child?”

Aegon looked around at the all-encompassing sound that pressed heavily in his mind. It took him a moment to reconcile with the fact that the red dragon was talking to him.

‘What do I say? What do I seek? Is this all in my head?’ Harry worried privately in the confines of his mind. ‘Am I going insane? Am I dreaming?’

“Your ancestors sought knowledge. But their thirst for knowledge turned into a lust for power. But they soon grew bored of power and sought immortality. Look at their fate now.”

“The Doom.” Aegon whispered.

“Yes. So, what do you seek?”

Aegon stared at the massive dragon, completely lost. He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Your name.” Aegon said.

He watched the dragon cock its head to the side as it observed him. He got the distinct impression that the dragon was amused. Seeing that the dragon was not turning him into a crisp, he became slightly emboldened.

“My name is Aegon Targaryen. What is your name, great dragon?” Aegon asked, gazing expectantly at the dragon.

“You want to know my name? You don’t want the power to rule the world, the knowledge to build great cities, or the spirit to live for centuries?”

“No. Your name will suffice.” Aegon said.

The dragon lowered its massive head and stared at Aegon.

“Interesting. Then, take my name along with my flames, Aegon Targaryen.”

The gigantic dragon opened its jaws wide, making Aegon step back in fear. Suddenly, he was consumed by pure white flames, but one word resounded loud and clear in his mind as his feet were swept from underneath him.

Harry found himself in the vault holding the glass candle. The flame on the candle was no longer yellow; instead, it was now bright silver.

“Gaelithox, guardian of the sacred flames,” Aegon whispered, and the candle flickered as if happy.  

****

Appointing new officers in the harbour and the keeper of keys in Dragonstone was supposed to be Viserys’ job. But as usual, Aegon was saddled with duty while his brother wasted away in wine, bards, plays and queer company.

He didn’t complain about his brother’s lack of interest in ruling Dragonstone, but he did his duty. It took quite a lot out of him, but he hired new men and promoted some he felt deserved a raise in stature. The dragon keepers who watched over the eggs received a pay raise for their good work.

In Dragonstone, the dragon keepers were his steadfast allies and a source of good information. Through them, he learned whom to trust and who to hire. Ser Reginald was also adept at sniffing out lazy bums and lickspittles. He called it his ‘lion senses’.

Once Aegon had replaced the harbours and ports of corrupt officers with loyal men, he turned his attention to inviting merchants from across Westeros and Essos.

His plan to attract trade from the Narrow Sea was not to give any offers to the merchants or ship captains in the first phase. Dragonstone could ill afford to bleed any gold or silver that it received as port duties while they were restoring and building new harbours and ports on the island.

Instead, his grandfather, on his recommendation, offered tax breaks in King’s Landing to the merchants who used the ports in Dragonstone. He was very careful to whom he extended his offer. When the delegation of merchants met with him in Dragonstone, there was only one merchant each from Braavos, Tyrosh, Lys, Myr, and Volantis. The rest of the merchants he met that day were all from Pentos.    

The Pentoshi were deeply pleased with the preferential treatment their merchants received. They were the chief spice traders, and his grandfather had an amicable relationship with the Free City of Pentos. They were so happy with the Crown's tax breaks that the Prince of Pentos officially sent a delegation to Dragonstone with an invite to visit their city.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea, brother.” Viserys said.

As usual, his lazy older brother was the naysayer.

“Why not? Grandfather sent us to develop Dragonstone. We can’t do that without the help of our natural trade partners. The Free City of Pentos is our closest and favoured trade partner from across the Narrow Sea. We cannot ignore this invite without causing offence to the Prince of Pentos.” Aegon explained slowly and carefully with a lot of patience, but Viserys shook his head.

“You can go in my stead, brother. I trust you to handle such matters, and besides, you’re the architect of this entire enterprise. You should claim the credit for the success, not me.” Viserys smiled at him and gave him a proud look.

Sometimes, Aegon wished his brother had an ambitious bone in his body. His brother trusted too easily and blindly without any reservation, and that could be a problem going forward.

“You do not understand, brother. It’s not about who gets to claim credit. You are the heir to the throne after our father. One day, you’d be king, and the Prince of Pentos expects to meet the future king of Westeros.”

“I don’t think this is such a good idea.” Viserys muttered distractedly.

“Oh, come on, brother. We can bring Aemma and Rhaenyra with us. Surely, they’ve never set sights on a beautiful city like Pentos. This would be a good opportunity for them to enjoy Pentoshi hospitality, meet new people, hear new songs and watch new plays.” Aegon touched on the familial angle to get Viserys to agree. “It’d be like one grand family adventure.”

When Aegon saw the spark of interest lit in Viserys’ eyes, he knew he had succeeded.   

“I guess it’ll be wonderful to travel as a family and enjoy the sights.” Viserys said thoughtfully.

“I’ll try my best not to let the talk of trade and other courtly duties affect Aemma and Rhaenyra. They’ll surely have a wonderful time, and I hear Pentos has a warm sun this time of the year. Surely, Aemma and Rhaenyra would enjoy some warmth on their skin.”

“You have convinced me, brother.” Viserys said with a chuckle. “Now, enough talks of trade and politics. Tell me of your attempts with that wild dragon.”

“I’m afraid there is nothing exciting to report,” Aegon muttered as they walked along the castle's wall-walk, enjoying the sea breeze.

Now, wasn’t that an understatement? He thought being blessed by the Valyrian god of flames would make that stupid dragon bond with him. But nothing in his life was ever so simple. If anything, Sheepstealer avoided him like the plague these days. The dragon won’t even be enticed to come out of its lair even if he offered sheep.

“Come now, Aegon. Why are you insisting on forcing yourself by pursuing a wild dragon? They have become accustomed to their freedom and alienated themselves from bonding.” said Viserys.

“I fear you might be right.” Aegon sighed, seeing the sense in his brother’s opinion. “I might’ve wasted months on a failed quest.”

“Fear not, brother. You’ll find a strong young dragon in the dragonpit. The next time we visit the capital, I will accompany you and help you find a suitable dragon.” Viserys smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“That’d be for the best, I think.” Aegon said gratefully.

Whatever the faults, Viserys was the owner of a kind heart. It was an endearing quality that was abundant in his brother. It was one of the reasons why he liked Viserys, but it also made his brother vulnerable.

“Perhaps this might also be an opportunity for you, brother.” Aegon said thoughtfully as they climbed down the stairs from the wall walk to the castle’s training yard.

“What do you mean, brother?” Viserys asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve been dragonless for too long. This might be the ideal time to seek a new dragon for yourself. We could seek dragons from the pit together.” Aegon suggested happily.

Whatever Viserys was about to say was drowned out by the terrifying roar of a dragon in the sky. It was immediately followed by painful screeches from another dragon.

Aegon could only gape in utter bafflement and fear as he saw the familiar form of Sheepstealer crashing into the training yard of the castle, kicking up a dust cloud.

“What in the name of the Seven is happening?” Viserys shouted.

Aegon concurred with his older brother's sentiments. He also wanted to know what was going on, but the dust cloud and an injured wild dragon in close proximity shifted his priorities to getting out of this alive.

“We must escape. That dragon will cook us alive and eat us for lunch.” Aegion said with fear.

“Climb up the stairs and retrace our steps through the wall walk. We can take refuge in the tower.” Viserys suggested.

“Sounds like a good plan.” Aegon nodded.

Before they could take a single step to proceed with the plan, a giant shadow fell on them, and then the stone beneath their feet trembled. Aegon couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp as a gigantic, black-as-night dragon settled itself on the wall of the castle, blocking their path. Its massive hind legs crushed the stone underneath.

Aegon and Viserys exchanged a worried look and slowly backpedalled, careful not to attract the attention of the mighty beast before them.

There was no doubt in his mind about the identity of the foe that they were facing. It was the bane of all dragons in Dragonstone. The Cannibal had graced them with its terrifying presence.  

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

Viserys was in a unique but dangerous position. He was standing right in between two massive temperamental wild dragons. Sheepstealer was not usually a harmful dragon, but it was a dragon with extraordinary strength and a penchant for being aggressive to anything that challenged it. It was also one of the older dragons on the island after Vermithor and Silverwing.

The Cannibal, on the other hand, was the most dangerous dragon in the world after Vhagar because of its sheer size and character. The dragon had made it a habit of picking fights with other dragons and making dinner out of them. Its avarice for dragon flesh and bones made it one of the most dangerous creatures in existence. The Cannibal was one of the reasons there were not as many dragons in the Dragonmont. It was also a major reason the Dragonpit was built in King’s Landing.

The Cannibal’s presence in Dragonstone had culled many young dragons. The hatchlings would find themselves as food for the Cannibal. Even some large dragons that dared to challenge it found themselves as food. The dragon stayed well out of anyone else’s way, especially when larger dragons like Vhagar, Silverwing, and Vermithor were present on the island.

So, it was just his luck that he and Aegon somehow ended up right in the middle of Sheepstealer and the Cannibal.

“Do not make any sudden movements. They’ll burn us to a crisp.” Viserys whispered to his brother as he stared at the wild dragons in abject terror.

“So, what’s the plan?” Aegon whispered back. “If we stay, we’ll be crushed when these dragons tumble, and if we move, these two might scorch us to death.”

That was a quandary Viserys keenly knew. Dragons were temperamental, especially wild dragons. He also knew dragons took any sudden movements as hostile, especially when they were primed for battle.

“Sheepstealer knows you. Perhaps it’d be less inclined to see us as a threat with the Cannibal this close.” Viserys muttered, desperately hoping his brother’s many attempts to woo the wild dragon would make it predisposed to disregard them.

“So, we move towards Sheepstealer?” Ageon asked, which gave Viserys pause.

“We’ll take a slow, tentative step backwards and see how it’ll behave.” Viserys said finally.

“All right. On three, then.” Aegon whispered back.

Viserys took a deep breath, counted to three, and stepped backwards with his younger brother. The roar from Sheepstealer made him flinch.

Not one to back down from a challenge, the Cannibal also let out a terrifying roar that rattled his bones.

Looking up at the glinting black scales of the Cannibal, Viserys was reminded of his late mount, Balerion. The Black Dread’s presence was more than enough to scare men and dragons alike. The Cannibal also had that same effect on people despite not being the largest dragon. It was one of the reasons why no one had tried to put an end to the dragon. The Cannibal was a cunning and dangerous foe.

'And now, that foe has ended up inside the walls of the castle where my wife and daughter were…'

Viserys' eyes widened at the thought. He realised belatedly that if the dragons fought inside the castle walls, everyone, including his wife and daughter, would die. In his desperation, his eyes fell on the closed door of a tower, and an idea started to form in his mind.

“I'll create a distraction by running towards that door. When I do that, you'll run inside the castle and find Rhaenyra and Aemma. Take them as far away from the castle.” Viserys said, after gathering his wits.

“What?” Aegon asked with wide eyes.

“Promise me you'll protect them.” Viserys asked earnestly.

Viserys watched his little brother stare at him with wide eyes before a strange gleam entered his brother’s eyes.

“No child should grow up without their parents.” Aegon said firmly.

Before Viserys knew what was happening, his brother kicked his legs from underneath, making him fall. With growing horror, he watched his little brother run towards the tower while shouting at the dragons.

“No!” Viserys whispered in horror.

The two dragons stopped glaring at each other and focused on his brother.

“No!” Viserys cried as the dragons opened their maw and breathed fire on his brother. The Cannibal spat out purple flames while Sheepstealer spat out blood-red flames.

He watched teary-eyed as his little brother was consumed by the wild dragons' fire. Taking a deep breath, Viserys ran towards the castle's main keep, crying for his lost brother. He saw knights with their swords drawn, men with spears and shields, and archers with their bows pointed at the dragons.

“Don’t attack the dragons. Get inside now.” Viserys ordered, clamping down on the grief.

“My prince, look.” Ser Reyne said, nodding at the dragons.

When Viserys looked back, he saw something impossible. His jaw dropped open in disbelief as he saw the purple and red flames of the two dragons being pushed away from his brother, who was on his feet with flames of his own dancing on the palms of his hands.

Viserys blinked twice and shook his head for good measure, and still, the scene did not change. His little brother was pushing back the dragon fire with white flames pouring out of his palms.

“The dragon fire… it’s changing.” Ser Reyne said in awe.

Viserys also started to see what Ser Reyne noticed. The flames surrounding Aegon were changing colour to white. The red and purple flames started to become white until both dragons stopped breathing flames altogether, as they, too, realised something phenomenal was happening before their eyes.

The white flames roared to life as they towered over the dragons in the blink of an eye. Viserys saw Sheepstealer let out a painful shriek as the white flames bit into the wild dragon's brown scales.

Perhaps it was the strangeness of the situation, the presence of the Cannibal and Aegon’s white flames. Whatever it was, Sheepstealer turned tail and flew away rather than remain inside the castle. But the Cannibal was not so easily pacified or chased away. The bane of dragons had fought for decades against its own kind and had made a habit of crushing dragon bones between its teeth. It was not ready to back down from a challenge so early.

Viserys watched with worry as the Cannibal breathed more and more flames against Aegon. The heat from the flames was such that he was forced to turn his eyes away. He felt a tremor pass through the ground, followed by a large thud. When the heat subsided, Viserys looked back and found his brother's white flames had dominated the field, and the Cannibal lay prone on the ground with smoke coming off its pitch-black scales.

On a closer look, he could see the black scales of the wild dragon were singed and pulsing with heat. The wings were the only part of the dragon that looked untouched. Viserys took tentative steps out of the safe confines of the castle despite the warnings from the men. He made his way to his younger brother, who looked out of his breath and sweating profusely.    

“Aegon.” he hesitantly called, but his brother remained unresponsive.

“My Prince, we should kill the dragon while we have the chance,” Ser Reyne said, drawing his sword and looking at the Cannibal warily.

“No! No one will be killing that dragon.” Aegon shouted, making everyone step back as they saw his fiery eyes were trained on them.

Viserys’ eyes widened when his brother suddenly collapsed on the floor.  

“Call for the maester.” he shouted immediately while cradling his brother’s head on his lap.

He could feel the heat rolling off his brother’s body, and for a moment, he wondered how his brother was even alive. How did his brother even make flames from his hands? Those were questions which bothered Viserys, but the answers were far out of his reach. The only person who could give him those answers was lying unconscious on his lap.

****

Jaehaerys felt like he should’ve seen this coming. The signs were right before his eyes. But as his dear wife accuses him these days, he was willfully blind to Gael’s interest in Aegon. His daughter had not only summarily rejected the betrothal he had painstakingly nurtured, but she had made her intentions to marry Aegon quite clear and loudly proclaimed to everyone in the Red Keep.

And now, his daughter wanted to leave King’s Landing to be with Aegon while he remained bedridden in Dragonstone.

“What do you mean I can’t go to Dragonstone?” Gael shouted at her father, her lilac eyes flaring in righteous anger.

“It means what it means.” Jaehaerys said firmly, glaring at her daughter, unwilling to back down in front of his rebellious daughter.

“I must go. Aegon needs me.” Gael stood her ground and glared right back at him, making Jaehaerys all the more angry.

“You’ll not be going anywhere without my say.” Jaehaerys thundered.

He swallowed heavily when tears rolled down the cheeks of his sole living daughter. She turned on the balls of her feet and ran from his solar, crying all the way. All that rage in him drained away upon seeing that, and his eyes fell on the two kingsguard knights in his solar.

“Ser Clement, look after my daughter. Make sure she doesn’t do anything untoward,” he ordered.

“Your grace.” the Crabbe knight bowed before speedily exiting his solar, chasing after his wayward daughter.

“What am I to do now, Ser Harrold? When I try to solve one problem, another takes root within the family.” Jaehaerys bemoaned, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

“Your grace, shall I offer you some water?” the Westerling knight asked.

“Yes.” Jaehaerys gasped as he felt himself sweat.

He greedily drank the water that Ser Harrold had provided. After that, he gave the chalice back to his trusted kingsguard knight as he rested in his seat. It took him some time to bring his racing heart under control, and slowly, his sweating ceased.

‘I’m not a youngster anymore. I might’ve been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms when I was ten and six. But now… the crown is far too heavy a burden for me to bear,’ Jaehaerys thought morosely.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts.

“The fault lies with me, I suppose. I should’ve seen this coming sooner. Gael was always interested in Aegon. Ever since she saw him in Alyssa’s hands, she had never left his side.” Jaehaerys muttered, his eyes glazed over as he focused on a distant memory. “They were playmates and friends before anything else. I didn't see their friendship growing into something more.”

“May I ask a question, your grace?” Ser Harrold asked as the silence that followed his admission dragged on for too long.

“Ask away, Ser.” Jaehaerys opened his eyes and watched the Westerling knight.

He rarely gave much leeway to his kingsguard knights, but he was in desperate need of good counsel. In the absence of his dearly departed friend Barth and his wife in open defiance, Jaehaerys felt he had very little choice in whom he confided. He’d have talked with his Hand, but Ser Ryam Redwyne was too close to the issue at hand. Baelon was also not an option, and that left him with the recent addition to the kingsguard. Ser Harrold Westerling had taken the place of Ser Roxton, who passed away in his sleep.

“Why may I ask your grace sought a betrothal for the princess with House Redwyne? Wouldn’t it have been better for Prince Aegon and Princess Gael to marry to keep the dragons within House Targaryen?” Ser Harrold asked with genuine curiosity.

This was why Jaeherys liked Ser Harrold. The man had a good head on his shoulder but was also not a self-serving knight who’d sing praises day and night.

“You’re right, Ser Harrold. I made a mistake. The enemy at the gates blinded me to what was happening right under my roof.” Jaehaerys admitted.

“Forgive me your grace. Are you perhaps talking of Lord Corlys?” Ser Harrold asked tentatively.

“Who else?” Jaehaerys muttered angrily. “That man has poisoned my queen against me. He has sunk his claws into my wife, and now he wants to claim Aegon to his side through Alysanne.”

Jaehaerys didn’t miss the way Ser Harrold’s face twitched at his words.

“You do not know Corlys Velaryon like I do, Ser. He is a snake that bites the hand that feeds it. My biggest mistake was giving the hand of Rhaenys to that ungrateful upstart.” Jaehaerys snarled, his lilac eyes blazed with fury.

“It is not enough for the Velaryons to claim a Targaryen bride and a dragon, but now he wants my throne. I don’t know why I trusted the man to be any different from his grandfather. They were Maegor’s supporters. Opportunistic turncloaks, the whole lot.” Jaehaerys spat derisively.

“May I speak freely, your grace?” Ser Harrold asked after Jaeherys fell silent after his rant.

Jaehaerys looked searchingly at the bald-headed knight before letting out the breath he was holding.

“Speak your mind, Ser.”

“I don’t think Prince Aegon necessarily supports Lord Corlys. Make no mistake; Prince Aegon is well-trained and smart for his age, but he is still a boy. I believe he likes Princess Rhaenys more than Prince Baelon for the same reasons he liked Princess Maegelle or Queen Alysanne. He sees his mother in them, and that is enough for Prince Aegon to stand with them.”

“She is only ten namesdays older than Aegon.” Jaehaerys said with disbelief.

“And yet, Princess Rhaenys has always treated him like her little brother or a son.” Ser Harrold pointed out, “She claimed the Red Queen, and you know how Prince Daemon took the news. But Aegon was never bothered to see his mother’s dragon bonding with Princess Rhaenys.”

‘Could it be that simple? Have I been blinded my fears over Corlys to see…’ Jaehaerys frowned thoughtfully and closed his eyes in shame as he came to a painful conclusion.

‘Yes… yes, I went too far and allowed my fears to guide my actions.’

Jaehaerys also remembered with a wince how happy he was to have pushed Aegon into a conflict with Corlys. That was the sole reason he manipulated Aegon into taking up responsibility for the development of Dragonstone. Otherwise, he’d have sent Baelon and Viserys in Aegon’s place as they were his chosen heirs. Not that he regretted sending Aegon to the island. From all the reports he received from the island, Aegon had worked splendidly so far.

Still, he realised that in his quest to ensure Baelon’s succession, he had started to behave like the enemies he so despised. It left a bad taste in his mouth to admit that he was callous enough to throw his family into danger, just like Daemon Velaryon did when Maegor usurped the Iron Throne.  

Most importantly, he didn’t want to make his daughter unhappy. She was the light in his darkest days, and he knew Aegon would protect her with his life. His grandson was loyal and honourable to a fault—a rare trait in the House of the Dragon.

What more could a father ask for from a prospective husband of his daughter?

‘I need to make things right with Aegon, Gael…’ Jaehaerys decided, ‘…and Alysanne.’

He had already sent the best maesters to Dragonstone when word reached him of what had happened to Aegon. The details of the incident were not clear, but Aegon had fallen ill after a confrontation with two wild dragons. Viserys mentioned that Aegon survived the ordeal using his power over fire. More details on the situation remained unclear, and perhaps it’d remain so for the time being. But whatever it was, he was confident Aegon would recover. The maester of Dragonstone had said as much using the raven.

“Ser Harrold.”

“Your grace?”

“Make preparations for my journey to the Arbour. I’ll need to speak face-to-face with Lord Redwyne to ensure there is no bad blood.”

“As you will, your grace.” Ser Harrold bowed before stepping out of his chambers.

Jaehaerys relaxed in his seat as some unseen weight on his shoulders disappeared. He watched the Westerling knight take his leave, and for a moment, he said silent thanks to his old friend and Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, Ser Gyles Morrigen.

Ser Harrold was Ser Gyles's squire, and it’d seem the Westerling knight had learned much from his old friend and sparring partner. The loss of Ser Gyles was another blow in his reign, but now he felt like the man was helping him from even beyond death.  

‘If only there were more men like Ser Gyles, this land would be heaven.’ Jaehaerys thought as he reminisced about his oldest supporters and dearly departed friends.

The preparations were speedily done, and he was out of the city within the day with a retinue of knights and lords accompanying him in his progress to Oldtown and from there to the Arbour. Jaehaerys stared out of the window of his wheelhouse and watched the lands passing by as the wheelhouse moved swiftly through the Roseroad. He had so wanted to take Vermithor and fly all the way to the Arbour, but he was not confident he’d make the journey with his body’s weaker constitution.

He shook his head and put all his worries to death. He needed to conquer his needless fears on this long journey so he could visit the Starry Sept along the way to Arbour. He was hardly a man of faith, but lately, he had been having trouble finding strength on his own. But at times like these, faith had the power to strengthen the mind, and that’s what he needed.

While he was away, he trusted his son to manage the affairs of the crown.

‘It’s time Baelon assumes some responsibility. If he’s to rule one day, he must learn what it means to be responsible for the Seven Kingdoms.’ Jaehaerys thought.

****

Baelon glared into his own hands as his mind churned out possible solutions to the quandary he was facing. His father had left the capital five days ago and since then he hadn’t had an iota of sleep.

“My Prince.”

Baelon wished he could snap at Grand Maester Allar for interrupting his thoughts, but the man was old—older than his father. It’d be disrespectful not to be mindful of such things when he was the crown prince and now the regent in his father’s name.

He was not supposed to sit in the small council chambers in his father’s seat and rule in his name. Ser Ryam Redwyne was his father’s Hand, and the man should’ve been making the day-to-day decisions regarding the running of the realm.

But King Jaehaerys had charged Baelon with the responsibility of leading the small council until his return.

Baelon felt the weight of the realm on his shoulders, and he blamed his son for this entire mess. He knew for certain that it was because of Aegon that his father was now travelling to the Arbour to apologise to Lord Redwyne. Rumours of the affair between Gael and Aegon were spreading through the realm like a forest fire. His father was now humiliated in the eyes of the court and the lords of the realm for announcing the betrothal.

However, a small part of Baelon also blamed his father for rushing headfirst into betrothing his little sister and youngest son with the Redwyne siblings. He had hoped to betroth Aegon with Laena Velaryon and bridge the gap in the family. For all his talk of keeping the family together, his father was determined to keep Lord Corlys and Rhaenys at arm’s length when there were many avenues to bind their families together.

Although his father feared the Velaryons, Baelon considered them family, and he felt guilty for stealing his niece’s birthright.

He shook his head as his mind once again went into places that were not supposed to.

“My prince?”

“What is it, Grand Maester?” Baelon asked in frustration.

“We await your decision about the brigands camping at the Oldtsones. They’ve been attacking the bridges across the Blue Fork. Merchants are being harassed at the Sevenstreams and Fairmarket.”

“Tell Lord Frey to deal with these miscreants.” Baelon said with a scowl.

“The Oldstones encompasses a sliver of land that maintains the border between the holdings of houses Mallister, Frey and Blackwood. If one lord is to send their men into Oldstones, the others will respond aggressively.”

“Are you telling me the Riverlords will fight amongst themselves instead of hunting for these brigands?” Baelon asked incredulously.

“Grudges are far aplenty than pebbles in the Riverlands, my prince.” Grand Maester Allar said patiently with a thin smile.

“The Riverlords are not known for their understanding nature, my prince. They’ve quarrelled amongst themselves for thousands of years.” Lord Beesbury said, looking at Baelon with a look of pity, “I’m afraid the crown will have to intervene in this matter.”

If anyone in the small council understood his predicament, it was Lord Lyman Beesbury. The man had only served in the small council as the Master of Coin for a year, so Baelon had a much better relationship with the young Master of Coin, who was comparable in age to his own.

“Fine. We’ll send ravens to lords Frey, Blackwood and Mallister. Inform them that the crown will send an assortment of knights under Ser Lorence Roxton.”

“But my prince. Ser Lorence is of the Kingsguard. He is needed here to guard the royal family.” Ser Ryam protested.

“Ser Lorence will represent the crown. I trust you and your sworn brothers are more than capable of defending my family without Ser Lorence for a few days.” said Baelon, eyeing the Lord Commander.

“Of course, your grace.” Ser Ryam reluctantly agreed.

“That’s settled then.” Baelon sighed. “Now, what’s next?”  

“The lords and knights of the Cracklaw Point are acting up again, my prince. Lord Celtigar urges the crown to punish them and brand them as traitors.” said Grand Maester Allar.

“Punish loyal men of Crackclaw?” Baelon snorted, staring at the Grand Maester in disbelief, “I’d sooner cut off my own hands than do anything of the sort. Tell Lord Celtigar to mind his own business.”

He knew Lord Bartimos Celtigar was Corlys’ man through and through. He wouldn’t trust a word from that man’s mouth.  

“Moving on then…”

Baelon, the Spring Prince, was bound to the small council chambers for another hour as he dealt with the affairs of the realm. By the time the meeting ended, he was just about ready to collapse into a bed and forget he was now responsible for keeping the Seven Kingdoms together.

He cursed the gods for taking Aemon’s life as he walked the corridors of the Red Keep with Ser Victor of the Kingsguard, shadowing his every step.

‘If only Ameon was alive…’ Baelon thought with grief, unable to shake the feeling of being a thief for serving as their father's heir.

Suddenly, he heard screams coming from the end of the corridor, making Baelon stop.

“My prince. Let me lead…” Ser Victor stood before him fast and true with his sword drawn, but only a hysterical maid came running from the end of the corridor.

The woman immediately came to a standstill upon seeing him and Ser Victor.

“Why were you screaming? What happened?” Baelon asked immediately, already feeling something had gone horribly wrong under his watch.

“Princess Gael is missing, my prince.”

“What!”

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

Flames were everywhere, in many colours and varying intensities. Men were screaming as the flames danced across their bodies. Nothing but carnage, death, and terror surrounded Aegon as he stood right in the middle of a battlefield. The sky was swirling with storm clouds, and cracks of lightning split the sky open. The ground beneath his feet rumbled as thunder roared from the heavens, showing their fury and unholy power.  

High above, the sky was a canvas for a battle of titans. Dragons, majestic and fearsome, clashed in a spectacle of power. Their claws and teeth tore through the air, their fiery breaths colliding in a clash of red and gold. The dragons' scales, once gleaming, now glowed with the heat of battle, their strength waning under the onslaught of fire.

The men around him were hacking each other to death in a frenzy, even as they were being cooked alive in their armour. Aegon looked far and wide on the battlefield; all he saw was fire and blood.

‘Fire and Blood. The words of Aegon the Conqueror.’ Harry thought.

House Targaryen followed Valyrian tradition until Aegon the First overnight changed thousands of years-old traditions. Like the rest of the Andals and the First Men, his house adopted a heraldry of its own, the three-headed dragon banner and ‘house words’. Aegon and his sisters even abandoned the gods of Valyria for the New Gods.

‘Why am I thinking any of this?’ Harry thought with a frown.

Suddenly, he was yanked out of the battlefield. Aegon blinked and found himself standing atop a large wall of ice overlooking a frozen wasteland.

“The Wall?” Aegon muttered, looking around in confusion, “Am I dreaming?”

His teeth started to chatter as cold seeped into his bones. The sky darkened, with dark clouds blotting out the sun. In the darkness, he saw several crystal-blue eyes staring at him. An inhuman shriek followed, making Aegon fall to his knees. His vision blurred for a moment, and when his eyes focused again, he was before an enormous sculpture of a gold-plated dragon with a throne beneath it. He rubbed the smooth white marble beneath his fingers in awe.

“What is all this?” he whispered confusedly.

His words echoed in the large but vacant hall. Aegon flinched when he heard the stones grinding against each other. He could only gape as he saw the gold-plated dragon move its head and open its jaws. The eyes of the dragon glowed an eerie glow, and he saw a large hill surrounded by a lush forest. He saw thirteen stone pillars reaching into the sky at the top of the hill, covered in vines and hidden in the fog.

“Go to the hill. Find the pillars and build my seat of power. The sacred flame will guide your path.”

Aegon’s eyes widened as he heard the dragon whisper in his mind.

“What the…?”

The world around him spun, pulling him into unending darkness. When the light finally shined on him, he could hear faint noises. Aegon blinked awake as if he was in a bad dream. The first thing he saw was bright silver hair and the smell of rose petals.

“Gael.” Aegon moaned.

“Aegon!”

He heard the faint, excitable yell as someone hugged him. He breathed in the rosy scent and smiled. A pair of warm lips pressed against his own, and he knew he was no longer dreaming.

The most beautiful amethyst eyes greeted him when he opened his eyes. But they were also wet with tears, which made him sad. Gael was one of the few people in the world who deserved happiness. She was among the few dear to his heart.

“I do not like to see you cry.” Aegon whispered hoarsely with a dry throat.

“Oh, Aegon.” Gael hugged him again, crying and laughing.

“Gael, please release your hold on Aegon. Let maester Gerardys take care of him.” Viserys said, gently pulling Gael away from Aegon’s bed.

“My prince.” maester Gerardys placed the back of his hand against Aegon’s forehead.

Aegon watched the maester’s eyebrows climb in surprise.

“It seems the fever has left the prince. He is no longer burning up.” the maester muttered.

For the next few minutes, he was closely prodded and given a lot of fluids to drink. When the maester finally left his bedside, Gael returned to his side with a bowl of soup in her hand.

“We’ll talk, Aegon. I have so many questions about what happened and what you did…” said Viserys, a myriad of emotions shining in his eyes. “But for now, take some rest.”

Aegon watched his elder brother leave before he turned his eyes on Gael.  

“When did you come here?” he asked tentatively.

“Yesterday. When I heard that you had fallen ill after two wild dragons breathed fire on you, I thought the worst.” Gael whispered, offering him a spoonful of soup, which Aegon accepted.

“I was fine.”

“You were burning with fever and unresponsive when I arrived. I thought you were burnt horribly, but the gods protected you from dragon fire.” Gael said, rubbing a stray tear from the corner of his eyes and offering him another spoonful of soup.

“I was fortunate.” Aegon admitted as he, too, had thought he’d be a pile of ash when he distracted the wild dragons to facilitate Viserys’ escape.

“The people of Dragonstone are calling you the White Flame – a dragon in man’s skin.”

Aegon couldn’t help but chuckle at the silly name. He had noticed the penchant of smallfolk to assign silly names to everything around them. Then again, he suspected it was some court bard or fool who coined the name. They tend to make their living by singing praises to lords and knights and gaining the patronage of Westerosi nobility. He tried to remember the names of court jesters or bards in Dragonstone, but those names escaped him for the moment.

He expelled a few of them after learning they were working as spies for Lord Corlys. He had such men shipped off to the Wall while some of the serious offenders were publicly hanged. It was one of those instances where he understood why his grandfather was so paranoid about Lord Corlys and the rise of House Velaryon.

Aegon dutifully finished the soup Gael fed him and made himself comfortable in the bed.

“I’m surprised you were allowed to travel alone without any chaperones.” Aegon said after a while.

The troubled look that took over Gael’s face instantly alerted him.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked curiously.

“I didn’t come to Dragonstone with his grace’s permission.” Gael admitted, averting her eyes while her cheeks became red.

“You…” Aegon gaped at her, “You ran away from the Red Keep on your own?”

“Mother knows.” Gael defended herself hastily, “Father forbade me from visiting you. I…”

Aegon stared incomprehensibly at the hesitation on Gael’s face.

“Gael. What did you do? Why would his grace deny you to visit Dragonstone?” he asked with some trepidation.

“I was worried when I heard of what happened. I…” Gael looked away guiltily from his eyes, “I may have acted rashly and publicly proclaimed our affair before the court.”

Aegon felt a shiver pass through his spine at Gael’s admission.  

“You did what!” he thundered, “We agreed we’ll approach his grace together and ask for his blessings behind a closed door.”

“You were not there. Father proclaimed I was betrothed to some Redwyne knight, and then word came of what happened in Dragonstone. I just…” Gael’s voice broke as she rubbed her eyes, “…I acted without due diligence.”

“I begged my father to let me visit you, but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted to force me into that betrothal, and he wanted me far away from you!” Gael’s shoulders shook as she sobbed, “I couldn’t… I wouldn’t… I had no choice but to escape from the Red Keep.”

Aegon was deeply touched by Gael’s concern. But it was not the smart thing to do.

“Why? Why go to such lengths and openly defy his grace?” Aegon asked softly, “He will be humiliated before the court and the lords of the realm. We could’ve talked to him in the privacy of his solar and slowly changed his mind with grandmother’s support.”

“Because I love you, and I’ll not accept anyone else. No one else will decide who I can love.” Gael said firmly.

Aegon fell silent as his mind worked to think things through before rushing to any hasty action. Gael had pissed off the king of the seven kingdoms and probably his father as well. Both of them were powerful men in their own right. He was nowhere near capable of playing against such men when his influence was derived from their names. The only thing he could claim as his own power was his magic.

Sadly, his magic was not enough to curtail the powers that be in King's Landing to turn the other cheek.

At the same time, he was also aware that his family and his king could not be allowed to look the fool before the realm.

'I'll have to sort out this mess without blemishing the honour of my house and my king.' Aegon thought grimly.

With that decision made, he pushed himself out of the bed despite Gael's objections. He had no time to waste lying in bed while the capital was in chaos. He needed to have a word with the maester and Viserys to discuss his options to avert a major scandal or even retaliation from his grandfather. He remembered the fates of Princess Visera and Saera. He didn’t want that to happen to Gael, nor was he interested in getting exiled for embarrassing the royal family.

*****

Aegon listened to the lull of the sea as the waves made land on Dragonstone. Usually, the sound of the sea calmed his nerves, but today, their effect was nonexistent. He only felt far worse after his talk with Viserys.

“You worry for nothing, brother. Our father is in charge of the Red Keep. He’ll keep those waging tongues under control until our grandsire returns from his progress.” Viserys tried to assuage his fears.

“It’s precisely why I should be worried.” he muttered, staring into the distance from the window of his brother’s solar.

“Aegon. You don’t understand our father as well as…”

“I understand enough brother. I’m not a silly child any longer.” Aegon curtly said, not allowing Viserys to make excuses for their father.

Honestly, he didn’t even blame Prince Baelon at all. He felt responsible for his mother's death, and he had always lived with the guilt of that fact. It was most likely possible that his unique situation might’ve affected his mother's health. He had long ago reconciled with the fact that he was cursed never to enjoy a close bond with his parents.

But he was fortunate to have been born into a loving family that gave him all the love and affection he needed. Queen Alysanne and Septa Maegelle had given him a lifetime of love and care, and he’d be eternally in their debt. Even his grandfather, for all his convoluted schemes and politics, had always treated him with respect and, dare he say it, with pride.

So, Aegon felt like he owed his loyalty to those who had given him a family to belong.

At the same time, he was taught from an early age who he was.

‘I’m a Targaryen – a dragon! A dragon bows to no sheep.’ Aegon thought with steely eyes.

So long as he breathed, he’d not see his king’s head bowed before a lesser lord for his sake.

‘Princess Saera and Visera had disgraced the house and my grandfather. I’ll not let Gael do the same for my sake.’ he thought firmly.

His eyes fell on the pitch-black dragon staring at him from the castle's archery field. The Cannibal had chosen to make its nest on the archery range after he had fallen ill. The curious thing was that the dragon had become docile and remained on the archery field to this day without harming anyone. The Cannibal—known for its appetite for flesh and bones of its own kind—feasted on sheep, oxen, and pigs during its time in the castle.  

“Are you sure Cannibal bonded with me?” Aegon asked, looking at his older brother, who was far more knowledgeable on dragonlore and the secrets of Valyria.

“I am.” Viserys said confidently, “But the only way to know for sure is to claim it.”

Aegon stared at the beast on the ground. The Cannibal was no normal dragon. He supposed the dragon was a perfect fit for him. After all, he was no normal Targaryen either.

“I don’t know how…” Aegon trailed off embarrassedly.

Viserys laughed as he threw his arm around Aegon’s shoulder.

“Do you think the first dragon riders of Valyria knew anything when they tamed their dragons? Do you think Aegon the Conqueror knew anything when he claimed the Black Dread?”

Viserys’ eyes danced with mirth.

“No, brother. We know almost nothing about dragons, and unlike what the books and maesters say, it’s not we who choose the dragon. It’s they who decide to offer the bond—a bond that breaks only on death. So go now and claim what is yours by Fire and Blood.”

Aegon smiled at the words of encouragement from his brother. If there was one thing he liked the most in his elder brother, it was his unabated optimism.

Heeding his brother's words, Aegon stepped into the castle grounds and approached the colossal beast known as the Cannibal.

The Cannibal was the oldest of all wild dragons in Dragonstone. Therefore, he was not surprised to see that it was larger than Sheepstealer. The Cannibal’s bright green eyes followed his every move as he slowly approached the dragon. But the coal-black-scaled dragon continued to eye him without making any aggressive move save for its flickering eyelids.

The dragon keepers stood ready around the Cannibal to intervene should it turn aggressive. But the dragon only lazily blinked when Aegon touched its snout. Seeing that the Cannibal remained calm, Aegon became bolder and started to trace the fine black scales of the wild dragon from its snout to the base of its neck. The dragon’s green eyes followed his movements, but the dragon remained calm.

Aegon stared into the green eyes of the dragon as it turned its massive head to stare at him. He could feel the bond now at the back of his mind. At first, it felt like his heart was thumping loudly in his chest. An unnatural warmth passed through his entire body, and then he knew…

‘I’m a dragonrider.’ Aegon crowed with delight in the confines of his mind.  

His greatest fear was becoming like Vaegon the dragonless, a fear instilled in him by Daemon from early childhood. While he had always shrugged off Daemon's attempts to bully him outwardly, he feared his worst fears would come true.

But now everything changed. He also realised he was no longer an easily dispensable pawn on the board.

‘At least, I hope so.’ Aegon thought with a scowl, knowing anything was now possible with his father in control of the capital.

“Don’t even think about flying without a harness to keep you safe.” Viserys said, breaking Aegon out of his musings.

“You’re right. I’ll need a saddle.” Aegon nodded at his brother, who had followed him into the archery range to watch.

“It’s a good thing I commissioned one for this occasion.” Viserys grinned at Aegon’s surprised look.

Aegon was surprised to see that Viserys was not pulling his leg. The Dragonkeepers brought forth a saddle made of boiled leather and steel chain bindings.

“The first flight is important to seal the bond between a rider and a dragon.” Viserys advised as the Aegon stood near the dragon while the Dragonkeepers worked to fasten the saddle on his dragon, “So, be mindful of your surroundings and thoughts. Dragons have a keen sense of awareness, especially one as wild as…,”

Aegon looked at them in askance as his elder brother trailed off with a thoughtful frown.

“You must name the dragon.” Aemma said amusedly as she arrived at Viserys’ side, hand in hand with Gael.

“Will you accept a name, great dragon?” Aegon whispered in High Valyrian against the coal-black scales of the former wild dragon.

The Cannibal lazily blinked at him with its large green eyes and nudged his side with its snout. Chuckling at his mount's lacklustre attitude, he set his eyes on Gael.

“You suggest a name, Gael.” said Aegon.

Gael was initially surprised by the offer, and a huge smile spread on her face as Aegon offered his hand and helped her come close to pet his dragon.

“How about Maegorion?” Gael suggested with a vindictive look.

“Are you trying to get me exiled, Gael?” Aegon asked incredulously.

If there was anyone his grandfather hated the most, it was Maegor and anyone who even appeared to like Maegor. Naming his newly bonded dragon after the man who usurped the Iron Throne from its rightful rulers would be enough to get him kicked out of Westeros for good.

“Well… it’s not such a bad idea. We could travel the world atop your dragon, and no one could stop us.” Gael said dreamily, making Aegon roll his eyes.

“I’ll find a good name by myself.” he said, patting the scales of the Cannibal, “But first, let’s fly.”

*****

Baelon was pissed. He was beyond pissed at his son, the Kingsguard, the guards in the Red Keep, the City Watch, the maids, the bards, the smallfolk of the Flea Bottom and finally, his mother. Everyone was out to make his life difficult, and all of them were complicit or criminally negligent in undermining him.

Under his watch, he had misplaced a princess, his little sister!

Even before he started interrogating the maids and guards in the Red Keep, he knew Gael had help from the inside. But he didn’t expect the stab of betrayal from this person.

Baelon slammed the doors open and walked into his mother’s room.

“Why?” Baelon asked with barely restrained anger as he glared at his mother.

“I don’t have the power to read your mind, boy,” Alyssane snapped, barely looking up from the book in her hand.

Baelon only felt his ire rise at his mother’s rebellious attitude.

“I’ve spoken to the servants. They say you ordered them to help smuggle Gael aboard a ship to Dragonstone.”

“So what?”

Baelon glared at his mother, who continued to ignore him by making a show of reading her book.

“Do you not understand what you’ve done? You’ve helped Gael and Aegon bring insult to the family. You’ve defied the king…”

“And the king has defied me… his queen!” Alysanne snapped, making Baelon step back, seeing the fire in his mother’s eyes.

“But…”

“Gael is my daughter, and as I said before, I won’t allow her to be bartered off in your father’s schemes.”

Baelon took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I can understand that, mother. But why would you help her travel to Dragonstone? The realm will now question her virtue.”

“Then the solution is simple: Have Gael marry Aegon, and that’ll be the end of it.” Alysanne said.

“Just like you had plans for Gael, I had plans for Aegon, and it didn’t involve him marrying my sister.” Baelon hissed.

“Really?” Alysanne asked sceptically, “You’ve never cared for the boy for all these years. So, forgive me when I say it’s hard to believe you have suddenly taken an interest in Aegon’s life.”

Baelon flinched at the veiled accusation. But he let the accusation slide off.

“I wanted to betroth Aegon to Laena Velaryon. I had hoped to make amends with the Velaryons through their union.” he said through gritted teeth.

“If you want to make amends, return what you’ve stolen from Aemon’s daughter.” Alysanne glared at him, making Baelon flinch again.

Baelon gritted his teeth at his stubborn mother and walked out of her chambers with a scowl.

Why didn’t she understand it was her husband’s choice to name him heir? He had never asked for the position. He’d have even opposed his father’s decision if it wasn’t for the naked ambitions and greed in Corlys Velaryon. The man had been making alliances and fanciful promises to the great houses of the realm as if he were king once Aemon passed away. The pyre that burned Aemon’s body had barely cooled off before Lord Corlys started his campaign to ascertain his dominance.

Such blatant disrespect to his brother and House Targaryen by their vassal had caused his father to act. Corlys’ actions caused the king to strip the heirship from Rhaenys. If Lord Velaryon had to blame someone for his wife’s predicament, it was himself.

He had hoped that his youngest son's marriage to Laena Velaryon would restore amicable relations between House Velaryon and Targaryen. When he met with them recently, he suggested as much to Lord Corlys and Rhaenys.

But all those plans were now in shambles because his father and headstrong son made the situation far worse. He could’ve talked his father out of the betrothal of his son with the Redwyne girl. He had even seen marginal progress as his father hadn’t announced Aegon’s betrothal to the court. But all his attempts were now in vain as Gael’s elopement had caused irreparable insult to two great houses of the realm.

To make matters worse, his son had the audacity to concoct a lie about his health to shift blame.

Baelon wouldn’t let that stand. He was appalled that Viserys also stood in support of Aegon’s ridiculous schemes. His sons needed to be punished, and he’d punish them in person.

To that effect, he charged Ser Redwyne to rule in his stead as he prepared to mount Vhagar and fly to Dragonstone.

‘I’ll bring Gael back to the Red Keep and punish my sons for their involvement in this madness,’ Baelon thought, watching the Dragonkeepers diligently place the saddle around Vhagar.

Vhagar was not happy with waking from her slumber. But his presence quenched any sense of discomfort from the mighty dragon whose flames forged the Seven Kingdoms. Then, something changed all of a sudden. He noticed the change when Vhagar suddenly became aggressive and pinned its golden irises into the sky. The Draagonkeepers were scared away from his dragon as she let out a threatening growl from her throat.

“Peace, Vhagar.” Baelon sang in his ancestors' tongue, rubbing the mighty dragon's dark green scales.

Her aggression momentarily ceased, but Vhagar remained alert and looked to the sky as if there was some great foe that she needed to face.

“My Prince, look!” a startled Dragonkeeper pointed at the sky.

Baelon followed the man’s fingers and found a faint outline of a dragon.

“Could it be Rhaaenys or Daemon?” Baelon muttered, staring at the dragon in the distance.

But as the dragon approached, he noticed it had black scales and was massive compared to Caraxes or Meleys. Great gales of wind blew away dust and sand as the dragon flew past, forcing Baelon to shield his eyes.

He opened his eyes and stared at the rider, who was circling above Baelon. It was none other than his son, and the blasted boy had claimed the cannibalistic dragon! He now understood why Vhagar was unhappy and looked ready to battle the wild dragon.

A premonition suddenly hit Baelon as he stared at his youngest son and the wild dragon.

‘The Cannibal devours its brethren just like my son who came to this world by killing his mother.’ Baelon thought.

The mismatched eyes of his deceased wife came to his mind, the same eyes Aegon possessed. Gritting his teeth, Baelon glared at his son and the wild dragon as he made a decision.

“Remove the saddle and escort Vhagar back into her lair.” he ordered the Dragonkeepers.

‘If my mother thought she could do whatever she wanted with Gael, then I could do the same with my son.’ he thought, pursing his lips as he watched his son circle the Red Keep.

Baelon marched back to the Red Keep, his mind set on what should be done with his wayward son.  

Chapter Text

“You can't mean to do this, my prince.” Ser Ryam Redwyne said with wide eyes upon hearing the order issued by the crown prince.

“I can and I will. Make arrangements for my son’s exile to Essos Ser. That’s an order.” Baelon thundered.

“But… but… this is going too far, my prince. We should wait until his grace returns.” Ser Ryam protested.

“No! My decision is final. Make the arrangements for my son’s exile to Essos and have the Dragonkeepers ready to chain that fiendish creature. I’ll have Vhagar destroy it for good.” Baelon ordered coldly.

“But my prince…” Ser Ryam protested.

“Obey my orders, Ser.” Baelon growled.

At that, Ser Ryam bowed his head as he was reminded of his oaths. Ultimately, he was a knight of the kingsguard sworn to obey, not question. In the absence of his king, he had to follow the orders of the crown prince no matter how much he loathed the order. Prince Aegon was just a boy of five and ten, a boy he had watched grow up from a little babe to a splendid knight before his eyes. It broke his heart to do what he was ordered to do. It stung deep, especially when he knew in his heart that Prince Aegon was blameless for Princess Gael’s elopement.

Once more, he cursed himself for readily agreeing to that betrothal. He should’ve been patient instead of jumping headfirst into the betrothal when his grace offered.

“As you will, my prince.” Ser Ryam bowed and swiftly exited the crown prince’s solar with a heavy heart.

But he was not without a heart. He immediately summoned a servant and sent a message to the queen. It'd be the queen if anyone had enough authority to stop the coming strife within the royal family.  

****

“Why did you help Gael sail to Dragonstone?” Aegon asked his grandmother, who was doing a poor job showing her disinterest in the conversation by pretending to concentrate on the needlework.

“Are you intentionally trying to get her punished? Her reputation is in tatters because of you.”

But Aegon’s words did not affect his grandmother, who continued to ignore him. Letting out a huff, he began pacing back and forth inside his grandmother’s room, his frustration mounting with each step. 

“You worry too much, Aegon. This’ll be over soon before you know it. I know my husband better than most.”

“But still to go against the king's word and defy him so openly…” Aegon muttered with a troubled look.

“My dear husband has become a stubborn man. He is no longer capable of thinking like a husband and father anymore. It’s all about the realm and what the lords think that takes up his twisted mind,” Alysanne spat with a scowl, her disdain for her husband's actions palpable. “He needs to learn that there is more to life than the Iron Throne and the court.”

“You‘ll get me exiled with this feud of yours.” Aegon complained.

“Good. Take Gael with you and never return to this cold, heartless place.”

Aegon could only gape at his grandmother.

“You must be joking. Where would we even go?“ he asked incredulously.

“To Essos.” Alysanne shrugged.

Aegon just stared at his grandmother with his mouth agape.

“You’re mad.” Aegon said in frustration at being treated ill by his grandmother.

“Why? You don’t like the Free Cities?” Alysanne asked with a raised brow.

Aegon glared at his grandmother, who acted like she didn’t know what happened to all those dragon riders who thought the same and continued living in those cities after Doom befell Valyria. They found their throats slit in the night and their dragons slain come morning. House Targaryen had survived so far because they were in the relatively safe place of Westeros.

“Are you trying to get me killed? They’ll kill me the first chance they get.”

“Maegor stayed in Pentos in exile, and no one killed him.” Alysanne pointed out.

“I’m not Maegor.” Aegon deadpanned.

“No, you’re not. But if you stay too long, you’ll become one, or my husband and your father will force you to become like that man.” said Alysanne with a certainty that made Aegon queasy.

‘Now, ain’t that the truth.’ Aegon mused.

“You’re aware why your grandfather was so eager to give you control of Dragonstone, aren’t you? Or were you under the impression that there were no other able administrators?”

Aegon remained silent, but he knew the answer. It was not lost on him why King Jaehaerys goaded him into taking up the administrative duties of Dragonstone. If anyone should been sent, it was Prince Baelon, but his father remained in King’s Landing. Aegon and Viserys were sent to Dragonstone despite having no experience in running a household.

“Your grandfather wanted you to come into conflict with Lord Corlys. He hoped to drive a wedge between you two, and in time, he thought it’d reflect on Rhaenys as well.” said Alysanne.

His grandmother set aside the needle and the scarf in her hand, giving him all her attention.

“He is afraid Rhaenys will cause a civil war and plunge the realm into bloodshed.” Aegon said lamely.

The moment those words came out of his mouth, he knew how hollow they were. He eyed his grandmother’s face, searching for any traces of anger, but he only saw amusement.

“Do you truly believe that?” Alysanne asked with a chuckle.

“No.” Aegon rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable.

“If there is anyone that causes war for succession, it’s your grandfather and father. Their stubbornness will see bloodshed and strife within this family.” Alysanne said confidently, making the inside of his palms sweat a little.  

The sad fact was that Aegon believed her to some extent. His grandfather's paranoia about Lord Corlys subverting the Iron Throne was frankly astounding. If his grandfather had spent even a few minutes in a proper conversation with Rhaenys, he could’ve known she was not so easily beguiled or controlled by anyone.

But it was not as if he could say these things straight to his grandfather's face. He doubted he would change anything if his grandmother couldn’t make the king see sense. His grandfather had developed an almost unnatural fear of Lord Corlys. After spending a few months in Dragonstone and managing its finances, he knew how difficult it was to manage the island’s revenue. It was in that place Lord Corlys had built a vast trade empire in the Narrow Sea.

Aegon had taken advantage of Driftmark’s proximity to Dragonstone and made many contacts among the Essosi traders. Even if most of those traders weren’t interested in immediately switching their business from Driftmark, their ships using Dragonstone’s harbour were more than enough to generate a steady stream of revenue. If his grandfather felt Lord Corlys was overreaching and becoming too strong, the only one to blame was Prince Baelon, the Prince of Dragonstone.

His father had abandoned their ancestral island, leaving its upkeep in the hands of lesser men who took advantage of Prince Baelon’s disinterest. House Velaryon's rise was because of Lord Corlys's skill and the fall of Dragonstone into disrepair. After all, Dragonstone was a fertile land, and his family had better relationships with the Free Cities than the Sea Snake.

“I prefer not to be exiled to Essos, grandmother.” Aegon added, “Also, I prefer not to be part of your plans to turn me into a messenger to reach Aunt Saera.”

If his grandmother was bothered by his comment, she expertly hid it away under a calm façade.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take my leave and settle some matters.” Aegon bowed before turning to leave his grandmother’s chambers.

“Before you go, a word of advice, grandson. I’ll not give away my daughter’s hand in marriage to a puppet of my husband, even if it is you. Before I pass away from this world, I’d like to see her with a man who can stand in his own right. So, gather strength and wealth to your side however you can. You’ll need it if you want my Gael in your arms.”

Aegon stared at his grandmother for a long moment before he swiftly exited her chambers.

He was aware of her interest in sending him off to Essos. After all, his grandmother had been trying all the tricks in her arsenal to make contact with Princess Saera. It was mostly a wasted effort as the woman had refused to write back to the innumerable letters his grandmother sent as far as he knew. He wouldn’t be surprised if his grandfather interfered each time in some way to intercept those letters from his grandmother.

Everyone in the Red Keep knew his grandfather's burning hatred for Princess Saera.

Aegon had seen how far his grandfather could ruin someone if he so wished. He had no intention of becoming another victim of the great quarrel between the riders of Vermithor and Silverwing. Only Aunt Maegelle could traverse a fine line between the two without taking any personal damage, and he was keenly aware that he was nowhere near diplomatic enough.

With this in mind, he knew trying to placate the fragile egos of his family was most likely to be a wasted effort. His best bet to come off unscathed lay with House Redwyne. Treating with House Redwyne and clearing the air was the best path that lay ahead in his view.

“The princeling doesn’t know he’s walking into a trap. The two-legs are going to send him away across the sea.”

Aeon paused upon hearing a whispering voice close to a wall as he walked down a hallway.

“Really, Athos?” a female voice joined with an excitable tilt. “Oh, I can’t wait to see all the drama. My cousin saw the black beast of the princeling. She says it’s a colossal beast with a taste for its own kind. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to see the black dragon fight the old queen’s mount.”

Aegon’s eyes widened further as he heard the whispered conversation.

“Don’t be idiotic, Martha. If those dragons fight, we’ll burn along with the two-legs.”

“Come out, now! I know you’re behind this wall, Athos and Martha. Come out now, or I’ll hunt you down and show you the sharpness of my sword.” Aegon shouted, his hand on the pommel of his sword.

But despite his threat, he could not hear any movements inside the wall. He had hoped to hear some sound from the other side of the wall and track down the people inside the secret chamber. But not a single sound came. However, Aegon jumped back in fright when two rattlesnakes slithered out of a small hole between the stones that made up the wall.

“Look, Athos. The Princeling can speak to us!”  

“Don’t be daft. How can a two-leg speak our tongue?”

“Maybe this one is not as ignorant as the other two-legs.”

Aegon could only stare in utter befuddlement at the turn of events. He knew he should’ve run away from the quarrelling serpents, but he was overcome by several visions of a boy speaking to a snake on a raised podium. Once that vision flashed by his mind’s eye, a rush of memories slammed into his mind, making his head throb.

“Parseltongue.” Aegon muttered with a frown.

He came to the startling realisation that he could converse with snakes. It was a gift he had seen in his visions, and like the magic he saw, it became a reality for Aegon. Once more, he was confronted with more reasons to believe that he was not seeing visions but memories of a past life.

Even as such a profound realisation was being confronted, Aegon had no choice but to keep it aside for now. He had more serious matters to deal with, and this was the least perfect place to be saddled with an existential crisis.

“Tell me everything, you two.” he commanded.

The two snakes talked and talked, spilling the secrets they gleaned from between the walls of the Red Keep. Once their tale was finished, Aegon seriously considered ordering the snakes to kill his father. He came close to giving that order and becoming a kinslayer. The anger and hate that he felt at that moment surprised him. He felt raw strength in his fists as his nails dug deep into his palms. He could feel the roar of flames in his blood, whispering seductively in his ears to burn it all down at the injustice of it all.

The fact of the matter was, he’d have been prepared to give his life instead to the Stranger if his brothers could’ve retained their mother. He had seen in Harry Potter’s life how pathetic the life of an orphan was.

But were his brothers really orphans? What do they know of the cold floor, the loneliness that devours all in its dark grip? What do they know about the feeling of not knowing even the names of those who gave you life? What do they know about starvation and the absence of self-worth?

Angry tears rolled down Aegon’s cheeks, and they steamed as his warm-hot skin burned them away before they could fall to the ground.

“What does Baelon Targaryen know of loss?” Aegon’s eyes blazed in fury as he stood at his full height and asserted his control over his wild emotions.

“He thinks he’s a dragon? I’ll show that pathetic wastrel what a true dragon is capable of.” Aegon muttered angrily, turning on his feet and marched in the opposite direction of his destination.

He had always lived and breathed each moment so far with his family in mind. Not once had his thoughts strayed from the well-being of his family and its reputation. It was to safeguard that reputation that he came rushing back to the capital and make amends. But he had no reason to hold back if his father was interested in strife.

When Aegon arrived at where he left the Cannibal, he saw Dragonkeepers trying their best to chain his dragon. He saw knights and other soldiers with swords and spears surrounding his mount.

Aegon strode towards them purposefully with his hand on the pommel of his sword. Some no-name knight noticed his arrival and turned to address him,

“My prince. You…”

Aegon didn’t let the man finish the sentence as he drew his sword smoothly from its sheath and cut a long line on the knight’s neck. The man fell on his knees, holding his neck, trying in vain to stem the bleeding. He cut the knee out of another knight with a single swing and drove his sword through the knight’s throat when he fell.

“My prince?”

Aegon paid no heed to the cries of men and drove his sword through everything above the next knight’s eyebrows. The sharp edge of his sword met no resistance as he cut open the knight’s head. Blood and gore spilt into the ground, but he paid it no heed. He ducked a jab from a spear and cut the legs out of a soldier who dared to attack him. He plucked the spear out of the screaming soldier’s hand and slammed the butt of the spear against the stomach of another soldier. The soldier let out a grunt and fell on his back. He absently swung his sword, decapitating the soldier.

Aegon broke into a sprint and threw the spear high in the air. The spear punched through the heart of a Dragonkeeper trying to chain the Cannibal down. His sword arms shook as he defended a strike from another knight. Aegon backpedalled as the knight expertly wielded his sword. He met the knight strike for a strike even as he moved backwards until suddenly, he got under his opponent's guard and slammed a dagger between the ribs.

Aegon could see the wide brown eyes of his opponent. He twisted the dagger and pushed away the knight before slashing his throat with his sword.

More guards rushed in, attracted by the commotion. But they didn’t get the chance to face Aegon as the Cannibal roasted them alive in his purple flames. Aegon frowned as he watched the men burn in dragonfire. Their screams invaded his ears while the smell of the burning flesh made his nose twitch. The Cannibal smashed away the last vestiges of bondage and became free on his own. The scattered few Dragonkeepers tried to flee for their lives, but the Cannibal snatched them up with his massive black teeth and made a quick lunch of them. Some were crushed instantly by the black dragon’s massive spiked tail.

Aegon sheathed his sword and dagger as he neared his dragon and started climbing onto the riding harness nestling at the base of the Cannibal’s neck. He cracked the whip to gain his dragon’s attention once he had secured himself on the saddle.

“Soves.”

The Cannibal let out a low growl and spread its massive wings. With two mighty flaps of the wings and a mighty jump using his hind legs, the Cannibal was in the air.

Aegon held on to the saddle as the Cannibal climbed into the sky. But he was not satisfied with running away without confronting the man who hated him the most in the city. He cracked the whip to the right and whispered orders in High Valyrian to the Cannibal. The black dragon let out a roar as it veered left and circled the giant towers of the Red Keep.

Like Vermithor and Silverwing, Vhagar also disliked being chained inside the Dragonpit. Therefore, all three dragons had caves built for them on Aegon’s Hill near the Red Keep. Vermithor and Silverwing had their caves built outside the western walls of the Red Keep, but Vhagar was kept on the east overlooking Blackwater Bay. The rage in him slightly settled as the cool air of the Blackwater Rush hit him on his face. He held his body flat against the scales of the Cannibal as he watched the brilliantly lit sky. The rush of freedom he felt as everything below became so distant was therapeutic but short because the Cannibal was fast in banking around the Red Keep.

They immediately set upon the liar of Vhagar. From the Cannibal’s back, he could see several men below near the cave of the oldest and largest of the Targaryen dragons. Cracking the whip in the general direction of the cave, Aegon shouted commands in High Valyrian to direct the Cannibal into a dive. There were indications that Valyrian dragons were gifted with the ability to discern sound and learn the intent from the sound. Whether the dragons only understood High Valyrian was something to be discussed among scholars. But Valyrians of old used whips to direct the dragons once they were airborne simply because the spoken word of men was hard to reach the ears of the dragons with their long necks.  

Whatever the case, the Cannibal showed no difficulty understanding Aegon’s will. The colossal black dragon flapped his wings and arrested his moment as it slammed into the ground upon its hind legs. A storm of dust kicked up upon the Cannibal’s swift landing, and Aegon took a moment to gather his wits before climbing down from the saddle.

“Aegon!” Baelon shouted as he marched towards him with a cold look in his eyes.

“Prince Baelon.” Aegon moved towards the man, who happened to be his father, with his left hand on the pommel of his sword.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“What? You don’t think I’ll meekly obey your order and exile myself to Essos while you kill my dragon.” Aegon asked with gritted teeth.

“You have brought shame and…”

Aegon didn’t let the man finish that sentence as he drove his knee straight into Baelon’s balls with full force. He watched with a swage grin as Baelon let out a howl in pain and collapsed on the ground with a tooth flying off his mouth.

“Dracarys.” Aegon ordered, staring at the soldiers trying to surround them.

The Cannibal let out a challenging roar and breathed dark purple flames that set the entire area ablaze. The soldiers and Dragonkeepers standing too close were instantly vapourised by the Cannibal's hot flames.

“You… you’re a fiend just like that dragon of yours. You devour all that is good in this family.” Baelon gasped from the floor.

Strangely, Aegon was hardly affected by the cursing and cussing by his father. He felt strangely detached and maybe a touch liberated as he shrugged away the insult.

“You wanted me exiled, didn’t you? You needn’t bother with such a difficult task, Prince Baelon. I’ll exile myself from this pathetic family. So, here is my vow…” Aegon took a deep breath as he kicked and pressed his boot against his father’s chest. “I’ll not set foot on Westeros so long as you breathe. But if anyone comes after me in Essos, I’ll have their heads put on spikes no matter who they are.”

“Enjoy your precious time with your model family.” Aegon spat on the man’s face and smashed his fist hard against Prince Baelon’s cheek, which knocked the Spring Prince out cold.

Aegon turned his back on his unconscious father and approached the Cannibal. The massive black dragon lowered its head, and Aegon pressed himself against its smooth black scales.

“They call us fiends – demonic for something we both have no control over. My birth caused my mother to weaken and die, and you became wild without a rider developing a taste for the flesh and bones of your own kind. We’re one of a kind, aren’t we?” Aegon whispered against the scales of his dragon, earning a snort of smoke from the Cannibal’s nose.

Aegon glared at his downed father and the rest of the surroundings. At that moment, he felt a deep sense of detachment and loneliness.

“If they want to see us as fiends, we’ll show them that it is not wise to make an enemy of fiends.” Harry muttered darkly.

“Your name from now on shall be Fiendfyre. Together, we’ll drown our enemies in the flames of hell.”

Fiendfyre let out a mighty roar, and a blast of dark purple flames shot high into the air, signifying the pact between the dragon and its rider.

*****

The air rushed around Aegon as Fiendfyre soared through the sky with mighty flaps of his expansive wings. It was the most potent feeling of freedom Aegon had ever known.

It felt like he was untethered from the force of gravity that tethered him to the ground. It felt like he could do anything and be anything. Up here, amongst the clouds, he was no prince of the realm or a scion of House Targaryen. He was just a dragonrider with innumerable possibilities.

At that moment, he decided that he didn’t want to become just another prince of the realm and mindlessly serve the Iron Throne for the rest of his life.

His namesake, Aegon the Dragon, forged a wide-spanning realm under House Targaryen by looking west and taking everything he saw using his dragons.

Aegon looked east and saw a vast ocean and his future. His grandmother's words echoed in his mind, and he gave them due consideration. Now that he had gone ahead and attacked King’s Landing, he had to leave the continent. It didn’t matter whether he was provoked or not. He could see he’d have little future in Westeros so long as his father lived.

He thought of different Free Cities where he could safely shack up. His first choice was Pentos because he had several acquaintances there who’d happily offer him sanctuary. He supposed it was one of the best things that happened with his short stint at the helm of authority in Dragonstone. After Pentos, he’d choose Braavos as a possible city to spend the rest of his life. He had considerably few contacts amongst the Bastard Daughter, but he could establish amicable relationships if he were to ask for aid from Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys.

But that was a last resort. He didn’t want to get indebted to House Velaryon as he wanted no part in their tussle with his grandfather for the Iron Throne.

That left him with the third option: Volantis.

The old blood of Volantis would hopefully welcome him into their city. It was a flimsy hope, as there was a lot of bad blood between House Targaryen and Volantis after Aegon I burned their fleet. But still, Volantis was the only Free City that did not turn on the Dragonriders after the Doom.

‘Hmm. They might be most eager to get their hands on a dragonrider tied to their city.’ Aegon thought.

There was, of course, obvious danger in starting a separate branch of House Targaryen in Volantis, one with a dragon as strong as Fiendfyre. The other Free Cities would be after his head, and there was the threat from Aunt Saera and her children to consider. Unlike his grandmother, he had no rosy view of his aunt in exile. Anyone capable of rising so fast in power in a city like Volantis was someone to be feared and respected.

Considering all his options, he supposed Pentos was the safest option. But he also had to think about what he’d do in Pentos. It was not as if he could spend the rest of his life upon the largess of his Pentoshi acquaintances.

But such plans were secondary as he had the most unpleasant tasks ahead. He had to convey his plans to Viserys, Aemma and Gael. Somehow, he had to convince them exile to Pentos was the best option before him. At the same time, he had to meet his friends in the Stormlands one last time before he departed. After all, he had vowed never to step foot in Westeros until his father passed away. It would most likely be an extended stay in Pentos, and he didn’t want to leave the friends he made to feel like he abandoned them.

Aegon perked up when he saw land in the distance. He could see the towering silhouette of the Dragonmont. He cracked the whip, urging Fiendfyre to fly low. It was time to meet his loved ones and share with them the bad news. Gael was the largest uncertainty, and he was unsure what he should do with her.

‘I suppose I’ll have to ask for counsel from Viserys and Aemma before making any decision.’ he thought with a sigh.  

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

His decision to embark on a path of self-imposed exile was met with predictable disapproval from Viserys, Aemma, and Gael.

But Aegon's mind was resolute. He had pondered over the matter extensively and was convinced that remaining in Westeros was a recipe for disaster. His volatile temper could easily lead to a catastrophic event, potentially turning him into a kinslayer. His actions in the capital had brought him perilously close to earning that dreaded title. Moreover, he yearned to carve his own path, to amass his own wealth and reputation, free from the shackles of the Iron Throne's patronage.

Gael was inconsolable when he made his decision known. She insisted on coming with him, but he talked her down from doing so for the time being. Instead, he promised to take her away once he properly settled in Pentos. It was a convenient lie, and he doubted Gael believed his lie. When she realised she couldn't change his mind, she spent her time sending messages to the capital to convince the Queen and the Small Council to override Prince Baelon's edict or order Aegon to go against his vow. Viserys was also trying the same as he had immediately sailed for the capital to have a word with Prince Baelon.

Yet, Aegon remained steadfast, disregarding their futile attempts. His mind was made up – he was leaving Westeros. The more he contemplated, the more it resonated. The prospect of liberating himself from the constraints imposed by the Iron Throne would be realised in his exile to Essos. This was the freedom he craved, an opportunity to construct something solely through his own endeavours.

With his family's futile attempts to change his father's mind in vain, Aegon turned to his Pentoshi contacts from Dragonstone. He sent a message to the Prince of Pentos seeking asylum, but he also subtly hinted at a potential outreach to Volantis. This strategic move would surely pique the Prince's interest. The intricate political dynamics between the Free Cities would never allow Volantis to gain the allegiance of a dragonrider. With his aunt's presence in Volantis and ties to the Triarchs, Aegon was confident that the Pentoshi wouldn't want him to settle in Volantis.

With that out of the way, Aegon left Dragonstone on Fiendfyre to visit his friends in the Stormlands and say his goodbyes.

His first stop was Storm's End, the stronghold of House Baratheon. Lord Baratheon was furious with him for his decision to exile himself to Essos, but the man was also astute enough to recognise the futility of changing Aegon's mind. Borros was even more challenging to handle and insisted on coming along with him across the Narrow Sea.

"I'll come along, and so will Jon and Hector." Borros argued as they threw stones into the crashing waves beneath the walls of Storm's End.

"If you three come with me, who'll be left to crush the heads of the Dornishmen?" Aegon asked amusedly.

"Bah! Stormlanders have been killing Dornishmen for thousands of years. I'm sure they could do without us three for a while." Borros said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Borrows is right. Besides, spending some time in Essos might be the best thing that happened to me in a while." said Jon Tarth.

"But it won't be for a while. I don't plan to return anytime soon." said Aegon.

"All the more reason we should come with you." said Borros, throwing a stone with more force into the water below, making a substantial splash.

"And do what? There is nothing for you to do in Essos." said Aegon.

"We could form a sellsword company and fight the slavers and the Dothraki. We'll have battles every day." Borros said with an excited smile.

"That's a fantastic idea!" Jon said excitedly. "Just think about it. All the glory in the world will be ours to claim. Our names will be written in gold, especially with that dragon on our side."

Aegon couldn't help but chuckle at his friends' romanticised outlook on what he should do on Essos. But he gave the idea of creating a sellsword company some serious thought. It was not a bad idea, considering all his training so far had focused mostly on warfare. The business of war was highly profitable in Essos as the Free Cities were always waging proxy wars. He was no master of spice trade to make an honest living in Essos, nor was he a banker.

Besides, the greatest market in Essos was the slave trade, and he had no intention of getting entangled in it.

"You know, Jon. You might be onto something." Aegon grudgingly admitted.

While being a sellsword was not an honourable profession, it was better than being a slaver.

"You're giving it  serious thought." Jon looked at him in surprise.

"Hmm. It's not a bad idea considering my options." Aegon admitted with a sigh.

"This coming from the man who thought killing is bad…" said Jon with a chuckle.

"I have changed my position on that. There are many people on both sides of the Narrow Sea that need killing." said Aegon.

"That's true, but none are more deserving than the Dornishmen. I could kill a thousand of 'em with my bare hands, and that's still not enough." Borros muttered darkly.

Aegon eyed his friend, who nursed a burning hatred for all things Dornish. But having seen the depravities the Dornish were up to at the border, he could understand Borros somewhat. It was an essential aspect of a Stormlander to hate the Dornishmen – a tradition the Baratheons were thrust upon from the time of Orys Baratheon.

"My father might not allow me to travel to Essos, but you can take Jon with you," said Borros, patting Jon's shoulder, "He is loyal and a good swordsman to have. You'll need a trustworthy man to watch your back, Aegon."

"Borros is right. You'll need someone you can trust. Let me come with you." Jon piqued in with determination shining in his eyes.

"But what about your family? Lord Tarth might not…"

"My uncle?" Jon asked with a derisive snort. "He is the man who refused to help my sister when Lyseni slavers captured her. I care not one whit for his opinions."

Aegon had nothing to say to that. Compared to the suffering of his friend who lost his sister to Lyserni slavers and had to live with the knowledge that she was serving in a pillow house, Aegon's troubles were peanuts. He remembered the blasted incident where everything changed for Jon Tarth as well as House Targaryen. While Jon lost his sister to the Lyseni invasion of Tarth, House Targaryen lost Prince Aemon to a crossbow bolt.

The slavers were routed from Tarth by Prince Baelon, but many wounds and losses remain to this day. Aegon supposed he could take Jon along, who disliked Tarth, haunted by the memories of a sister he couldn't save.

"I'll be honoured to have you by my side, Jon. But we must take permission from Lord Boremund." Aegon eventually caved in.

He spent almost a week in the Stormlands, mostly visiting his friends like Hector Swann of Stonehelm and some of his acquaintances among the lords and knights of the Stormlands. When he was finally done, he returned to Storm's End and picked up Jon along with him to Dragonstone.

But his return to Dragonstone was ripe with new developments.

****

Aegon looked on in wonder as he stared at the bright blue dragon lounging on the beach lazily. Its bright blue scales with specks of silver in between gleamed under the sun as it snored peacefully while coiling around a boulder. The dragon was sleek and beautiful. Dreamfyre – the dragon of the late Rhaena Targaryen, was sleeping soundly on the beach near the entrance to the castle. He had landed Fiendfyre on the beach instead of inside the walls of the castle upon noticing the dragon's presence.

"Whose dragon is that?" Jon asked, trying to smooth out his hair and clothes after a long ride on Fiendfyre.

"That is Dreamfyre." Said Aegon, frowning at the she-dragon as it slept peacefully.

"I thought it was one of the riderless dragons." Jon whispered to him.

"She is. I don't know how she could've come to Dragonstone. She is supposed to be bunkered in the Dragonpit."

Fiendfyre let out a low growl as he pinned his green eyes on the sleeping Dreamfyre.

"Peace, Fiendfyre."

Aegon patted the snout of his dragon to pacify its temper. His dragon had grown up tasting dragon meat and bones. Ever since Fiendfyre bonded, Aegon had constrained his dragon to a strict diet of oxen, pigs and goats. Even so, he knew Fiendfyre yearned for dragon flesh from time to time, especially when he saw smaller dragons.

Fiendfyre let out a disgruntled roar and turned his head away from the sleeping dragon.

Aegon chuckled, seeing Fiendfyre's antics. He also saw Jon looking between the two dragons with a sense of loss.

"That is a dragon coming close to pouting. You're lucky to witness this rare occasion, my friend." Aegon patted Jon's shoulder with a grin.

"Uh-huh. But I think you might be interested in seeing that." said Jon, pointing into the distance further north.

When Aegon cast his sight to the north, he found two horses riding towards him in the distance. But the most peculiar thing was he could see Gael and his grandmother riding those horses.

"Have you ever met the queen, Jon?" Aegon asked his friend.

"Only from a distance."

"This is indeed your lucky day. Get ready to meet her up close." Aegon muttered and waited for the horses to draw near.

He stared at the placid expression on his grandmother's face as she stopped her horse a few paces across from his position.

"Don't just stand there like a mule. Help me down, grandson." Alyssane snapped at him.

Aegon immediately sprang to action and helped his grandmother carefully down the horse. He kept a hold on the horse's reins, while his grandmother smoothed out her riding leathers.

"Who is this young man?" Alysanne asked, scrutinising his friend.

"Jon Tarth, your grace. I'm most honoured to be in your presence." Jon fell to a knee and bowed his head.

"He is my friend. He has pledged his sword in my service."

"Is that so?" Alysanne gave his friend an appraising look before turning her old, wisened eyes on him. "Come with me. We have much to discuss."

Aegon found himself sitting across from his grandmother inside the castle with Gael by his side. Aemma was sitting beside his grandmother, cradling Rhaenyra in her lap.

"What have you decided, grandson? Will you stay and fight your father's decision or comply with exile as you vowed?" Alysanne asked without any reservation.

"I do not want a conflict, and the longer I stay, the greater the chance something untoward might happen. I have made arrangements with Pentos." Aegon informed his grandmother firmly brokering no room for any opposition.

"I see. You are adamant in this course of action?" Alysanne asked with a frown.

"I have thought long and hard, grandmother. I cannot live close to my father. Exile is the best option before me." he said after sighing.

"I agree." Alysanne said making Aegon's eyes wide briefly at his grandmother's approval.

But then again, he shouldn't have been that surprised. She was the one who suggested Pentos in the first place.

"But you'll not go to Essos alone. You'll take Gael with you…"

"What?" Aegon gasped.

"Your grace!" Aemma also looked shocked.

"You'll take Gael with you to Pentos as your wife. You'll marry my daughter here – on the land of our ancestors in the traditions of the Freehold." Alysanne said rather firmly.

The only ones in the closed room who were immediately happy upon the Queen's declaration were Gael and Rhaenyra. Gael was obviously pleased with having both of her desires met, while Rhaenyra was delighted because she was chewing on the doll Aegon had gifted her without Aemma stopping her.

"Thank you, mother." Gael sprang from her seat, discarding all decorum, and hugged the queen with a wide smile and tears running down her cheeks.

Seeing Gael's reaction killed some choice words Aegon had in store for his grandmother for butting into his life and making decisions that radically changed the entire situation. How was he supposed to care for Gael in a foreign city? How was he even supposed to act as a husband? He didn't know the first thing about a married life! To make it all worse, he would instantly become a sworn enemy in his grandfather's eyes more than he already was. Just thinking about the colossal pit of hell he was falling into made Aegon sit up straight and try to talk himself out of the noose tightening around his neck without offending the woman he loved.

"Is this really wise?" Aegon tried not to blanch at the glare Gael was directing at him.

Heedless of that, he prowled on.

"Pentos is a foreign city, and it'll take time for me to set myself up. The situation there will be volatile and untoward for Gael, and I have no idea about marriage. We'll be alone and unsupervised in an unknown land." Aegon said in a rush before anyone could interrupt him.

When silence greeted his comment, he looked to Aemma to speak some sense.

"Aegon speaks the truth, my queen. He might be a knight, but he is still young." Aemma spoke in his defence.

But that wall of support was easily shattered by the shrewd mind of the queen of Westeros.

"Aegon is as old as you were when you birthed Rhaenyra. Is marrying my daughter such a hardship that you'd elevate it above the pain you suffered in the birthing bed, dear Aemma?" Alysanne asked sharply, and Aemma bowed her head in defeat.

Aegon could feel the situation getting out of hand. Seeing his primary ally folding so easily before the cutting words of his grandmother, he knew he was losing ground and had to somehow rescue himself.

"Just think of what grandfather will do. He'll already be mad about what I did, and Gael claiming Dreamfyre without his consent won't calm him down. Is it wise to make him madder by this marriage and talking Gael across the Narrow Sea? He'll send Daemon and my father with an army to bring us back." Aegon tried to reason.

"I see. What do you suggest, Aegon? Tell me of your plan." said Alysanne, leaning forward in her seat with her lilac eyes glaring into his mismatched eyes.

"I say Gael stay at Dragonstone by Aemma's side as her lady companion. I'll remain at Pentos in exile and establish myself within the city in a year's time. It'll be more than enough time to accumulate some wealth and familiarise myself with the city. Then, we could speak with the king and gain his blessings for the marriage."

Aegon gulped as he became the recipient of an unimpressed stare from his grandmother and Gael.

"I see. This plan of yours is not to my liking, so this is what you're going to do…"

Aegon held back the urge to sigh as his grandmother outlined her wish and what she wanted to happen.

****

The sun dipped low in the horizon, almost partially leaving the sky while darkness started to creep in from the east. Twilight settled on the shores of Dragonstone while a chilly sea breeze swept into the land.

Aegon stood on the beach dressed in the finest fabrics he owned. The heraldry of House Targaryen was stitched near the chest, while the rest of the doublet was black with some gold trimmings. His attire was reminiscent of the Targaryen heraldry – a three-headed dragon on a field of black. This particular attire was something he had reserved for meeting dignitaries from the Free Cities, but now it served as his wedding attire.

He saw the lost cause from a league away after seeing the resolve of his grandmother. Of course, he had the power to reject his grandmother and do as he pleased, but making enemies left, right, and centre was political suicide. His grandmother was one of the best voices he could count on in the royal court to support his side of the story. He'd be mad to spurn the sole support he has in his grandfather's court over the issue of his marriage to Gael.

He had some time to think things through, and outside of his own misgivings, the idea of marrying Gael was not as bad an idea as he initially thought. Sure, he was stepping into the unknown when looking at uncertainty in an unfamiliar land. He could not divine the future in Pentos, and bringing Gael into that uncertain future was dangerous for her and himself.

However, Gael was now a dragonrider, making it all the more important to tie her close to the Targaryen family. It was a pragmatic move on his part, but he had seen what had happened to Princess Rhaenys. He had no interest in seeing the same happen to Gael.

The last but most important point of consideration was Gael's own desire to marry him. It was her wish to marry him, and that made a world of difference despite his concerns about leading a married life this early. As long as Aegon could remember, he couldn't think of denying anything Gael desired. She was always his best friend and closest confidant. Spending the rest of his life with her as her husband was not that much different. After all, he had seen many women in the capital and the Stormlands. None of them had attracted him like Gael, and that's how he knew she was the woman for him despite the icky feeling of marrying his aunt by blood.

Taking a deep breath, he watched Ser Reginald and Maester Gerardys whispering quietly by the side, making the preparations as ordered by his grandmother. He didn't know why his grandmother insisted that the marriage was conducted in the Valyrian tradition, but he could guess one of the reasons.

Lately, his grandmother developed a dislike for the Seven. It was a gradual dislike that built up after the tragic passing of Aunt Maegaelle. The abrupt arrival of Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys was also a surprise. Lord Corlys stood a respectful distance away, whispering with his nephew Vaemond Velaryon.

"My Prince."

"Maester?" he nodded at the maester and Ser Reginald.

Both men sported grave faces, and he already knew what they would say.

"This marriage could be officiated in the sept. Having the Faith to recognise your marriage would be essential to ensure your position in the succession." said Maester Gerardys.

"I understand. Please tell this to the woman who organised all this." Aegon said calmly.

"My Prince, this is something that'll affect your future. King Jaehaerys might strike you out of the succession and even the family." Ser Reginald said gravely.

"I know. But I'm hoping my grandfather understands my situation." Aegon said, knowing there was nothing else for him to do but face the consequences of today's actions.

"I suppose the substantial dowry the queen brought in her ship is something that ought to be some help." Ser Reginald grouched.

Aegon had to admit that was the only piece of good news his grandmother brought. He didn't know how, but his grandmother had arranged for a substantial sum of gold and other gifts for Gael. It was unnecessary with his current arrangement with Pentos, but it'd undoubtedly come in handy for an extended stay in Pentos and some of the plans taking root in his mind.

Further conversation came to a halt as his grandmother, Rhaenys, and Aemma came escorting Gael. Gael was dressed in a cream-coloured dress, which highlighted her gentle features. Her eyes were drawn with kohl, and so were her eyebrows. It had something to do with Valyrian tradition, but most of the marriage talk with Gael flew over his head as he was busy with other matters. The only thing he had to do was to prepare a hearth on the beach, and he did so by collecting some firewood and firebricks.

Gael stood across from him while his grandmother started applying kohl below his eyes and eyebrows as well.

"It's for Balerion to look favourably on your union." Alysanne said.

Aegon smoothed out his expression as something must've shown on his face. His right hand was taken by his grandmother, who made him take Gael's hand.

"Call your dragon and light the hearth, daughter."

"Dreamfyre." Gael called loudly.

The blue dragon, observing everything from a corner, stood up and approached them on its hind legs. Gael directed her dragon to light the hearth, and the dragon lit it by breathing bright blue fire from its mouth.

"I call for the night and dawn as witnesses. I call forth darkness and light as witnesses. I call forth the sea and the land as witnesses. I call forth the Fourteen as witnesses. I call forth all mortal eyes present as witnesses. With the sacred fire as witness, I declare my daughter Gael Targaryen wedded to Aegon Targaryen."

The bright blue flames of the hearth cast its blue shade on the beach as the tides gently crashed into the shore. Aegon could see the beaming smile on Gael's face.; He couldn't help but return the smile despite the circumstances.

"Walk fourteen steps around the fire, and then you may kiss." Alysanne directed them.

Together, they walked around the fire, paying respect to the Fourteen Flames and the gods of Valyria. When they finished the last step, Aegon gently brushed his lips against Gael's, sealing their marriage. When he pulled back, he could see the elation in Gael's lilac eyes and the beaming smile on her red lips. He felt lighthearted watching her face and all the other faces witnessing their marriage.

Aegon hoped he could preserve that happiness throughout the rest of their life.

Alysanne came and hugged them both.

"It's my heart that I have given to you, Aegon. Promise me that you'll protect and love her." Alysanne whispered.

"I promise." Aegon vowed.

****

Night fell across Dragonstone, and all that Aegon could see when he looked out from the window of his room was darkness. He could hear the lull of the sea even as light rain started to fall from the night sky. The air was becoming chilly, but he left the window open.

He could hear a pair of footsteps and giggling coming from the corridor. He waited patiently until they finally reached his doorstep. It was none other than Aemma and Gael.

"I'll leave you two to it then." Aemma grinned goofily before leaving Gael at the doorstep.

Aegon took in the shy-looking Gael, which was a rarity in and of itself. He couldn't remember a time when Gael was this shy. He had to admit he was also in a similar state of mind, but he projected confidence and maturity while keenly aware of just how ignorant he was of what was about to come. He had an entirely awkward talking given by Maester Gerardys, Ser Reginald and even his good friend Jon. The maester's talk was fairly technical on the bodily relationship between a man and a woman. Ser Reginald talked more about the need to treat the bride gently and what women, in general, expected from their wedding night. Jon, on the other hand, talked and talked about his many trysts with women and how to pleasure them. Aegon suspected his friend was exaggerating a few things, but he wasn't sure.

"Why are you just standing there? Come in." Aegon offered his arm to Gael.

When she took it, he led her inside while closing the door. A small fire burned in the chimney, casting moderate light in the room.

"Are you tired? If you are, we can just rest and leave everything for tomorrow…" Aegon awkwardly suggested.

His feet hurt a bit after all the dancing he had to endure. There was not a large guest list owing to the urgency and secrecy of their wedding, but all the women present in the castle had danced with him in the evening.

"No!" Gael immediately said with wide eyes before redness returned to her cheeks, "I… I wouldn't wait for tomorrow…"

He didn't know who started it first, but they were kissing the next moment while tearing away the clothes they had on their body.

**  Lemon scene begins  **

Aegon's hands filled themselves with Gael's delectable ass as he lifted her up as if she weighed like a feather. The gasp of surprise and her look of sheer wonder and excitement could be seen as clear as day when he did that.

Immediately, a pair of lips slammed into his own. Passion burned between them as their lips danced in a frenzy while he was aware his fingers were sinking into Gael's soft ass. Gael let out a moan in his mouth while her slender arms wrapped around his neck, pushing him against her lips.

When they finally pulled apart, they were breathless and staring hungrily into each other's eyes.

"To the bed… now!" Gael demanded, her amethyst eyes darkening with lust.

He had no inhibitions in denying his wife's demand.

Aegon dropped his newly wedded wife into the feather bed on her ass and left a trail of kisses along her neck and shoulders.

Gael let out a girlish squeal when his lips brushed against her bountiful breasts. Gael panted breathlessly as his lips and teeth raked across the contour of her breasts.

Suddenly, Aegon found himself on his back against the bed with Gael pushing him into the bedding. His eyes widened when a warmth embraced the tip of his cock as she eased in herself across his length. He could see her eyes widen, and a muffled moan escaped her soft, puffy lips as she sank in.

He helped her take it slow as she rolled her hips against his and made herself familiar. But she started to pick up the pace and slam herself back into his cock repeatedly.

He traced his hands resting on her hips upward, enjoying every moment of it as he enjoyed the softness of her nubile body until they rested on her supple breasts.

"Oh, Aegon!" Gael let out a cry as his fingers dug into the expanse of her breasts while riding him.

Gael pressed herself against his palms, mewling as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. Her long silver hair danced behind her as her hips danced against his in passion.

He could see a sheen of sweat clinging to her body as Gael picked up the pace. He could feel her walls clamp down snugly against his length, and that made him realise she was near release. Gael's nails dug into the skin near his chest as she pressed herself against his body while calling out his name. When he also neared completion, he pulled out of her before spraying her hips with his seed.

Gael fell into his arms and rested her head against his chest as they panted and tried to capture their breaths.

Aegon wrapped his arms around his wife's nubile body and let his fingers trace circles on her naked back. He could feel Gael's lips brushing against his skin while they stayed silent and listened to the rain outside and the faint fire crackling in the hearth.

"Do you think we'll spend every night like this from now on?" Gael murmured against his chest.

Aegon chuckled upon hearing that.

"If that is my lady wife's wish, I shall make sure to bed her every night without fail." Aegon answered while pressing a kiss against her silver hair.

Gael nuzzled into the crook of his neck and pulled the covers over their body. That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

** Lemon scene ends **

The following day, the ships were ready to set sail for Pentos. It was decided that they'd take the ship the queen gifted them while the dragons flew on their own. He suspected his grandmother had been saving herself with all of this for the right moment. Aegon also started to suspect whether his grandmother had the power of dragon dreams or if she was just well-planned for the future of Gael.

The sailors were all from the Driftmark courtesy of Princess Rhaenys. There were also some trusted knights and servants accompanying them to Pentos on the queen's orders. But before he boarded the ship, his grandmother had some choice words to say.

"I wish this could've been avoided, Aegon. No mother likes to part with their children." Alysanne said, her eyes fixated on Gael, who was laughing at something Rhaenys was whispering into her ear.

"But perhaps this is for the best. I have lost many daughters, and all of them have stayed in Westeros. Only Saera survived, most likely because she is in Essos. Keep her in Essos and never let her set foot in this cursed land."

Aegon looked at his grandmother, who now had a mad gleam in her eyes. He knew what it was—paranoia at its height.

"But grandmother…" he started to protest.

"No, Aegon. Don't let her come here even for my funeral. Please keep her away from this land. The knowledge that my Gael is safe is all that I ask of you. Please promise me that, Aegon."

The earnest look in his grandmother's eyes was compelling, and Aegon knew he couldn't convince her otherwise. So, he made the promise to allay her fears about Gael's safety, knowing full well that they were in more danger in Essos.

"Then perhaps, one day, you could visit us in Pentos. She'd like that, as will I." he suggested tentatively.

"Yes. Something like that could be arranged." Alysanne nodded, a small smile gracing her lips.

Aegon and Gael said their goodbyes to the rest of the family before they boarded the ship. Two Velaryon ships sailed with them as escorts courtesy of Lord Corlys. Aegon and Gael stood on the ship's stern and watched their loved ones until Dragonstone disappeared in the distance.

AN:

For artworks, Discord channel: https://discord.com/invite/XKnmQxeGSu

Chapter Text

Aegon still couldn’t believe that he was a married man. Each morning, he woke up in bed with Gael nuzzling against his body, and still, he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that Gael was his wife. He struggled to come to terms with his marriage even as his right arm was wrapped around Gael’s waist while his face was resting against her soft silver hair. They were both in bed naked as the day they were born under a pair of warm sheets. Their ship, the Dragon Queen, almost glided through the Narrow Sea with hardly any disturbance.

It was almost as if the gods were keen on ensuring their journey was as comfortable as possible.

“We should be reaching Pentos soon. We should get dressed.” Aegon whispered.

“A little more.” Gael groaned lazily.

Aegon nuzzled against Gael’s neck and pressed a chaste kiss where he could feel her pulse. He started kissing down from her neck to her shoulder, where he pulled down the black silk sheet covering her nubile body.

“Mmm.” Gael moaned, her body twitching as his lips left a trail of kisses down her collarbone.

“Come on, Gael. You can rest in a good Pentoshi palace.” he said, rubbing her belly with his free hand.

Gael let out a frustrated groan at his incessant nagging and immediately sat up in their shared bed. She held the silk sheet gathered against her breasts and shot Aegon a glare.

“If you hadn’t disturbed my sleep, I’d have allowed you a peek under the sheets.” Gael said, turning her nose up haughtily.

“Really?” Aegon raised an eyebrow in amusement.

He suddenly sat up and hugged his wife from behind. Gael gasped when his arms wrapped around her and his lips pressed themselves against her earlobe.

“You’d deny your husband his marital rights, my dear wife. How cruel of you.” Aegon whispered hotly against her ear, making her body tremble.

As he started kissing down her shoulder blades and slowly started to pull down the black cloth covering her silky skin, someone knocked on the door.

“My prince, we have seen land.”

The playful mood he was in suddenly disappeared.

“Thank you, Ser Reginald.” he shouted back.

Aegon let out a disappointed sigh as he withdrew his hands from under the silk sheets covering his wife’s body.

“We’ll have all the time in the world in that palace you were talking about.” Gael said coyly as she gathered the sheets to her body and slinked out of the bed, to his displeasure.

Aegon let out a frustrated groan and jumped out of bed while Gael broke out into peals of laughter at his obvious frustration.     

They dressed in fine silks and leather and joined the crew on the deck in good time.

It was the first time Aegon cast his eyes on the city of Pentos, and even from a distance, he felt like it was stunning. But at the same time, the city gave off the feeling of a great legacy and ancient presence. The towering square brick towers jutting out into the sky over the massive curtain wall he could see in the distance. The city harbour he could see from the ship's deck was massive, with numerous ships lining up as far as his eyes could see to the north and south. There were a lot of fishing boats and merchant vessels, but there were also war galleys like the three ships under his command anchored at the harbour.

“The harbour is massive. It is larger than the one in King’s Landing.” Gael commented, taking in the massive city with wide eyes.

“The merchants and travellers of the Freehold built Pentos two thousand years ago. Of course, it will outstrip King’s Landing.” said Aegon.  

“Do you think Pentos also has a larger harbour than Braavos?” Gael asked curiously.

“I do not know. It is said the Braavosi have multiple harbours spread along their many islands.” Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

While he had read many things about the Free Cities of Essos as part of his education, he had never visited any of them. He only had second-hand accounts of maesters and other travellers to go by.

As their ships neared the harbour, Aegon saw Fiendfyre and Dreamfyre circling the city high in the sky. But he was not the only one to notice the presence of their dragons.

“How did they…? How did they know to come here in advance?” Gael gasped, staring at the dragons in utter surprise.

“They know more about us than we know about them when we bond. It takes a lifetime for a rider to learn about their dragon, but it only takes a dragon a heartbeat to know almost everything about us.” said Aegon, never taking his eyes off the two dragons.

He had been afraid when Fiendfyre and Dreamfyre took off into the sky as they crossed the Narrow Sea. He feared Fiendfyre would attack Dreamfyre, but the black dragon seemed to have overcome its cannibalistic appetite. Aegon had no idea how long that’d hold, but he hoped Fiendfyre would keep a lid on his desire for dragon flesh.

“Is that true?” Gael asked in wonder.

Aegon was broken out of his musings by Gael.

“Of course, it is true. There are many things you need to learn about dragons, Gael.”

“How fortunate I am to have found a husband who can educate me on such matters.” Gael said coyly, leaning into his side while batting her eyelashes at him playfully.

“Indeed. You’ll need to know a lot more about dragons, and you’ll need to train with me in dragon-riding tactics.” Aegon grinned at his wife.

“You have only recently started to ride dragons. How did you become an authority in dragon-riding?” Gael asked skeptically.

“I haven’t. I’ll be training with you as well. We’ll learn – together.” said Aegon.

“You’re so sweet.” Gael smiled as she said that while pressing a kiss to his cheek.

They stood on the deck with Aegon wrapping his right arm around Gael’s waist as they watched the city harbour drawing ever closer as the Dragon Queen, the Seastorm, and the Swiftwind sailed through the open seas.

****

The city of Pentos was vast but not as large as King’s Landing. Looking around at what he could see, he saw that the city was not well-defended either.

Aegon’s eyes searched for the natural defences of a city, but he couldn’t find any. The towers he had seen from the sea were inside the city and not along the walls as he had assumed. He had the feeling that these towers were not arrow towers because they lacked any battlements and arrow loops. They were just fancy towers that served as fine holdings of wealthy magisters of Pentos.

It became more apparent that Pentos sparingly gave any focus in defence of their city when he noticed the city only had one curtain wall. All the buildings inside the city walls remained hardly defensible. There were no defendable walls or structures like gatehouses, drawbridges, moats, etc. The sole defensible part of the city was the harbour, which had a curtain wall that dwindled across the rest of the city.  It was as if the Pentoshi were the least bit bothered with their city's defences. He couldn't see any hills further east of the city to suggest any natural defences. But hopefully, some caves or lakes provided natural defensive cover for the city.

These thoughts passed through his mind as Magister Yraedar Agtalos escorted Aegon and Gael into the city's interior.

“Prince Taedor is most eager to host you for however long you may desire, Prince Aegon.” said Yraedar Agtalos, sitting across from Aegon in the wheelhouse as they passed through the city's paved streets.

The Pentoshi magister was a simpering yellow-haired man dressed in fine silks and gold ornaments aplenty to show off his wealth. He was bald with a few turfs of red hair on his otherwise gleaming round head. The man had a neatly trimmed beard that shone an eerie copper colour.

“I shall convey our gratitude to Prince Taedor in person.” Aegon said, giving the Magister a gracious smile.

“Prince Taedor has invited you and the princess to dine with him in his palace tonight. In celebration of your arrival to our beautiful city, he is hosting a feast tonight, and you and your lady wife will be the guests of honour.” Magister Yraedar said excitedly.

“We will be honoured to attend the feast, Magister Yraedar.” said Aegon with a respectful nod.

“Magister, may I ask whether we’ll have enough space to house our dragons?” Gael asked.

“Of course, princess. Your palace was once assigned to Prince Maegor during his stay in our city. The palace grounds will have more than enough space for your dragons to comfortably rest.”

When the wheelhouse finally came to a stop, it was on the grounds of a lavish palace mostly made of white marble. Acres of land sprawled out from the palace, much of it covered in greenery, like grass and a beautiful garden. Close by were stables that hosted some horses, and servants waited diligently at the entrance with their heads bowed.

Aegon’s eyes fell on the collars around the necks of the servants, which made him uncomfortable.

‘Slaves.’ he thought with a grimace.     

This was one of the reasons why he considered Braavos a better place to settle, even though it was not as attractive as Pentos. Slavery was a reality and a major source of revenue in the Free Cities, except in the Bastard Daughter. He supposed he’d have to live with the disgusting practice for the remainder of his stay in the city. After all, he was not here to enlighten the Pentoshi about morality and order them how to live their lives.

“Shouldn’t these grounds suffice for your dragons, Prince Aegon? There is a large stable built behind the meadows, which once housed the Black Dread. We can construct another for Princess Gael’s dragon in short order. I’ve already dispatched workers to build a similar stable for the Princess’ dragon.” Magister Yraedar said.

“This will do, Magister.” said Aegon.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Fiendfyre and tried to project his thoughts to his dragon circling the sky. When he heard a distant screech, Aegon opened his eyes to see Fiendfyre diving, followed by Dreamfyre. Both dragons landed on the ground with their wings spanning wide. The ground trembled as their hind legs properly touched down, and their talons dug deep into the earth.

The Magister and the servants were now conveniently standing a few paces away from them while staring at their dragons in abject terror and awe.

“The dragons will need sustenance. They are quite picky when it comes to what they eat. They…” Aegon started.

“Prince Aegon, everything has been arranged with the servants.” Magister Yraedar said, almost in a hurry, as he nervously eyed the dragons, “Please, you need not worry about any of this. Please take some rest form your long journey. Surely, your voyage must’ve been taxing.”

Aegon exchanged a look with Gael. Seeing her nod, he decided to charge the household guards and servants who came with him from Westeros. He and Gael immediately freshened up in a hasty bath the servants prepared. While Gael went ahead to explore the palace and make quick friends with the Pentoshi servants, Aegon went ahead to check on the dragons.

He found Fiendfyre roasting a few pigs with his flame before munching on the cooked flesh with great gusto. The Dragonkeepers warily stood at a respectable distance from his dragon as they were afraid of getting on the wrong side of Fiendfyre’s temper. Unlike the other dragons in the Dragonpit, Fiendfyre hadn't grown accustomed to the presence of the Dragonkeepers.

“My prince.” the Dragonkeepers bowed low when they noticed his presence.

“How is he doing?” Aegon asked, coming to a stop beside the Dragonkeepers and watching Fiendfyre gorge himself on a couple of pigs.   

“Fiendfyre has not acted hostile so far, my prince. He seems to like these pigs more than their Westerosi counterparts.” Talos, the lead Dragonkeeper said.

“I see.” Aegon hummed, staring at the pigs with black skin and large dropping ears. “Are these Pentoshi pigs?”

“No, my prince. The servants claim they were brought from Volantis.” said Talos.

“I see. Where is Dreamfyre?” Aegon looked around for the mount of his wife.

“She has made herself comfortable in the pond behind those trees, my prince. A couple of Dragonkeepers are keeping watch over her.” said Talos, pointing to a group of trees in the distance.

Aegon squinted his eyes at the trees, and a spark of recognition came forth when he realised the trees were familiar. There were a couple of small coconut trees with distinct orange hues to them. Then, a couple of huge jackfruit trees made Aegon scratch his head in thought.

‘Does Pentos have a tropical climate?’ Aegon wondered.

Nonetheless, he walked all the way across the palace grounds and found the pond Talos was talking about. Sure enough, there was a sizeable pond with stone paved steps on the sides. But the water in the pond was dark green, showing that it needed some dredging before it could be used safely. But Dreamfyre was unbothered by such concerns and enjoying herself a bath in the pond. The blue dragon swept her tail in the pond and doused him with a lot of sand and water.  

Aegon just closed his eyes and slowly wiped away the wet sand sticking to his face. When he looked at his wife’s dragon, he had the distinct impression that Dreamfyre did that purposefully and was laughing at his misfortune.

“I see why you bonded with Gael. You’re a troublemaker like her, aren’t you?” Aegon muttered, remembering the time when Gael covered the bottom of his shoes in oil, which made him slip and fall.

Dreamfyre let out a snort from her snout and dipped into the pond with only her eyes and large silver horns visible above the water's surface. Letting out a sigh, he returned to the palace to get changed into a new outfit now that Dreamfyre had made his clothes dirty.

****

Aegon smiled indulgently at a random compliment paid by Prince Taedor Dalralis as the ball thrown in their honour progressed. Several half-masked guests danced in the ballroom of the Pentoshi Prince’s palace. He had been smothered by the guests with many rounds of compliments for his marriage and his arrival in Pentos. Gael was, of course, paid the same compliments by the Prince’s guests. The last he saw of his wife, she was in the company of a gaggle of Pentoshi noblewomen.  

The conversation then turned to trade, where the magisters and wealthy merchants of the city pitched in with their latest hauls in silver. All of them claimed great profits in their particular trade. Magister Adervys claimed he made three thousand silver from selling slave girls to various pleasure houses. Magister Amisarys claimed he made five thousand silver by selling Myrish glass in Braavos.

On and on, there were claims of increased trade, wealth, and profits as each magister and merchant tried to outperform each other. It was like he was in the middle of an auction, and everyone was after the position of the imaginary post of the soundest merchant in Pentos.

While Aegon disliked the topic of conversation, it was nonetheless informative. He got a tentative picture of who engaged in what trade and who had businesses with which Free City. He also knew who to find if he needed more guards, as there were quite a few magisters running businesses procuring Unsullied soldiers from the slave city of Astapor. While owning a slave was not on his list of to-do-things in Essos, he could grant them freedom. It was a far better future than living and dying as a slave. However, such measures were only the last resort if his plans to form a sellsword company didn’t pan out as hoped.

He politely declined a glass of wine offered by a servant. He was tempted to take the wine to wet his sore throat, but he was warned beforehand by Ser Reginald to never accept any drinks without being tested beforehand for poison. After all, the Free Cities used a different kind of court politics than Westeros. Here, grudges were settled using catspaws and poisons.

He looked around to look for Ser Reginald and found the knight farther away in the hall, keeping a close eye on Gael. That relieved Aegon because he had no idea who those women were or anything about their background. Then he searched for his friend Jon in the hall.

After searching for a while, he found Jon Tarth dancing with a masked woman.

‘I hope that woman is not a wife or daughter of some wealthy Magister.’ Aegon thought, knowing the proclivities of his friend.

He couldn’t spend much time observing his friend and wife as he was immediately invited back into socialising with some of the major spice merchants and ship owners of Pentos. After all, they were quite familiar with him in his short stint as Dragonstone’s castellan. He had spoken with many of them either directly or through proxies. His judicial use of tax concessions and port duties in Dragonstone made him many friends in Pentos. Most of them wanted assurances their trade with Dragonstone wouldn’t be hampered in his absence.

But such conversations came to a halt when Prince Taedor came to his side with a palpable excitement.

“Aegon, come. I want to introduce you to another popular figure in Pentos. I told you that I knew of your coming in advance. This is the woman who prophesied your coming to my beautiful city.”

Aegon frowned at the Pentoshi prince as the man led him out of the hall and towards an open balcony. He could see Ser Reginald stand and look to follow him, but Aegon shook his head and silently urged the knight to keep his eyes on Gael.

“I frankly thought you were being a gracious host and being humble about your magnanimity in preparing the palace on short notice.” Aegon said as they walked out of the hall into the adjoining balcony guarded by a couple of Unsullied guards.

“Ah! I understand the confusion, Aegon. But I was advised by this friend of mine about you a month ago. She predicted your arrival to Pentos and asked me to prepare the palace.”

“How did this friend of yours...” Aegon started sceptically.

“I knew about this meeting since the moment you were knighted Prince Aegon.” A lady dressed in a glittering red dress spoke gently as he arrived at the otherwise vacant balcony.

The lady in the red dress had her back turned, and he could see her hair was fiery red. But the most striking thing he saw was a globe of fire hovering over the woman’s right-hand palm. Her ludicrous claim aside, he became interested in the woman because she displayed the same affinity he had with the fire element.

“A pyromancer!” Aegon said with wide eyes.

This was one of the things he was looking forward to during his stay in Pentos. Since he was out of Westeros and away from the eyes of the Faith, he could explore the intricacies of magic without looking over his shoulder.

“Meet Yelena, the High Priestess of the Red Temple.” Prince Taedor said enthusiastically.

But that piece of information only put Aegon on guard. The Red Priests were known in Westeros as fire-worshippers, and they supposedly engaged in human sacrifice to please their Red God. At least, this was the perception that the septons and maesters had spread in Westeros.

But the High Priestess didn’t remotely look like what the septons claimed all the Red Priests looked like at all. The septons in Westeros whispered of dark sacrificial magic, twisting the flesh of the fire worshipers of the east. They spoke of dark demons emerging from the depths of seven hells and corrupting the skin of their worshippers to look like they were decayed. The septons spoke of black veins on the Red Priest’s body as their blood was drained by the demons and filled with black magic. The most often claims spoke of the soul being devoured by the demons, and as a result, the Red Priests have their face become a hollow husk and their eyes a fiery red akin to the flames of hell.

But Aegon saw nothing of that sort when High Priestess Yelena showed her face to him. The Priestess was a young woman of the same age as Gael in looks. She had cream skin that glowed almost eerily in the night. Her eyes were hazel brown, and Aegon wondered how he could clearly see the colour of her eyes during the night. Then, there was that shiny ruby necklace on her neck that gleamed eerily. He could feel a sense of great power from the Priestess, which was almost similar to that time when he bonded with Fiendfyre.

“I have seen you in the flames, Aegon Targaryen. The Lord of the Light has many plans for you.” Yelena said, staring at him as if she had already seen everything that was to be.

While Aegon was reconstructing some of the age-old biases instilled in him by the septons, he got the feeling these Red Priestess and her Lord of the Light fellow were trouble. But he was also reminded of the advice from his grandfather.

‘Even those we consider our enemies have their uses. So, be on guard around those you consider your enemies, but always be ready to use them to your advantage.’

Chapter Text

Jaehaerys was silent, frowning in thought as his plans lay shattered on the floor like a smashed clay pot.

He had left the capital on royal progress through the Reach for multiple reasons. He wanted to assess the situation in Oldtown and check in with the High Septon before he gave his blessings to a betrothal between Gael and Aegon. For that, he needed sound advice from Lord Hightower. While the rebellious elements within the Faith had subsided over the years, there were still pockets of opposition to the doctrine of Targaryen Exceptionalism. The key to preserving political power was vigilance, and he was a man who saw the need to keep an eye on his enemies. The rebellious elements in the Faith were unlikely to subside in his rule. It’d be foolish of him to think he defeated all detractors during his reign.  

Granted, Aegon and Gael were not siblings; they were aunt and nephew with a small age gap. However, the people of the Faith were not exactly known for their reasonable thinking and, instead, for their blind faith.

The other reason was the most obvious one, as it required a personal apology on his behalf to House Redwyne. After all, he was the one who unwittingly brought shame to House Redwyne. They were old and trusted allies, and the former lord of the Arbour was a good friend.

But not once did he foresee the scope of calamity that his absence would unleash on his family. The most damning of all was the gall of his son to make excuses and assign blame elsewhere.

“I have warned you time and again, father, that giving leeway to Aegon's indulgences is a grave mistake. He is headstrong, untamed, and shows no respect for…” Baelon's voice trailed off as his father's hand met his cheek with force.

Jaehaerys glared at his son, who stood shocked as the sound of the slap echoed across the solar. He could see Viserys and Daemon stir from beside Baelon at his action. If the situation were any different, he’d have never struck Baelon in the presence of his grandchildren. After all, he wanted some discipline within his household, but his son’s erratic and self-destructive actions in the past weeks removed any sort of inhibitions.

‘This is necessary. They need to see this if they are to learn from their father’s mistakes.’ Jaehaerys thought.

“Do you think me a fool, Baelon? Do you think I do not know what happens in my seat of power?” Jaehaerys roared as he took a step forward, forcing Baelon to take a step back.

“From the moment that boy was born, you have behaved like a petulant child, lost in a sea of anger. You have blamed that child for the loss of your wife – my daughter! Do you know who I blame? You!” Jaehaerys tore into his son by pushing him back, and he could see his words were more of a blow to Baelon than a push with his hand.

“You forced a third child on her when you should’ve been content with two male heirs. You took that risk knowing Alyssa might not survive the childbirth. So, why are you blaming Aegon for things far outside his control?” Jaehaerys thundered, but the answer he received was stunned silence.

Seeing the stunned faces of his son and grandchildren, the rage that had created an illusion of strength in his ageing body left him. Immediately, he felt like he was about to keel over.

“I…” Jaehaerys gasped as he slouched, but thankfully, Daemon was immediately by his side to keep him steady.

Baelon and Viserys quickly followed and helped him into a chair.

“Call the Grand Maester.” Baelon said in alarm.

“No. What I need is some water.” Jaehaerys said warily as he wiped off the sweat that suddenly built up on his forehead.

He rested his back against the chair and took a few calming breaths as Viserys poured some tepid water into a tumbler and offered it to him.

“Your self-loathing has doomed you, Baelon and doomed us all. Aegon was more than just a prince third in line to the throne. He was gifted with the arcane arts and a great practitioner of pyromancy. The best of the Freehold runs thick in his blood. Fire made flesh.” Jaehaerys uttered the phrase in the tongue of his ancestors.

“Father, I…” Baelon started but seemed to flounder for words.

“Must I do everything in this family? Can I not depend on anyone to care for the family and help me rule the Seven Kingdoms? Or am I doomed with idiots and weaklings who only bring more burden on my shoulders?” Jaehaerys bemoaned.

Once again, silence was the answer he received from his son and grandsons.

“Grandfather, I’ll cross the Narrow Sea and ask Aegon to return. He is my brother. He will not say no to me.” Viserys said earnestly.

Jaehaerys eyed his grandson, the one who tamed the mighty Balerion. It was a sad reality that his eldest grandson was without a dragon because of the passing of the Black Dread. But without a dragon or not, Viserys was the only one who understood a crucial lesson. Family was important, especially the Targaryens.

“It’s good that you hold such bonds, Viserys.” Jaehaerys nodded at his grandson before he cast his eyes onto the other two occupants in his room, “Do you know what is crucial for our family to hold the realm together?”

“Dragons.” Daemon answered immediately.

“No Daemon. It is the bond between us Targaryens that holds the realm together. We all have dragons bonded to us. What will happen when we have no familial bonds amongst us? What is holding us back from tearing each other for the sake of power?” Jaehaerys stared into the eyes of his grandson as he posed this question.

But, of course, he was taking things too far. His children and grandchildren had yet to learn the truth of such things. He learned such things living under the yoke of Maegor’s tyranny. His children and grandchildren had never suffered such hardships, which made them ignorant of such things.

‘But there is still hope and time to ensure that I leave the realm in capable hands.’ Jaehaerys thought, eyeing Viserys, who sported a look of understanding.

“If you cannot reconcile with your own son, how can I trust you to hold the Seven Kingdoms together? I suggest that you seriously rethink what you have done, Baelon.” Jaehaerys said, staring at his son in utter disappointment. “Leave. I have some things to discuss with Viserys.”

He watched his son and grandson leave before turning his attention to Viserys.

“Come closer, Viserys. Take a seat beside me.” Jaehaerys pointed at a chair across from him.

As Viserys made himself comfortable, Jaehaerys took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Do you care to know why Aegon the Dragon launched the conquest on Westeros?” Jaehaerys asked while palming the hilt of the dagger he carried with him.

“Because he saw the bright future of a united Westeros and the glory it’d bring to House Targaryen.” Viserys answered.

“Yes, my boy. That is what the Conqueror said to the Maesters so that they may write their books. The real reason is hidden here…” Jaehaerys unsheathed the dagger and presented it to his grandson.

“Inscribed on this blade in Valyrian letters is a prophecy – the song of ice and fire. Aegon had this dagger made so that those ascending the throne would always know their true purpose.” Jaehaerys said grimly. “Go now. Press the blade against a fire and read the prophecy. See the destiny of our family and the duty of a Targaryen king.”

As Viserys heated the blade and started reading the prophecy almost reverently, Jaehaerys thought of the actions he should take to secure the family from a certain danger. The fact that he had seen a Targaryen with an affinity to fire was an omen of good tidings. The relevance of the prophecy only became apparent when Aegon’s gifts manifested before his eyes fulfilling one part of the prophecy.

The Conqueror had called this prophecy the Song of Ice and Fire. Jaehaerys had assumed for all these years that the talk of ‘fire’ in the prophecy was related to the dragons. But now, he was unsure, especially after hearing the tale of Aegon’s miraculous feat. He had suspected Aegon’s gifts were somehow related to the prophecy, but he wasn’t entirely certain.

But after hearing Aegon managed to overcome dragonfire, Jaehaerys was certain Aegon’s affinity was the cornerstone of the great legacy in store for House Targaryen. It was now the need of the realm to tie Aegon’s bloodline close to the throne. He had no idea whether Aegon’s gift would pass on through blood, but he had to assume the gods, in their wisdom, would pass that blessing into the bloodline. Targaryens could fight the looming darkness that could plunge the world into darkness with their own fire.

“Your grace, I… I have read it. This… is this true?” Viserys asked with a stutter, looking at him with wide eyes.

“These are the words of Aegon the Dragon. He was a dreamer like Daenys, who foresaw the Doom of Valyria. Now, it’s time that we follow the warnings of Aegon the Dreamer. This secret is only passed through a Targaryen king to his designated heir.” Jaehaerys took a deep breath as his eyes turned glassy.

“Aegon passed this knowledge to Aenys. Aenys gave this knowledge to my brother, and he passed this knowledge to me. Now, you, young Viserys, bear this knowledge and the knife. It is now your burden to keep this knowledge and pass it on to your heir one day.”

“I… I don’t know what to say, your grace.” Viserys said, staring at the dagger with disbelief as the blade slowly cooled off and the Valyrian letters started to disappear in the process.

“There is nothing to say, grandson. It’s time for you to learn and take a more active role in ruling the kingdoms. At the same time, we must bring Aegon back to Westeros. The Prince born of Ice and Fire shall come from his bloodline, and that bloodline must sit on the Iron Throne.”

“I’d be all too happy to pass the throne to Aegon. He’s skilled in ruling and has a strong sense of honour. He’d undoubtedly be a great king.” Viserys said without hesitation, surprising Jaehaerys.

“You misunderstood me, Viserys.  I have already named Baelon my heir, and in time, your descendants will inherit the throne. But those descendants must carry the blood of Aegon as well. Should Aemma give birth to a son and Gael deliver a daughter, I ask that you betroth them.” Jaehaerys explained patiently.

The look of understanding that crossed Viserys’ was both heartening and disappointing to Jaehaerys. To think that his eldest grandson would callously throw away the Iron throne even if it were for a brother who saved Viserys’ life. Such callousness could not be tolerated.

“There is much you need to learn, grandson. The first lesson is that you don’t surrender the Iron Throne to anyone, even your brothers, just because you like them.” Jaehaerys admonished.

“I understand, your grace. It’ll not happen again.” Viserys looked down, properly chastised.

“Good.” Jaehaerys nodded, “Now, listen closely…”

As Jaehaerys started talking with his grandson, he privately hoped Viserys would rise to the occasion and be a good influence on Baelon and the rest of the family. He certainly saw potential in Viserys, but his grandson was not yet ready. At the same time, he knew that he couldn’t let Aegon and Gael be lost in the mad schemes of his wife. There was much work to be done, and Jaehaerys found himself alone with no one to share the burden.

****

Aegon stared at the ceiling, deep in thought, as he lay in bed. His thoughts mostly revolved around his plan to form a sellsword company. He had already sent some feelers in the underbelly of Pentos, where all the men of the wrong sort gathered. It was mostly the sellsword types, smugglers, thieves and those with outstanding debts that he attracted with the offer of good silver and a portion of loot in their potential contracts.

However, the downside of attracting more such unscrupulous characters was increasing the risk of backstabbing and spies. After all, Essos had not been historically kind to dragonriders trying to raise an army. He suspected quite a few men he attracted into his budding sellsword company were charlatans and enemies. It was one of the reasons why he never brought such characters into the palace. He couldn’t brazenly endanger Gael just because he was building up a sellsword company from scratch.

But there was one positive outcome from his reputation. His name was enough to attract prospective sellswords to join easily. Having a dragon’s allegiance had its advantages.

Sooner or later, he’d have a substantial number of men to form a proper sellsword company and train the men to fight as a single cohesive force. By then, he’d have to find work for the sellsword company if he wanted to succeed in this venture.  

“You’re deep in thought, and I can tell you’re not thinking about me.” Gael accused as she hugged his torso while lying in bed.

The warmth of her body pressing against him made Aegon snap out of his thoughts.

“Ah, I was just thinking about our prospective sellsword company.” Aegon said, rubbing circles on Gael’s exposed skin along her shoulder blades.

“Are you still worrying about this? I told you about the offer from the Red Temple…”

“No.” Aegon said firmly.

Gael stared at him in disapproval, and she pinched him quite painfully.

“Ow! Why did you do that?” Aegon looked at his wife in reproach.

“Because you’re being difficult. Why can’t you accept the offer from Priestess Yelena?” Gael asked with a pout.

“I told you to keep away from the Red Temple and their priests. They’re not as benign as you think they are.” Aegon warned for the umpteenth time.

“You are no fun, Aegon.” Gael huffed, “Don’t tell me you believe all that nonsense preached by the Septons about Essos.”

“Keep in mind that those Septons included Septon Barth and even Septa Maegelle.” Aegon reminded his wife, but Gael was as headstrong as ever.

“Barth and my sister can be wrong. They’re not infallible. Priestess Yelena is a devout believer in her Red God, just as Barth and Maegelle believed in the Seven. She even has similar powers to yours. She also told me…” Gael suddenly fell silent and looked away with red cheeks.

“Told you what?” Aegon asked curiously.

“She told me of the prophecy of Azor Ahai’s coming – the prince that was promised.” Gael said almost reverently.

Aegon immediately groaned in his mind upon hearing the talk of prophecy. He pretended to smile and listen as Gael regaled him with all the colourful nonsense the Red Priestess managed to jam into Gael’s head in a short time.

When he allowed the Red Priestess to visit him in the palace, he was only polite and tried not to offend a major religious sect of Pentos. He never realised the High Priestess of the Red Temple would sink her claws into Gael and fill her head with nonsense. He suspected the Red Priestess was making up all sorts of prophecies and other magical stories to entice him and Gael into becoming the worshippers of her Red God.

It was particularly effective on Gael, who had lived a sheltered life so far, which made her predisposed to strike up friendships with anyone she met. The rumours about her simple-mindedness in King’s Landing only made it worse as Gael shut herself from anyone outside the family. He supposed the blame could be laid at the queen’s feet. Her paranoia had touched the sky after the passing of Septa Maegelle. It went to such an extent that Gael even refused to have any ladies in waiting.

Aegon feared the High Priestess was slowly edging into that vacant spot. The Pentoshi noblewomen were also trying to fill that vacancy but were not as successful as the Red Priestess.

Now, his dilemma was how to breach this subject and convey the need to guard against those who were out to influence them without offending Gael’s sensibilities.

“Gael.” Aegon called, cutting off on all the virtues she was singing about priestess Yelena.

“Yes, Aegon?”

“Remember who we are. Do not get swept away by the talk of magic and prophecies. We are the blood of the dragon. We do not bow down to those who perform parlour tricks on the streets. If we do that, we won’t be much different from them.”

“But Aegon…” Gael whined as she straddled him and pressed her naked body against his chest while her smooth, warm lips hovered just above his own. “Yelena is a friend. I cannot mistreat a friend.”

“Then treat her as a friend and not as your religious guide. We are Targaryens born under the light of the Seven. Our customs and culture are incompatible with the Red Faith.”

“But..”

“Do you wish to take a slave or use human flesh as a sacrifice for the Red God?” Aegon asked, not allowing Gael to bring him under her wiles.

“No.” Gael said with a pout.

“Then do not abandon the gods adopted by the Conqueror. Our family suffered greatly to reform the Faith of the Seven. If we abandon the Faith for a foreign god, no matter the circumstances, those we love in Westeros will face scrutiny.” Aegon reminded his wife, “Do we want Viserys and Aemma to be in discomfort because of our actions?”

“No.” Gael answered after an extended period of silence.

“So, keep your distance from the Red Faith for their sake, my love.”

“Fine! I’ll keep a respectful distance from the Red Faith, but Priestess Yelena’s offer is not so bad. She only seeks to hire our aid to repel the Dothraki raiders and bandits from constructing their temple. Destroying bandits and Dothraki barbarians who take slaves cannot cause offence to the Faith in Westeros.” Gael argued.

“It’s not that simple, my love.” Aegon rubbed her cheek with his thumb while attempting to give her a reassuring smile, “We’ll get a better offer from somewhere.”

“Maybe, but you’re doing nothing except collecting some strange wood and horns. We can use that time to provide an escort to the priestess and her entourage.” Gael remarked flippantly, making him wince.

It was not his brightest idea to craft a wand, and his obsession with collecting twigs was getting noticed. Considering the practices of his family, Aegon contented himself with the fact that his quirks were hardly harmful or cause for queasiness to those around him.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” Aegon said to escape an embarrassing conversation.

Thankfully, Gael dropped the subject in favour of carnal pleasure as she started leaving a trail of kisses along his neck and chest. Like any sane man, He was only too happy to succumb to that.

****

Aegon sneaked a peek at the sleeping form of his dear wife. Gael was soundly asleep on the bed, safely tucked away under the warmth of a couple of sheets. Her shiny silver hair fanned across the pillow, and her chest rose and fell evenly. Using that moment, he sneaked into his solar and opened a safe on the table. Inside the safe was his small but substantial collection of wand wood. He had collected pine, rosewood, ash, apple, weirwood, and many other rare and unnamed woods from Westerosi trees.

But none of them gave him any magical response.

He knew the wood was useless without a sustainable magical core, but he hoped for even a tiny spark. But that never came to pass.

The sad fact was that he was hopelessly ignorant of wand lore. The only thing he knew was a random piece of information that stuck with him in his memories of Harry Potter. It was a small piece of information he gleaned from Ollivander, the wandmaker who made Harry’s wand.

But over the years, he had come to realise that he was not that lucky to score a magical wood and craft a wand by his lonesome. He used random woods as a conduit because he thought there was magic in living wood, just like in creatures like men and dragons. He just had to find the right wood.

While the idea was sound, the lack of a magical core was the issue. It was not as if Westeros was teeming with magical life. The only magical creatures he knew were dragons owned by his family. Unfortunately, all his attempts to gain a piece of dragon heartstrings were rebuffed by the King when he petitioned the man in secret. The only dragon that died in his lifetime was Balerion the Black Dread.

The mighty dragon’s passing saddened him, but he was also excited to get his hands on the heartstrings. However, his plan never came to fruition because King Jaehaerys, in his wisdom, saw to it that not a single piece of flesh, blood or even the hide of Balerion remained. At least, to his knowledge, those remains were cremated, and the ash interned within King Aegon’s grave. He had appealed to at least keep the dragonhide as they were quite useful for making armour and even boots, but for some reason, his grandfather was keen to see no such remains survive.

Aegon let out a sigh and closed the safe. The one piece of wood he had failed to collect was from a Heart Tree. According to First Men legends, the Children of the Forest supposedly built their communities around Heart Trees, and these trees were the abode of the Old Gods. The Children also carved the faces on some Weirwood trees which later came to be known as Heart Trees. The normal Weirwood was as neutral in his hand as any other piece of wood. So, he was holding out hope for getting some reaction from an actual piece of wood from a Heart Tree.

But the issue of a good core remained an issue. Only after that did the issue of compatibility even come into effect. But sadly, there was nothing he could do with that at the moment.

‘Unless I find something interesting in Essos.’ Aegon thought as he stared outside the palace grounds where it was raining.

Suddenly, two familiar hands wrapped around his torso and a familiar warmth pressed against his back.

“Why did you leave me in bed alone?” Gael asked sleepily.

“Look, Gael. It’s raining.” said Aegon, pointing to the palace grounds where the dark clouds in the sky were showering the beautiful city of Pentos with rainwater.

It was beautiful watching the rain pour down on the green landscape of the palace grounds.

“We should go to the pond.” Gael suddenly said, looking excited. “It is said by the servants that fish in the pond dance on the ground during the rain. I don’t want to miss it.”

“You want to go to the pond in this rain?” Aegon asked sceptically.

“Yes! It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” Gael squealed and ran for their bedroom, probably to get dressed.

Aegon shrugged before following Gael. Even he found it interesting to stand in the rain without anyone chasing him away. The one thing he liked about his stay in Pentos was the freedom he enjoyed, which made him wonder what was happening in Westeros.

Chapter Text

Alysanne took a deep breath, enjoying the chilly air of Dragonstone. It was morning, and the eastern sun was rising on the horizon. A slight dew hung loosely in the air. The sea sang its melody as the waves kissed the island's shores.

Her eyes looked east, where the sky and sea met on the horizon. In some far away distance, her daughter was safe from the cruel whispers and rumours of the royal court. That knowledge gave her a sense of peace.

One by one, Westeros took her daughters. Only Saera survived, and she forced herself not to think about the hardships her daughter went through to build a life in Volantis. But at least she could rest easy in knowing that Saera was among the living.

There were rumours that Saera had children with an Archon of Volantis. But she couldn’t confirm the veracity of such claims.

‘I’ll have to send word to Aegon to see whether the rumours are true.’ Alysanne mused.

If her daughter Saera had children of her own, they needed to be reached out. The sad fact was she didn’t even know their names. She’d at least like to send a letter to her grandchildren before she passed away. It was also her heartfelt wish to see Saera one last time before her time came.

She hoped dearly for her daughter to reach out to Aegon once word reached Volantis. If not, she could always ask Aegon and Gael to reach out to Saera.

The door behind her opened with a bang.

“Do you know what you have done? Do you understand the shame your actions have brought upon our family?”

Alysanne paid her husband no mind and merely gazed at the rising sun. She sighed almost wistfully as the warm orange rays of the sun peppered her skin with warmth while ignoring her husband. She knew Jaehaerys had arrived early in the morning. She was informed the moment his ship arrived at the harbour by the servants.

“Alysanne!” Jaehaerys thundered.

“Don’t shout too much, husband. I won’t be held responsible if you keel over and die while shouting at me in my solar.” Alysannes said with a scoff.

She plucked a brush from her nightstand and brushed her hair while keeping her eyes on the horizon. Her husband could strut around, huff, puff and shout, but she wouldn’t be intimidated in the least. The blood of the dragon ran in her veins the same as her husband's, and his dismissive attitude towards her and the women in the family was no longer tolerable. She had lost most of her daughters to the callous plans of her husband and his Small Council.

The time when she easily caved into his demands was long over.

She had taken her time and moulded her grandson to her whims so he'd one day do what she wanted. Aegon performed better than she had hoped, and her daughter was safe in Essos. Her plan had come to fruition, and there was little her husband could do to undo what had happened.

Of course, she never meant for any dislike to fester between Aegon and Baelon, but that blame rested solely on her idiotic son’s shoulder. She loved Baelon dearly, but sometimes he reminded her too much of her husband.

“I will bring back Aegon and Gael.” Jaehaerys said with gritted teeth.

“Good luck in your ventures, husband. I wish you the best on your trip to Pentos.” Alysanne said dismissively.

“I will not be the one to travel to Pentos. I have decided to send Viserys and Daemon to bring them back to King’s Landing.”

Alysanne didn’t deign to reply to her husband's comment and instead continued combing her hair.

“I have decided to give my blessing to their marriage and Gael’s claim over Dreamfyre.”

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to know they have your approval.” she said sarcastically.

“Why are you doing this, Alysanne? Why do you challenge me every step of the way?” Jaehaerys asked in a calmer tone.

“There have been many instances where I warned you repeatedly not to interfere with my daughter's life. But you never listened. I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

“Take matters into your own hands?” Jaehaerys asked incredulously, “How is it safe for Aegon and Gael to live in Pentos instead of Dragonstone or King’s Landing?”

“They’re safe in more ways than you can ever know, husband. The greatest danger my daughter faces is from this land. In Pentos, she’ll be safe, and she has Aegon by her side to protect her.” said Alysanne.

Jaehaerys let out a frustrated yell before storming out of her solar.

Alysanne scoffed as she continued brushing her hair. Her husband could throw all the tantrums that he wanted, and he could send even the gods to do his bidding, but she was confident Aegon would not break his word. Aegon might love his siblings dearly, but his hate for Baelon was such it triumphed over everything. This could’ve been mitigated if Jaehaerys had listened to her advice and controlled Baelon’s behaviour.

But, like always, her words fell on deaf ears. Her husband couldn’t see past his self-importance ever since he became too obsessed with the power the Iron Throne granted him.

‘And the idiots in the mainland call him the Conciliator.’ Alyssane thought with a snort.

*****

Ser Reginald Reyne kept a close eye on the Red Priests he was escorting with the rest of the sellswords in their fledgling sellsword company, the Dragonshields. He didn’t trust these fire-worshippers with a potato, much less the wife of his prince. But he was forced to watch from a respectable distance as Princess Gael was surrounded by the infernal Red Priestess and her entourage.

He couldn’t say anything outright regarding the proximity of these foreign priests and priestesses because they were out here in the Flatlands guarding the pilgrimage of the Red Priests. The Red God’s followers were leading a religious procession towards one of their holy sites in the Flatlands. He didn’t know why they couldn’t just do one in the Red Temple of Pentos, but he wasn’t going to make a fuss because this was the first contract Prince Aegon negotiated on behalf of the Dragonshields.

He had advised the prince against forming a sellsword company. As a knight, he couldn’t allow himself to fight for gold and abhorred such people.

In his eyes, they had no honour. Yet, here he was, at the helm of a sellsword company his prince created in Pentos, training with some of these swords for hire. His sense of honour clashed with the necessity of doing so, creating a storm of conflict within him.

As a knight, it was important that if he took a sword into his hands, it was for a worthy cause, not for gold.

But he found himself at the helm of a sellsword company his prince created in Pentos. He found himself training with some of these swords for hire. Though his sense of honour abhorred mingling with such honourless cur, he understood the necessity of doing so.

“I know what you’re thinking. We need the gold and silver to survive if we’re to remain politically independent from Pentos.” said Aegon.

“I know my prince. But I suspect that is not the only reason you want to form a sellsword company. After all, there are other ways to make a living.” Reginald pointed out.

“You’re right. I just got this feeling that it’d be advantageous to have some experience in warfare.” said Aegon as they sat close to their horses while taking a break from their journey.

“You realise that you’ll bring undue scrutiny from other Free Cities for forming a sellsword company.” Reginald said as he cleaned his sweaty face with water.

“It is inevitable no matter what I do.” Aegon shrugged. “They won’t ignore two dragons and their riders no matter what. It is better this way. They should think we can be bought with coin instead of manipulating us or sending hired knives to do their bidding.”

Reginald still didn’t like it one bit. But his duty was never to question his prince but to obey. He was blessed, however, to have the freedom to advise the prince, and he had done that task admirably in his mind.

For that, he was grateful.

“I still don’t know why these fire-worshippers have their temple all the way out here. They have one inside the walls of Pentos.” Reginald muttered, glaring at the Red Priests strutting around in their ungodly red garbs.

He hated these foreigners, especially their penchant for trying to smother Princess Gael with their oily compliments and ridiculous traditions.

“The Flatlands are fertile land where the magisters hold acres of farmlands. They have rich vineyards and other plantations in these lands. The Pentoshi have kept their farmlands safe by giving expensive gifts to Dothraki Khalassar.”

“Why don’t they continue the practice then?” Reginald asked.

“The Dothraki horselords are hostile to the Red Priests. Lately, those gifts have also become too expensive for the Pentoshi to afford.”

“I can see why those horselords dislike the Red Priests.” Reginald muttered with a cross look. “I don’t like them mingling with the princess.”

“Gael has never known anything outside of the Red Keep except for Dragonstone. The Queen made sure she never got exposed to the world. Gael is seeing all of this for the first time, and she is naturally curious about everything and everyone in the absence of the queen’s towering shadow.” said Aegon with a pinched look as he looked at his wife, mingling with the Red Priests.

“Maybe we should think of asking for some ladies of noble birth from Westeros to serve as companions to the princess. Or better yet, we should seek a septa from the Starry Sept. I’m sure the Faith would be honoured to send…”

“No!” Aegon said immediately, making Reginald widen his eyes in surprise.

“But my prince, the Faith…” Reginald started, but the prince cut him off again with a firm look.

“Are you out of your mind, Ser? I’m not an idiot to call a septa from the Starry Sept to Pentos where slavery is practised.” Aegon said with a scoff. “I have no interest in starting a religious conflict in Pentos.”

“Surely you exaggerate, my prince. One septa wouldn’t cause religious turmoil in Pentos.” said Reginald.

“Maybe not.” Aegon admitted, “But I’m not interested in taking such a risk. The chances of creating unnecessary enemies are high.”

Reginald let the matter drop for the moment. However, he noticed Prince Aegon was not opposed to finding a lady companion for Princess Gael from one of the loyal houses of Westeros. He made a note in his mind to breach the subject once more with the prince.

‘Perhaps some of the Narrow Sea lords could send women from their families to accompany the princess. Or better yet, I could ask Roger to send one of our own to Pentos.’ Reginald mused.

But that was in the distant future. He still held out hope that King Jaehaerys would set things right and invite Prince Aegon and Princess Gael back to King’s Landing. The sweltering heat of Pentos did not agree with him and pined after the sweet, frigid air of Westeros.

But he was digressing. There were other important matters that needed his attention.

“My prince, may I send some scouts ahead to search the land ahead. If the Red Priests are to be trusted, a small Khalassar under Khal Fharyar has been seen prowling these lands and terrorising nearby villages. Perhaps we should...”

“There is no need. I had sent scouts ahead long before we started the journey from Pentos.” Aegon said, making Reginald’s eyes widen in surprise.

“But... my prince. All our men are accounted for.” Reginald said with a confused look.

He had personally counted the numbers before departing from Pentos. There was no way any scouts could be sent without his knowledge.

“As a matter of fact, my scouts have just returned.”

Reginald could only frown more at his prince as his charge was not making much sense.

“My prince? I do not understand.” Reginald said, utterly confused, as he could see no scouts arriving at their camp.

It was a pretty simple affair to see if any riders arrived at their camp. After all, their camp was temporary, and they were taking a break to nourish themselves with water from a nearby pond.  

Suddenly, Reginald froze partially in fright as his prince held out his hand to the grass on the ground and a green-scaled snake slithered into the prince’s hand. The snake was thin, the size of a finger and as long as an arm. His hand fell on the dagger holstered by his waist to strike at the snake.

“Don’t take that dagger, Ser. This one is friendly.” Prince Aegon said with a pointed look.

Reginald eyed his prince and then the snake. He let out a shaky breath he was holding and released the hold on the dagger’s hilt. He was then witness to a bizarre event where Prince Aegon was hissing at the snake, and the snake was hissing back.

He stared between the snake and the prince with a befuddled look as they hissed back and forth. At some point, they stopped, and the prince lowered his arm to the ground so the snake could slither away into the grass. It was surreal to witness the whole event, and Reginald struggled to comprehend what just happened before his eyes.

“Khal Fharyar is on the move. Have the men prepared to march out.”  Prince Aegon ordered.

“My prince, I don’t understand…” Reginald eyed his prince with his mouth agape.

“I can hold fire in the palm of my hands and ride the fiercest creature in the world. You are surprised I can now talk to a snake?” Prince Aegon asked with an amused grin.

“Well…” Reginald rubbed the back of his head with a confused look. “…when you say it like that… I suppose…”

“Keep this between ourselves for the moment. I haven’t told anyone else.”

“Of course, my prince.” Reginald readily nodded

Reginald shook his head at the strange skills of his prince. The Queen used to say Prince Aegon was gifted. He used to think the queen was exaggerating a little bit, but as of the past few months, he was starting to see the truth of the matter.

‘The gods have certainly blessed Prince Aegon.’ Reginald thought as he joined the prince to prepare the men for a long march.

He was quick to gather all eight hundred men with the sixteen officers in their fledgling sellsword company. Eight hundred men were not a number enough to bring the fear of the gods into the minds of their enemies. Reginald knew this, but then again, he didn’t want the Dothraki barbarians to fear the men under his command. For that, there was the nimble Dreamfyre and the colossal Fiendfyre.

He arranged the men in neat eight columns in preparation for their march. When they finally had a sense of order to his satisfaction, he turned his horse so that he was facing the company of men.

“We ride east as fast as possible, and it’s our hope that we’ll catch the Dothraki by surprise on their back. But we won’t be attacking them headfirst, and we’ll not be revealing our position to the Khalassar. We scour for any scouts and eliminate them along the way.” Reginald ordered.

The men smacked their spears and swords against their shields, acknowledging the order.  

“Leave the Khalassar to Prince Aegon.” Reginald nodded at the prince, who mounted his dragon.

“Fire and Blood!” Prince Aegon shouted with his fist raised.

“Fire and Blood!” Reginald shouted with the men as they raised the purple three-headed dragon standard.

Reginald nodded at Jon Tarth, who was standing beside Princess Gael. Princess Gael and her dragon stayed with the procession, and Jon Tarth remained behind to guard the princess.

“Do not leave her side.” Reginald ordered before he broke away from the procession.

“You have my word, Ser.” said Jon.

He nodded at the Tarth boy one last time before turning his horse towards their destination. Prince Aegon’s dragon took to the sky with a couple of mighty flaps of its wings. It was now time to test the mettle of the Dragonshields on the battlefield.

*****

Harmenen Makaero stared grimly into the distance as his servants ran around in his manse in utter chaos. Usually, he’d have taken the whip and taught his slaves some discipline, but this was one of those times where the whip would do harm to him more than to the slaves. After all, he wanted his servants and slaves to ensure his manse remained unbreachable, for there was a barbarian horde riding towards them in the distance.

He drained the last drops of wine from his cup and held it out to the servant standing behind him.

“More.” Harmenen demanded.

As the servant refilled his cup, his eyes remained pinned on the Dothraki horde riding straight for his estate in the distance. His modest estate in the Flatlands supplied tons of wheat, onion, potatoes, spices and many other edible fruits and vegetables. Right now, all of that was in jeopardy because of the barbarian horde riding towards his estate with the intent to burn, rape and kill.

“Dothraki scum.” Harmemen muttered with a scowl.

It was not just his farm that would get affected. The slaves he had on his estate would also be affected by the coming raid. The Dothraki killed those they liked, took the women they wanted to fuck and took the children as slaves in their Khalassar. Once the raid was over, he’d be left with burnt farmland and short of hundreds of slaves. He’d be forced to buy a new batch of slaves from the city and train them in the art of farming. That was going to be expensive and time-consuming.

He couldn’t help but curse his father for leaving him with this piece of land as his inheritance instead of the lands close to the city, which now rests in his brother’s hands.

“Master, your wine.” A servant held out the refilled cup.

“The Red Priests told me that there was a bountiful harvest this year. They told me the Red God would bring great wealth and prestige to my lands. Is this what wealth and prestige look like?” Harmenen muttered darkly.

The Dothraki horses came upon his lands with thundering hooves. Their warriors screamed and hollered atop their horses, signalling the arrival of the Khalassar and their intent to pillage the lands to their heart’s content. Then suddenly, Harmenen stood witness to a strange sight. The Dothraki horses stopped at the edge of his estate while his slaves working in the fields ran for cover in all directions.

His experience with the past Dothraki raids was slightly different. The Flatlands had never tried to resist the Dothraki hordes in his living memory. The Dothraki had always raped, burned and pillaged the lands without any inhibition. The Dothraki riders made sport of killing the fleeing slave workers in the farmlands, and he was forced to pick up the remains when the barbarian horde went away after their fun.

But for the first time, he stood witness to the Dothraki horde stopping at the edge of his wheat fields.

“Why did they stop?” Harmenen asked in confusion.

“Master, look!” his servant shouted, pointing westward.

Harmenen squinted his eyes and looked to the south. His eyes widened at what he saw, and not a moment later, he heard the roar of the colossal dragon.

His mouth dropped open, and he looked on in disbelief as a colossal black dragon swept into his lands from the sky and set the Dothraki horde ablaze. A tall plume of purple flames consumed the lines of the Dothraki Khalassar in the blink of an eye. The distant rumbling sound of the Dothraki horses was now replaced by the cries and screams of the barbarian horde as dragonfire swept them away.

Slowly, a wide smile started to stretch on his face as the massive black dragon circled around and breathed another long line of flames on the barbarians, turning them into ash. A shiver passed through him at the sight but his excitement was palpable.

‘This is the natural order of things. Dragons at the very top and the dragons’ daughters thriving under their watchful gaze.’ Harmenen thought with self-assured satisfaction.

“So, the rumours were true. The city now hosts a Targaryen prince.” Harmenen muttered, the corners of his mouth stretching into a growing smile.

“More wine.” he shouted, this time with a massive grin. “It seems we have cause for a celebration.”

He sat back on a couch and watched the demise of the savages that plagued his lands. Their terrified screams drowned out all the rest and he intend to enjoy the spectacular view of as long as it lasted.  

*****

Aegon felt the thrill of battle, but more than that, he felt like he was the wheel of fate looking down upon the broken mortals. The power that he felt upon his dragon as he brought fire and blood upon his enemies gave him a rush that set his blood aflame. He could feel his blood thrum in his veins. It felt like wings were about to sprout from his shoulders and he could fly away.

The rush of emotions was such whenever Fiendfyre made a pass over the Dothraki and breathed fire, he let out a whoop of joy.  

It was like becoming the personification of death. He didn’t know whether this was why his namesake thought to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. But he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. The feeling of invulnerability was quite strong within him.

Aegon tugged sharply at the ropes tied to the huge left horn on Fiendfyre’s head. The black dragon let out a low growl and banked sharply to the left.

“Dive.”

He felt the weight of the sky as the force bearing down on his body while Fiendfyre went on a steep dive. The air whistled past his ears, his eyes stung, and he could feel a thrum of power emanating from the great beast of death and destruction he rode.

In that one moment, he felt like he understood Fiendfyre. It was like he felt their hearts become one and beat as one.

He was also quite thankful for the Dothraki raiders to line themselves neatly on the ground. It made his work easier.

The barbarians gathered together and released their arrows from horseback. Unfortunately for them, their inexperience in fighting against dragons made them think their arrows could harm Fiendfyre.

They learned the hard way that arrows were useless against dragons. Their pitiful arrows simply broke on contact with the thick scales of Fiendfyre.

“Dracarys.” Aegon shouted while pulling on the left and right horns using ropes.

Fiendfyre stretched his wings and gathered all the air in his wing membranes. Aegon braced for the whiplash that came while holding onto the harness. Fiendfyre opened his maw wide and breathed the simmering hot purple flames into the Dothraki horde.

Screams rose to a new pitch as the Dothraki barbarians were instantly turned into ashes while those who survived scatters in all directions to save themselves from a fiery death.

He gave no respite to his enemies, just like they showed no mercy to the villages of the land.

As Fiendfyre stopped breathing fire, he made his mount circle back and set the fleeing horselords aflame once more. The green grasslands were set aflame in dark purple dragon fire. The Dothraki screams filled the sky as they died in the flames or just died from inhaling too much smoke.

“These grasslands are no longer yours to do as you wish. I am here, and you’ll burn or kneel.” Aegon whispered.

The winds took his words while carrying the ashes of the Dothraki Khalassar. In the distance, he saw his sellsword army riding into the storm of battle against the survivors. He circled the sky and observed as his sellsword army rode down the fleeing Dothraki, felling them with arrows and spears.  

Chapter Text

The streets were layered with flowers in the Flatlands as they rejoiced in the culling of the Dothraki horde. The celebration was such that even colourful spice powders were layering the streets, and the people were in jubilation over their victory. The Magisters, landowners, merchants and slaves all rejoiced as one as the Dothraki prisoners were marched through the streets, their arms and legs chained and no weapon or horses on their person.

Personally, Reginald felt no great sense of victory over the defeat of the Dothraki horde.

The moment his prince took the field on his dragon, the outcome of the conflict was sealed in their favour. The sheer might of a dragonrider was intractable. No barbarian horde could withstand such power.

It was a simple truth: no army could fight a dragon and emerge victorious!

'Unless it was those damned Dornishmen.' Reginald quickly reminded himself.

He led the men of the Dragonshields along the paved streets of the settlement proudly in their pristine armour, carrying the fluttering amethyst dragon banner.

He doubted the men carrying his prince's banner had any loyalty to the prince. These were not honourable men holding chivalry in their hearts with a cause and a leader to fight for. These warriors were the sons of Essos. Their loyalty remained to silver and gold. Their words meant nothing, and their worth was even less in his eyes than a Dornishman.

But still, there were a promising few amongst these unruly men he hoped to forge into worthy warriors for his prince. The few sellswords that joined his prince's company were from the northern Andalos. Their faith in the Seven was queer, probably due to the undue influence of other Essosi religions and centuries of invasions. But they came when his prince called for warriors to him, and in time, Reginald hoped to impart some values of a knight to those men.

It'd be a mighty effort to train some of these Essosi sinners into the path of knights, but he hoped he could do the good work. The Seven would undoubtedly favour such a task.

'If only I had some septons to bring these mongrels back to the light of the Seven.' Reginald thought with a disappointing sigh.

There was one Sept in the harbour of Pentos where Westerosi traders and sailors prayed. But there were no septons or septas. Pentos remains a slave city, and the teachings of the Seven were incompatible with a slave-trading society.

But he was not so optimistic about these men even with a good septon.

Reginald cast his eyes at the people throwing the flowers as they passed while escorting the Dothraki the prisoners. He doubted at least ten free men or women were in the crowd. Most of them were most likely slaves.

It was hard for chivalrous men to thrive in a place like this.

'Essos is a place bereft of grace and decency.' Reginald thought grimly.

But still, he had to try for the sake of his prince and princess.

The crowd collectively clapped and chanted in jubilation as Princess Gael flew past over their heads on Dreamfyre. The gleaming blue scales of the she-dragon cast a visual treat for them all as it looked like a blue gem in the twilight sky.

His eyes once again fell on the bound prisoners from the Dothraki Khalasar. Most of them were women and children because few warriors survived the assault of Prince Aegon and the subsequent battle that followed with his men.

Reginald wouldn't even call it a battle, as it was a one-sided slaughter. The Dothraki were burnt by dragonfire, disoriented, fleeing in all directions and scared out of their wits. All his men had to do was throw their spears at the fleeing backs of the Dothraki barbarians and cut down the stranded few who lost their horses.

It was a bloodbath. He had seen the bandits of Westeros put up a better fight than these barbarians. It also helped these fools abhor any body armour, which made it easy for his men to cut them down.

Nonetheless, it was a resounding victory, and he was confident in his prince's plans for expanding the Dragonshields.

Reginald smiled as the princess made a few rounds around them on her dragon before landing near a field.

"Ser Jon. Take the Dragonkeepers with you and provide an armed escort for the princess." Reginald ordered.

"Yes, sir." Ser Jon said before galloping away on his horse with a small retinue of men.

Reginald watched the knight from the Sapphire Isle ride away. Jon Tarth was a young knight barely two namesdays older than Prince Aegon. The Sapphire Knight, as some had taken to call the Tarth boy, had ulterior motives for travelling with Prince Aegon.

However, those motives were entirely justifiable. The Sapphire Knight wanted to liberate his older sister from Lys's vile clutches. No doubt it was a noble quest but one that'd lead his prince to untold danger.

It was one of the reasons why he kept a close eye on Ser Jon despite finding the young man to be a good friend to his prince. To make matters worse, Ser Jon tended to have wandering eyes when it came to women, just like any man his age. Such weaknesses were intolerable in a place like this, where threats were aplenty.

Reginald felt the gods should've given him a hundred eyes and more to keep his promise to Queen Alysanne. As days went by, the threats surrounding Prince Aegon and Princess Gael only increased. It could be an alarmist Magister to a disgruntled cobbler on the street who could become a threat to the prince and princess.

It was his fervent hope that the King would ask the Prince and Princess to return to the Seven Kingdoms. It'd certainly make his job of protecting them easier.

"Please wait! Please wait, Ser!"

Reginald kept a tight hold on the reins of his horse as a man suddenly jumped into the street before him. He'd have ordered the men to remove this miscreant, but Reginald saw the man dressed in a shabby grey robe and showing off a seven-pointed star medallion on his neck.

"Ser, please. I have travelled from the hills of Hugor for an audience with Prince Aegon of the promised kingdom. We, the faithful, are in danger, and the Seven willing the defenders of the Faith must save us."

Reginald frowned thoughtfully as the man was manhandled away by the guards who were keeping order in the streets.

"Wait!" Reginald ordered, "Leave him be."

The guards let the man go, and the man came before him once again with a grateful look.

"You are a man of the Faith from the hills of Andalos?" Reginald asked curiously.

"Aye, Ser. I'm Alrec. I serve as a septon in the northern hills. I've come here to gain an audience with the prince and request his aid in the protection of a few villages in the hills."

Reginald didn't say anything for a moment as he was lost in thought.

'A septon from the northern hills of Andalos. Either this man is a disguised assassin or a genuine septon.' Reginald thought.

He supposed he could search the man thoroughly and question at his leisure. But if the man was a septon, it would solve many of their problems. The septon could become a proper shield against the Red Priests and their heretic ways corrupting the princess.

"Come with me. I must know some things before I request the prince to grant you an audience." Reginald said finally while rejoicing internally at this good sign from the Seven.

Clearly, his prayers were being heard by the ever-merciful Mother!

******

Reginald found the Essosi not much different from the Westerosi when it came to ceremonies. They were long, rowdy and loud as events progressed. The merchants and Magisters living in the Flatlands were quite grateful to Prince Aegon for his timely arrival. Their appreciation was shown by a flow of gifts into their waning treasury. Silver and gold came aplenty, as did precious gems, which made his job a tad difficult as he had to oversee the timely accounting of the gifts and watch over the Prince's safety.

It was not an easy job, but he managed it somehow.

Keeping stock of the shiny metals and gems was one thing, but some gifts were far more bulky and opulent. Magister Ehymhall gifted the prince a gold-plated chandelier. A wealthy spice merchant gave his prince a book with a silver hardcover with the ludicrous claim that the book came from Valyria. A jewellery merchant gifted the prince a warhorn studded with the finest sapphires. A finely crafted silver necklace with emerald gems was gifted to Princess Gael. Fine Myrish silk dresses, gold sceptres and other artful jewels were gifted to the prince and Princess by the wealthiest Pentoshi of the Flatlands. Casks of the most expensive Pentoshi wine were also gifted, but he immediately tested them with tasters for any traces of poison.

One Magister even offered a villa in the Flatlands and the surrounding lands for Prince Aegon to use as he saw fit. These were generous gifts indeed.

But these people were not merely just grateful to have survived a Dothraki attack.

No. There was an ulterior motive behind all of it. Reginald saw it leagues away despite all the simpering and hospitality given by the Pentoshi.

In the night, when the fires were running less bright, the Magisters and merchants came forward with what they wanted. It had taken them long enough, but Reginald was not so surprised to hear that the Pentoshi wanted the prince's help to remove the Dothraki from their lands.

It was not a controversial opinion to have. The Dothraki were the scourge of civilisation. They had proven to be as such repeatedly after they set fire to almost all urban settlements east of the Rhoyne. While he was no Essossi, he still knew how the ancient kingdom of Saranor and its tributaries fell to the barbarian Dothraki hordes after the Doom of Valyria. The tales of butchery and savagery of the Dothraki had even reached the shores of Westeros. Bards sang songs of rivers of blood flowing into the Shivering Sea from the former kingdom of Saranor.

The Magisters and merchants left after making their case before the prince. It was only the prince and princess in a solar of the manse offered by Magister Gherius.

"What do you think about this proposal, Ser?" Prince Aegon asked, his lone amethyst eye glowing eerily in the night while the fire in the fireplace cast dark shadows in the room.

"It's tall task to battle the Dothraki, my prince. I'd consider purging the savages a sacred work in service of the Seven, but…" Reginald trailed off with a grimace.

"We don't have the numbers and resources to proceed with such a conflict." said the prince.

"I'm afraid so, my prince." Reginald said.

It was the reality before them. They barely had three thousand fighting, most of whom were only loyal to the coin. The Dothraki were not an organised fighting army. They were nomadic savages who killed for pleasure. The Dothraki honoured no rules of combat. They attacked people indiscriminately, whether they were unarmed commoners or armed combatants.

"The High Priestess Yelena has promised the faithful servants of the Red God would answer the call to arms should you ask for it." Princess Gael piqued up with a charming smile, bringing cold dread into Reginald's heart.

"I have told you not to consort yourself with that woman. Do I need to take action instead of trusting you to behave, Gael?" Aegon asked firmly, pinning his wife with a glare.

"Yelena is…" Princess Gael started but was immediately cut off by an exasperated Aegon.

"… not a friend of our family, and she has ulterior motives." Aegon glared at his wife, making her scowl, "How many times must I tell you this?"

"It's clear that my opinions do not matter here, husband." Gael rose to her feet with grace.

"You may dislike the Red Priests, but they can raise you an army of fierce warriors loyal to us. They worship fire, and dragons have the most potent fire in the world. You who can overcome even dragonfire is a god to these people." Gael added before hastily making her exit with palpable anger.

"She is incorrigible. Once she sets her mind on something, it is difficult to dissuade her from it. I blame my grandmother for sheltering her for all these years." Aegon said heatedly with a glare at the doorway.

"The Princess seeks friends, my prince." Reginald said calmly.

"I am her friend." said Aegon.

"You're her husband." Reginald reminded his liege.

Reginald watched Aegon calm down after a moment.

"Gael might be obsessed with that infernal priestess, but she is not wrong. I could gather a larger following if I were to take her counsel." Aegon said, frowning thoughtfully into the Red Temple in the distance from out of the window.

Even from this distance, Reginald could see the red stones of the temple gleaming under the huge pyre built by the Red Priests for their queer festival. He didn't know what those heretics were doing but wanted no part in it. He also wanted his prince and princess far away from their vile clutches as well.

"I may have a solution for that, my prince. But we might need to travel further north." said Reginald.

"Explain." Aegon ordered and he presented the case of Septon Alrec of the Northern Hills without fail.

*****

Aegon stared keenly at Septon Alrec. It was the first time he met with a Septon from Andalos in person. All the other servants of the Seven were Westerosi. Foreign followers of the Faith were scarce, especially one from Andalos.

The old homeland of the Andals was lost to the Andals after they crossed the Narrow Sea to settle in Westeros. Most of the old Andals could be seen in the Vale of Arryn, while the rest of the Seven Kingdoms were mainly populated with converted First Men.

"Your grace." Septon Alrec fell to his knees and bowed with his forehead touching the floor.

Aegon raised an eyebrow as he looked at Ser Reginald in surprise at the strange reaction from the Septon. Ser Reginald opened his mouth but struggled to say anything and shrugged helplessly.

Aegon could only shake his head. He supposed the traditions of Andalos were slightly different than the Andals of Westeros. It was only natural to have huge differences after almost two thousand years of separation.

"Please rise." said Aegon.

Septon Alrec was thin, dangerously so that he suspected the man was fasting unto death. The man had brown hair and hazel eyes. Dark shadows ran under his eyes, and his cheekbones were clearly visible as the skin hugged closely to his face. The man also had darker skin like the Dornish, which made Aegon stay alert for any subterfuge. He wouldn't be surprised if the Dornish would take up the robes of a Septon to assassinate a Targaryen, especially him.

"Thank you, your grace."

"I'm not the King of Westeros. My grandfather sits on the Iron throne. I am merely a prince of the Seven Kingdoms." said Aegon.

"Forgive me, my prince. I did not know how to address you."

"It's alright." Aegon waved his hand dismissively while leaning forward in his seat, "I must say it is the first time I came across a septon from Andalos. I have often heard of tales of Andalos from Septon Barth, my former teacher in the matters of Seven."

"There are fewer septons in Andalos, my prince. I'd be surprised if you had come across one of us in your travels." Septon Alrec said with a grimace.

"I take it the Andals are not fairing well in their homeland." Said Aegon.

"We're being purged, my prince." Septon Alrec said, a lone tear falling from his eyes as he fell on his knees once more with a look of anguish, "The women are taken as slaves by the bandits and the Dothraki. The sellswords robe our people until we starve to death. The fairest of children are taken as bed slaves by slavers to be sold in the slave markets."

"Our septs are set on fire or pulled brick by brick by miscreants. Our people are sacrificed in fire to sate the hunger of demonic gods." Septon Alrec now sported a look of utter despair and horror, with his lips quivering as he explained the atrocities visited upon his people.

"The Warrior has forsaken us, my prince. No knights have been born in the Land of Hugor in the last thousand years. We are a fallen people, my prince, and you are our only salvation."

Aegon raised both his eyebrows at the particular declaration.

"You are! You are a prince of the Promised Land. Your family has united the Seven Kingdoms. Clearly, the Seven favour House Targaryen. Your presence will unite the people of Andalos, and you can lead us to salvation." Septon Alrec said desperately, with hope shining in his sunken eyes.

Aegon chanced a look at Ser Reginald, and the man nodded succinctly. 

Aegon took a deep breath before he addressed Septon Alrec.

"You must know that my father exiled me from Westeros. It's possible that I might never return to my homeland." said Aegon truthfully, as he had no intention of taking advantage of a broken people by giving them false hope, "But… if what you say is true and you truly need a leader to help guide your people… I can try. I cannot promise you anything because I myself do not know what the future holds. The gods are ever mysterious in the matters of the fate of us mortals."

"That is all I ask, my prince. Your mere presence will bring stability to our lands. The Seven have brought you to these shores for our salvation. I can feel it, and soon, my people will learn this truth and unite under you." Septon Alrec bowed with his forehead touching the stone floor.

*****

Aegon watched the septon get escorted out of his solar and shook his head. He put his face in his palms and thought of the radical tangent his life was experiencing.

He had come into exile in a foreign land, built himself a sellsword company, and now he was planning on a religious upheaval in the hopes that it could attract more men to his side, all based on a silly dream. Ever since he was blessed with the sacred fire of Galeithox he had been dreaming of a distant island filled with blood and stone. His dreams were filled with a broken old stronghold surrounded by a deep forest.

So far, he had no idea how to find the mysterious land and the means to do so was denied to him after his exile from Dragonstone.

But that was no longer so.

Aegon eyed the Valyrian glass candle a jewellery merchant gifted him. He doubted the man knew the true value of a Valyrian glass candle. Or perhaps the man didn't even realise it was a Valyrian glass candle because it was painted with gold, unlike others of its kind, which were made with dragonglass. But one look at it and Aegon knew it was a Valyrian glass candle. His magic had been singing all day beneath his skin ever since he saw the candle.

Aegon placed his palms hovering around the glass candle and summoned the sacred fire of Gaelithox. The candle had already lit up with a yellow flame, taking a sliver of his magic. But that flame changed into white fire as Gaelithox's blessing consumed the glass candle.

His eyes gained far greater clarity as visions after visions flittered past.

"Show me, Andalos."

The Valyrian command controlled the chaos and directed his sight upon the desolate land of the Andals. His mismatched eyes glowed white as he reached across mountains and grasslands to see the truth with his own eyes. His scrying revealed the true nature of the land in far greater quality than the words of a septon.

He traced every settlement, road, bandit camp, the moving Dothraki Khalasars and the people who took refuge in the tall mountains of Andalos. He saw families sacrificing their daughters to the flames to satiate the hunger of the Red God. He saw genital mutilation, live burials, suicides and murders, all in the name of gods, greed and power.

In the stark darkness that consumed the land of Andals, he could only see small specks of light in these people. There were mothers hiding their children away from such horrors and fathers going on empty stomachs to feed families.

Aegon pulled back from the wide array of visions and sat back in his chair, sweating and out of breath.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and secured the glass candle in a cabinet before leaving his solar to get some sleep.

When he reached his bedroom, he was surprised that Gael was nowhere to be seen, and the mattress on the bed was also absent. There was only one pillow and a blanket on the large oak bed.

He was about to call for a servant to inquire about Gael's whereabouts when he noticed the doors to the balcony being ajar through a reflection in the mirror. He went to the adjacent drawing room of his chambers and found the door slightly ajar, with the curtains blowing inwards due to the wind.

When he went to close the doors, he found his stolen mattress, which was occupied by his missing wife. He could see her silver hair spanning the pillow even though the rest of her body were safely tucked under a black woollen comforter. The frustration that had built up within him bled away when he found his wife in such a state. 

He wondered for a brief moment whether this was how his grandfather felt when he quarrelled with his queenly wife.

"A lovely dragon lies beneath a starry night,

Her hair as bright silver as any shining star,

All the stars in the sky cried in shame,

The lovely Gael so brilliant as the first light."

He sang melodically in High Valyrian, earning himself a brief peek from a pair of amethyst eyes beneath the black silk sheet.

Aegon walked forward and sat on the side of the mattress, which made Gael turn away from him.

"I suppose I could sleep here." he said candidly.

"No. Go away." Gael snapped.

"How can I abandon my beautiful wife to the stars? They might steal you away thinking you're one of their own." said Aegon, slipping into the bed and wrapping an arm around Gael.

"Don't be coy with me. You think I am simple-minded like everyone." she sniffled.

'Not simple but ignorant to the dangers of this world.' Aegon thought, but he didn't say it aloud lest he attract the ire of his dragon princess. 

"I don't think that. I think you are sweet, lovely, beautiful, brave…"

"No, you don't! Else, why would you belittle me and deny my friendship with Yelena." Gael shouted as she sat up and pushed his arm away.

"I denied your friendship with Yelena because of what she is. She is no friend to you or me. She's a priestess of the Red Faith sworn to spread the religion. If she is being friends with you, it is to convert you to her faith." Aegon patiently explained for the umpteenth time.

 "You can't know that! She is my only friend." Gael sniffled, her eyes watering as she stared into his own eyes.

"Am I not your friend?" asked Aegon, holding her cheek tenderly in the palm of his right hand.

A pair of tear drops fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

Aegon swiped them away with his thumbs as he took both of her cheeks in his palms.

"I abandoned my home and crossed the Narrow Sea to be with you." said Aegon.

"Only because my mother forced you." said Gael with a sob.

"Is that what you think?" Aegon chuckled as he shook his head, "Do you think anyone can force me to do what I don't want to do?"

"I could've just as easily left Dragonstone without marrying you. If I had done so, I'd be leaving behind my heart, which has always been yours."

Aegon took her hand and placed it on his heart.

"In this life and the next, you're my friend, lover and wife."

"Oh, Aegon!" Gael gasped with a heartfelt smile.

She threw her arms around Aegon and rested her head against his heart.

Aegon couldn't help but smile as she nuzzled into him. They spent the rest of the night beneath the stars, and for one moment, he believed his own words made in haste. When he looked up, he felt like the stars were indeed jealous.

Chapter Text

Khal Qerrmo grinned maliciously as his bloodriders chased after the women folk fleeing the village. The Andals were weak cowards in his eyes. They never had the guts to stay and fight. Instead, they scrambled to run away at the sound of his Khalasar's hooves. Most importantly, the few Andal warriors who had the guts to take a weapon into their hands did so by wearing steel armour like the cowards they were.

Those who had no strength to protect their women did not deserve to hold on to their women. It was the way of the Khals before him, and he followed the same as he had hoped to become the greatest Khal of all in the world.

"My Khal!"

Qerrmo frowned as he turned his head, hearing the familiar sound of one of his bloodriders.

"Guan. You have word for me from the south." said Qerrmo, frowning at his subordinate.

"I do, my Khal. An army approaches from the south."

"An army?" Qerrmo's frown only deepened.

He had been hearing strange tales from the south. Some no-name Andal prince from across the poisoned waters had sent proclamations of a challenge to all Khals raiding the land of Andals. He considered such a nuisance little more than pests. Their threats were unimportant to a Khal, but such insolence could not be tolerated.

"These Andals – they are marching towards us?" Qerrmo asked curiously.

He was a bit surprised these Andals somehow came across courage all of a sudden. Very rarely did Andals put up a fight. Usually, they ran away in the opposite direction from the sound of his horses' hooves.

"Yes, my Khal."

Qerrmo noticed his bloodrider looking hesitant.

"What is it, Guan?" he asked impatiently.

"My Khal, this Andal comes from across the poisoned waters. They say he is a prince who rides a flying beast born from the night. They say he set the beast on Khal Moro and destroyed his Khalassar." Guan said hesitantly.

"Ha!" Yoer snorted and started laughing so hard. "An Andal destroying Khal Moro's host? These Andals seem to be spreading weak lies to scare us."

Qerrmo agreed with his bloodrider. Andals were weak fools who worshipped weak stone gods. He had destroyed many of their villages and little wooden septs to know Andals were weaklings, and this supposed army was nothing more than a rabble of weak men who'd run at the first taste of battle.

Even if that was the case, his pride as a Khal would not allow him to leave these Andals to spread lies about a fellow Khal.

Qerrmo turned his focus on Guan.

"You know this Andal army. Where do they come from?" Qerrmo asked curiously.

"From the Flatlands, my Khal."

"The Flatlands. Those fat Pentoshi swine might be involved." said Yoer with a sneer.

Qerrmo had to agree. The Pentoshi were no better than these Andals. He suspected most of those lots were Andals at some point in the past. Those cowardly city dwellers had not invited the wrath of Dothraki Khalassar so far by giving proper respect and tribute to the great Khals of the past.

"We shall visit the fat merchants of Pentos." said Qerrmo, a manic glint entering his dark eyes, "We'll wring the truth from their tongue."

His bloodriders shouted out their approval and raised their arakhs high at the prospect of attacking Pentos.

However, their shouts were drowned out by a beastly roar that brought an unholy fear into their hearts.

Qerrmo and his bloodriders watched with wide eyes as a blue beast with silver wings swooped down from the sky and set the horsemen chasing the villagers ablaze. The bright blue flames swallowed an entire swarm of his finest warriors and horses, making Qerrmo feel something he thought he had discarded long ago – fear!

Another terrifying roar thundered across the land, making Qerrmo turn abruptly on his horse and stare at another colossal dragon swooping in from the south. It was a large black beast, much larger than the blue beast, wreaking havoc on his Khalasar.

"Bring that beast down!" Qerrmo shouted, but his words were drowned by the screams of his people.

The black dragon unleashed its dark purple flames on a row of his finest warriors.

A great gust of wind nearly knocked Qerrmo off his horse as the black dragon passed over his head. With a mighty flap of its wings, the beast climbed swiftly into the sky, leaving nothing but ashes and blackened ground in its wake.

"The archers! Bring me your bows!" Qerrmo rallied his men while he sent out his bloodriders to help lead his great Khalasar to combat the fire-spitting beasts.

Another jet of blue flames burned through his men, making Qerrmo angrily grit his teeth. His eyes burned with hatred as the blue dragon burned through his people again while he watched on helplessly.

"Those riders! Aim for those riders on the beasts!" Qerrmo ordered his archers.

The black dragon dived again to bring destruction and death to his people, but this time he was ready.

"On my command." Qerrmo shouted with his arakh raised in the air, waiting for the dragon to fly low.

When the black dragon finally lowered itself to the ground and opened its maw to breathe its infernal fire, Qerrmo gave the command to release the arrows. The strings of several bows snapping filled his ears, and he watched eagerly as arrows rained down on the colossal dragon.

But the results were not to Qerrmo's liking. The dragon shrugged off the arrows while the rider on its back remained untouched by the bows of his men. Qerrmo bellowed a roar of frustration as the dragon spat out another stream of fire that set his men ablaze. He watched with growing rage as the colossal dragon climbed to the clouds in quick order, leaving a large portion of his Khalasar burnt to death.

His eyes remained on the sky as did his bloodriders' but they didn't see the dragons again.

They waited a fair bit, looking for any sign of the fire-spitting beasts, and when they were sure the dragons were not coming, they moved to regroup. When the sun finally set on the horizon, Qerrmo was left with a broken Khalasar. Nearly a quarter of his fighting men were burnt to ashes, and almost half suffered wounds from the attack.

The most damaging of all were the horses they lost in the attack. More than half their horses were decimated, and quite a few had gone missing in the chaos of battle. He had sent riders to retrieve the horses that survived the assault, but the damage was most severe.

"Tell me, Yoer. Do you think we can fell those beasts if they come again?" he asked gruffly while staring at his battered camp filled with wounded Dothraki men.

"Not alone. Those beasts have come from beyond the poisoned waters. We will need the blessing of the Great Stallion and the support of other Khalasars."

"I fear you are right." Qerrmo said gruffly, "Send word to Vaes Dothrak. Seek the help of Dosh Khaleen and, through them, the other Khalasars. Warn them of the beasts and their riders."

"The messengers will never reach in time to help us. The Andal army marches as we speak." said Yoer.

"We fight to the last man." said Qerrmo confidently, "We take as many Andals with us to the Stallion with us. I'm sure the horse god will part the grass and allow our souls to join his starry Khalasar for our bravery."

"Perhaps we could challenge the weak Andal Prince to fight like a man with steel instead of hiding behind his beast." said Yoer with a wicked grin.

"Hmm. I doubt the Andal have the courage to do so, but you are right. When I kill the Andal Prince in battle, it'll be one less dragon to worry about. Maybe our Khalasar might triumph on our own against the beasts and the Andal army." Qerrmo said, staring thoughtfully into the distance.

**** 

Aegon poured over the maps strewn across the table before him. There were different maps of Andalos before him and all of them lacked in detail to start a campaign. Most of the villages in Andalos were constantly on the move because of continuous Dothraki raids.

The people of Andalos had no other choice but to keep moving after repeated attacks. It forced people to adopt a nomadic lifestyle to survive the Dothraki raiders and slavers. Fearing Dothraki raids, the Andals of Andalos were forced to live in the mountains and the woods. A lucky few managed to gain entry into Pentos and the Flatlands. But most of them served as slaves in the Free City.

It was a better fate than being the property of the Dothraki barbarians, according to some of the Andals he spoke to in the Flatlands. While slavery was indeed a horrendous sin, he could believe being a plaything in the hands of the barbarian horselords of the far east was far more intimidating for the people. This became abundantly clear when his Dragonshields liberated the slaves from the Dothraki camp in the Flatlands.

The women were treated as cattle to be bred and little more as pleasure slaves. The children served as slave labour and for the entertainment of the barbarians. The men were used as animals and made to fight against the highly trained horselords.

At least, in the Free Cities, there was a chance for those with enough skill to climb the social ladder and buy their freedom. The Dothraki were far worse in his eyes than the Magisters of Pentos. It was one of the reasons why he had no qualms with the merchants of the Flatlands taking 'ownership' of the Dothraki prisoners he took after the battle in the Flatlands.

While he liked to think he could do better with the prisoners, he didn't have the time or the resources to make it happen.

To be completely honest, he didn't even want to handle those mongrels simply because of the repercussions that'd follow.

Not everyone in Pentos was happy with his presence in the city. Their concerns had only increased when he formed the Dragonshields. He was keenly aware of the disgruntled voices and the fearmongers who whisper in the shadows, thinking their voices don't reach his ears. He had made some friends among the Magisters and merchant class in the city. They had kept him informed of the ongoing shifts in the political landscape, and in return, he gave them access to the spoils of war in the form of expanded land holdings.

"My prince."

Aegon looked up from the map laid out on the table to stare at the entrance of his tent. He looked at his wife, who was lounging on a chair beside the table with a chess board on a small round table.

Gael just shrugged and came to sit with him, abandoning the game for the moment.

"Come in." he said.

Jon came in with Ser Reginald, making Aegon frown.

"Is there something that matters?" Aegon asked, noticing a peculiar expression on both men's faces.

"There is a messenger from Khal Qerrmo." said Jon.

 "A messenger, you say?" Aegon asked incredulously.

He never expected the barbarian horselords to be civilised enough to have any thought other than just blind rage and other primal desires.

"Yes, my prince. Khal Qerrmo has sent a messenger with some terms." Jon said with a scowl.

"You don't look happy." Aegon noted his friend's discomfort.

"The messenger insists on speaking with the prince of poisoned waters." Jon said with a scowl but hastily added, "…his words, not mine."

"Maybe this horselord sees sense in surrendering rather than facing us in battle." Gael suggested.

"You give these barbarians too much credit, my love. Wanton death and destruction are in the blood of the Dothraki." said Aegon before he shook his head, "However, we'll not turn away a messenger. I would meet this man and hear what his master has to say."

Aegon and Gael, escorted by Ser Reginald and Ser Jon, made themselves comfortable in a larger tent where they greeted guests and petitioners. It was not much compared to the opulence of the Red Keep. They just had two chairs on a raised podium inside, with a lot of space before them for a small crowd of men to assemble within the tent. This was where the officers of the Dragonshields met, but for now, all other tables and chairs were absent.

Gael suddenly cracked up in laughter as the messenger was escorted into the tent.

"What're you doing?" Aegon whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"I can't help it. Just look at that… that… thing. I can't help but think he is perfect as a court fool. The man has bells on his hair like a clown!" Gael managed to mutter in between bouts of chuckles.

Aegon had to admit his lovely wife was onto something here. He had seen his fair share of Dothraki men with their ridiculous braids and bells, but this one looked like a clown. There were so many little bells hanging around the man's braids it made the Dothraki messenger look like a walking, talking, mean-looking clown. Then, add in those ridiculous tattoos supplanting the eyebrows, which made it all the more difficult for him not to outright laugh at the man's face.

The Dothraki warrior wore little to cover his abdomen besides a piece of cloth hanging from his neck and several chains with strange teeth hanging from threads tied to the links.

"I am Guan, son of Meuan, bloodrider to Khal Qerrmo. I come bearing the word of my Khal."

"You're in the presence of Aegon the Unburnt, rider of Fiendfyre, scion of House Targaryen and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms." said Ser Reginald, staring down at the unarmed Dothraki warrior, "If you've come to surrender, it's customary to kneel before our prince."

"I have not come to surrender." Guan said in a heavily accented common tongue.

"You may say what you have to say, bloodrider Guan." said Aegon to speed things along before egos clashed.

"My Khal asks you take your beasts and cross the poisoned waters of your own will. Stay longer in these lands, and you invite the ire of all Khalasars upon your head."

"I like the sound of that. You see, all your distinguished Khalasars are welcome to seek me out. It saves me the time to hunt you all down." Aegon said with an indulging smile.

He could see Guan was not amused by his comment. Aegon could see that by the way the Dothraki warrior narrowed his dark eyes at him.

"War can be waged and blood spilt on the grass in honour of the Great Stallion. But my Khal offers you the opportunity to show your bravery. Take steel into your own hands and face my Khal in battle – warrior to warrior."

Aegon leaned forward in his chair with an intrigued look at the proposition while his people squirmed uncomfortably at the challenge.

"I know my army can defeat you. I know my dragons can lay waste to your entire Khalasar. Why should I accept this challenge?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Why Andal prince? You afraid to face my Khal in a duel of strength and skill?" Guan asked, an insulting smile stretching his face.

"Why bloodrider? Are you afraid of your Khalasar getting wiped out if our armies meet on the battlefield?" Aegon asked with a raised eyebrow, unbothered by the goading, "If you are, then that's what is waiting for you. I'll bring fire and blood upon your Khal and his Khalasar. You'll be forgotten as I etch my name on the bones and ashes of your people. Unless…"

"Unless we make this proposed battle with proper terms." Aegon continued when he noticed the interest in the bloodrider's eyes.

Aegon could feel the warning gaze of Ser Reginald, but he was determined to see this through and see if it avoided bloodshed.

"What terms?" Guan asked after a pregnant pause.

"Should I win against Khal Qerrmo, his Khalsar is mine to command. Should he win, he may take possession of my army. My wife or I shall never bother him or his Khalasar ever again." Aegon offered generously, "I believe these terms are generous."

"We shall see. I shall convey your terms to my Khal." said Guan, nodding his head jerkily.

He watched in silence as the bloodrider was escorted out of his tent.

"That was poorly done, my prince. The Dothraki are barbarians. They won't honour their word, and you have taken a grave risk for no reason." Ser Reginald said with a disappointed sigh.

"I must agree with Ser Reginald, my prince. Though I pray the Warrior blesses your steel, losing the duel means you forfeit your life and your army. If the roles were reversed, your enemy would not show you any mercy or provide you with such generous terms." Septon Alrec said with worry clearly shown on his gaunt face.

"The Dothraki think they are warriors of great skill because they burned a few villages and killed a bunch of untrained farmers. We shall see soon enough the vaunted bravery and skill of this Khal Qerrmo." said Aegon with a snort.

Though he dismissed the Dothraki and their ability to win a fair fight against a trained knight, he was not an idiot to throw away his life on a whim. He trained almost daily with a sword and was confident he could bring the Khal to his knees without a huge battle robbing many lives. Besides, he could think of many uses with a Khalassar under his command.

*****

Aegon stared at his foes from across a field of grass. The Dothraki Khalasar arranged themselves in neat columns as the Dragonshields did the same on his side.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Aegon? We can destroy them in the field with minimal causalities on our side." Jon whispered from his side.

Aegon turned around to stare at the faces of his men and his wife standing far back with their dragons.

"When the bards write songs about our campaign in Essos, let there be no doubt that we won battles at the edge of steel, not just dragonfire." said Aegon.

"Then, at least reconsider wearing your armour." Ser Reginald pleaded.

"Armour will slow me down. Speed is what I need when facing this foe. I have chainmail for protection." said Aegon, pulling the reins of his horse and prodding his mount to move forward.

The officers of the Dragonshields followed him, riding to the centre of the battleground. Khal Qerrmo and his bloodriders followed suit by riding out from their side. The two groups met at the dead centre between their armies underneath the towering hills of Andalos.

"Are the terms acceptable?" Aegon asked once their horses settled down, and he stared at the man, who he assumed was Khal Qerrmo.

Khal Qerrmo started saying something in his people's grotesque language that sounded like he was taking a hammer to a rock. It was completely alien to his ears, but he observed the Khal closely when the man spoke.

The Khal had long black hair and onyx eyes. The man was tall and packed with muscles on his torso. The man clearly had no qualms in showing off his body as his upper torso was left bare sans for wearing bones and animal teeth as ornaments. The long drooping moustache and beard held many bells, as did the braids on the Khal's head. The Khal's forehead was covered in markings in black ink.

Aegon also suspected the Khal was wearing eyeliner, which made him bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh at the Khal's face.

"My Khal says the terms are acceptable, but he wants two of his own demands to be included in the terms." Guan, the bloodrider, said in accented common tongue.

"That is reasonable. What does your Khal want?" Aegon nodded.

"My Khal wishes the challenge to be a fight to death." Guan said loudly.

"Agreed." Aegon immediately said as he was expecting nothing less from a Khal. "What is the second demand?"

"My Khal wishes not to make a young widow out of your beautiful wife. He says after he kills you, he wishes to marry your wife and give her lots of children." said Guan.

"Barbarian scum!" Ser Reginald sneered, eyes blazing with anger at the insult.

"You dare to insult our princess! I'll have your tongue for this." Jon shouted, unsheathing his sword and made to dismount his horse.

"Jon!" Aegon sharply said, bringing his friend to a halt. "There is no need to be offended. Consider it the last words of a dead, pathetic man."

"Your Khal may try to do so if he has the strength to defeat me." Aegon said with a snort.

With that said, Aegon dismounted his horse and gave the reins to one of his men.

"It's time, Khal Qerrmo. Are we fighting or not?" Aegon asked as he took a shield in his left hand and a sword in the other.

As Khal Qerrmo jumped down from his horse and prepared for the fight, Aegon called forth the magic within him to the forefront. He could not perform any complicated spells since he lacked a wand. But ever since he was blessed with the white flame, it became easier to perform wandless magic as long as the spells were simple and easy to bind with touch.

He channelled his will and imagination to shape the magical energy and let it seep into the shield, sword and chainmail he was carrying. Immediately, he felt a few pounds lighter.

He took a few steps forward to put some distance from his horse, and he found that his movement was not as restricted as before. Adjusting the grip on his shield and sword, he turned his wrists lightly. Both weapons were as light as a feather in his hands.

'Glory to Gaelithox. It worked!' Aegon thought with relief.

He had been experimenting with his magic to summon spells that he remembered from the dreams and the occasional memories slumbering within his mind. It was a bag of mixed results. His affinity to fire seems to work wonders with the spells he knew, which was not much in the first place. His knowledge of elemental spells was poor, and the many charms he knew were useless without a wand. The most complicated charm he could perform was the listening charm, which he could only bind to a place as long as his skin was in contact with the targeted place.

But he had been trying his best to use the featherlight charm as it was more practical than the disarming charm. After all, the featherlight charm was inconspicuous. No one could see he was using magic with subtle charms like that, but the disarming charm would show his magic to everyone. He was already on thin ice with his pyromancy out in the open in Westeros. The only reason he hadn't seen as many wary eyes around him was because he was in Essos, where pyromancers were aplenty.

With his sword, shield and chainmail weighing as light as a feather, Aegon grew more confident as he faced the hulking figure of Khal Qerrmo.

The Khal towered over him with a nearly seven-foot-tall mass of muscles. Aegon barely reached the shoulders of the Khal. But if size alone determined the results of battles, he'd have feared the Khal and never agreed to fight solo.

Besides, the Khal's insults to Gael could not be overlooked. Leaving such insults unanswered was not part of his character, especially when the savage came after Gael with such crude insults. It took every ounce of patience within his being to stay aloof after hearing such crude claims made by the Khal.

Aegon stood ready with his sword raised on a level, its tip pointed at the Khal, and the shield stayed in front of his body.

Khal Qerrmo twirled his arakh in a graceful arc, the blade slicing through the air with a low him. There was now a manic glint in the black abyss that was the Khal's eyes. There was no need for words to exchange as they both charged with their weapons ready.

The Khal's move was predictable, his arakh slicing in a sweeping arc aimed at his head.

Aegon deftly sidestepped, with his sword flashing in practised ease, aiming to catch the Khal before the man could recover. Khal Qerrmo jumped back with a speed Aegon thought impossible for a man of that size to pull off. There was now a dangerous grin stretching across the Khal's face. The Khal said something in his native language, which flew over Aegon's head but he could assume it was not anything nice by the sound and expression on the Khal's face.

The dance of combat continued in a whirlwind of steel. The arakh was a weapon he hadn't trained against, and that inexperience made Aegon cautious whenever the Khal came after him with speed and lethal precision. Each of the Khal's strikes was aimed to overwhelm with sheer power and speed.

Aegon, however, used his exemplary footwork to keep mobile on the field with grace, his sword deflecting and parrying each attack with unwavering focus. His lessons under the finest knights of the Seven Kingdoms came to him like a calm river, bolstering his body and mind with knowledge and wisdom of centuries of combat.

He could feel the frustration mounting within Khal Qerrmo as each blow became more frantic and unusually forceful than before. His shield was denting under the increasing force of attacks from the Khal.

'The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long.' Aegon thought, noticing the Khal slowly starting to wear down.

With a quick thrust, Aegon aimed to stab through the Khal's thighs when the man came dangerously close. The Khal twisted away while trying to slice off his head. Aegon parried the arakh with his shield and pushed the weapon to a side.

Aegon closed the distance between them with a sudden burst of speed and aggressiveness. He pressed the attack, his sword slicing through the air in a series of decisive strikes. The Khal struggled to keep up with Aegon's sudden bout of aggressive swordplay.

His relentless assault finally bore fruit when an opening presented itself. The Khal left himself wide open while defending a high strike from his sword. Aegon used his shield to slam into the knee of the Khal, which left the warrior screaming in pain. He swiftly followed it by raising his shield and catching the Khal's chin in a blow that shattered the Dothraki warrior's jaw. Aegon could see a few teeth flying out of the Khal's mouth, accompanied by a spray of blood.

Aegon didn't waste the opportunity. He deftly stabbed his sword through the exposed shoulder of the Khal. The Khal howled in pain, and Aegon deftly kicked the Khal's chest to throw him away from his sword. His sword came loose from the Khal's shoulder with dark red blood drenched on its surface.

A look of fear, utter surprise, and pain crossed the Khal's face as the arakh fell from his sword. The weapon fell into the lush green ground with a dull thud.

Aegon stood over the Khal, breathing a bit haggardly, but he was in far better condition than the Khal. His mismatched eyes glowed eerily as he looked down on his defeated foe.

"You insulted and threatened my wife. Only death awaits those who threaten the love of my life." said Aegon, glaring at the barbarian who made crude claims about his wife.

Unlike the times in the past when he raised his sword to kill, this time, he didn't feel any disgust or hesitation. His hands were steady as he stared into the pitch-black eyes of his defeated foe. The steel whistled as his sword sliced through the air and the neck of Khal Qerrmo.

The Khal's head rolled on the ground while the rest of his body shook as blood gushed from the neck.

Aegon raised his sword and pointed it straight at the bloodriders of Khal Qerrmo.

"Anyone else feeling the urge to insult and threaten my wife?" he asked with blood dripping from his sword.

Only the silent whisper of the wind was heard on the battlefield, followed by the Khalasar kneeling on the ground following the lead of Khal Qerrmo's bloodriders.

"Dragons have tamed the stags, lions, falcons, krakens, trouts, roses and wolves of Westeros. The Stallions of Essos is no better." said Aegon, wiping the bloodstains from his sword.

Aegon took a deep breath, raised his sword and pointed it at the sky in victory, a broad smile spreading on his face while his men cheered. Fiendfyre, sensing his mood, let out a fierce roar with his massive black wings spread wide. They had won!

Chapter Text

“I didn’t think exile would turn you into a warlord, but I admit to being thoroughly surprised.” Daemon said with a smirk.

“Careful there, Daemon. Jealousy does not suit you.” Aegon replied, throwing an amused smile at his brother while pouring wine into two cups and offering it to his brothers sitting across from him with a small round table between them.

“Hmm… this is fine wine.” Viserys hummed with satisfaction as the red wine trickled down his throat.

“One of the best batches from the Flatlands.” said Aegon, leaning back in his seat while staring at his brothers.

“Enough with this useless pretence.” Daemon scoffed before staring straight into Aegon’s eyes, “We’re here to bring you and Gael back to King’s Landing.”

If his brother was attempting to intimidate or take him by surprise, it didn’t work as Aegon stared at Daemon calmly. He took his time to enjoy the wine slowly while formulating a response.

“Thank you for being so forthcoming.” Aegon said calmly, “So, let me save you the trouble. The answer is no.”

“Splendid! Can we go now? I tire of this ridiculous heat, and everywhere I look, I see savages and spineless cowards. This place is worse than King’s Landing.” said Daemon, rising from his seat.

“Sit down, Daemon.” Viserys commanded sternly.

Aegon watched his brother sit with a disgruntled grumble, which he masked by sipping more wine. Just then, Gael walked into his tent, which lightened the mood somewhat.

“Viserys. Daemon. I hope your journey wasn’t too uncomfortable.” Gael said with a delicate smile as she joined at Aegon’s side.

“Oh, it was quite wonderful. We quite enjoyed being boiled to death atop Ceraxes as we chased after you from Pentos and all the little villages you visited until we found you in the middle of nowhere.” Daemon said wryly with a heated glare directed at Aegon, who couldn’t help but chuckle at the vivid picture painted by his brother.

“I know you’ve never been one to like history books, brother. For your information, this place is called Hugor’s Hill. People believe it was here that King Hugor was crowned by the Seven.” Aegon said with a grin.

“Ah, yes. My younger brother – ever the lover of fables and superstitions of lesser men. It is disheartening to see that crossing the Narrow Sea has not broken that terrible part of your character.” Daemon said with a sneer.

“What did you expect? I’d style myself as a Dragonlord of Valyria, bind all people in chains, and burn the rest that defy me?” Aegon asked with a raised eyebrow.

“If you had done so, I’d have been proud, but I’ll settle for this. At least you’ve taught these savages never to pick a fight with a Targaryen.” Daemon said grudgingly.

“We’re veering off from the important matter.” Viserys intervened, breaking the banter, “Daemon and I – the King sent us to invite you back home. King Jaehaerys has blessed your union and countermanded all the edicts issued by our father. He implores you to return home and be with family in these trying times.”

“He countermanded them. How generous of him. All our father has to do is to wait a few years for grandfather to pass and invoke every single order from the past and new ones he can think of to torment me.” Aegon glared at his brothers with his hands shaking with righteous fury as he gripped the arms of the chair, “The answer is still no.”

“Calm down, my love.” Gael’s soothing voice reached his tumultuous heart, and her hand upon his calmed him down.

Aegon took a deep breath before continuing the conversation.

“I’ve known from the moment I could walk that my father thought so little of me. I’ve grown to accept that over the years, but I won’t tolerate it any longer. He tried to strip me of my dignity and kill my dragon. I won’t tolerate such blatant insults to my person from anyone.”

“Our father is immensely sorry for what he did. He has seen sense ever since you left the shores of Westeros. He also wants you back home, Aegon.” Viserys said earnestly, “This will be the time to mend bridges and reforge the bonds of blood.”

Aegon exchanged a long look with Gael before turning his attention back to Viserys.

“The answer is still no.” Aegon said firmly, wiping the hopeful look on Viserys’ face.

“But…” Viserys started to protest.

“It has been fifteen years since our father looked at me with barely anything that resemble love or care. I don’t expect him to change overnight, and if he did, then it’s under false pretences to appease our grandfather. I neither have the time nor the patience to play this sordid game to satisfy his ego.” said Aegon.  

“Then let me give you another alternative. You don’t have to come to the capital. You and Gael can live in Dragonstone without anyone bothering you. I give you my word.” said Viserys.

Aegon was about to reject that offer, but Gael squeezed his hand. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear while he kept a close eye on his brothers.

“Think about what this means. We can leave this place, and most importantly, we can use this to secure the transport of the Andals to a safe location.” Gael suggested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Aegon whispered back.

“Do we really have a choice? You know, as well as I do, that the Andals have no future in these lands. No matter what we do, they’ll fall here. Even if we chase away the Dothraki, the Free Cities will take them as slaves, or the Red God will take them as a sacrifice.” Gael argued back, and for once, Aegon was at a loss of words before his wife because he knew she spoke the truth.

He could campaign as hard as he could and drive the bandits, criminals and Dothraki out of Andalos, but it wouldn’t matter in the long run.

“I told you my other plan. We can still do that.” Aegon whispered back.

“You know the risks involved, and you said it yourself, but the chances of success were slim. Pentos might never agree to it.” Gael reminded him.

Aegon became contemplative.

His initial plan was not to stay and fight the entire Dothraki horde but to lure those barbarians here, thereby forcing Braavos and Pentos to intervene. The Braavosi Coastlands were not too far away from the northern hills of Andalos. If the Dothraki came in huge numbers, they wouldn’t leave those lands unmolested, forcing Braavos to join forces with him. He hoped to meet a Braavosi delegation soon as he was awfully close to their sphere of influence. It was only a matter of time before they sent envoys his way.  

At the same time, he could leverage that situation to ask Pentos and Braavos to use their fleet to ferry the Andals across the Narrow Sea to Bloodstone. It was a plan with many holes, and he was still working out the finer points of exactly how to pull it off without suffering a catastrophic failure.

“Very well.” Aegon said once Gael pulled back and stared at his brothers, “There is one thing you can do. I gave a vow to the Queen that I’ll not set foot in Westeros. If she asks me to return home, I’ll do so without complaint.”

“You know as well as I do that our grandmother is a stubborn woman. Her rift with our grandfather will never allow her to do anything he desires.” Viserys said with a roll of his eyes.

“Then there is only one way I will return. You must convince King Jaehaerys to grant passage to the Andals in my camp. If I am to come, these people must be granted passage into Westeros.” said Aegon.

“You want this smelly riff-raff to come with you?” Daemon asked incredulously, “How will we even take these useless fools? Or better yet, where will we house them?”

“The Royal Fleet will have to ferry them across the narrow sea. As for their accommodations, there is more than enough land in Dragonstone and the Crownlands.” Aegon said with a dismissive wave.

“Are you daft? You would use this situation to bargain for these pigs!” Daemon looked wroth at the very idea.

“As hard as it might be for you to swallow, brother, I care about the people who ask for my aid.” Aegon said with a deadpan look directed at his raging older brother.

If anything, it only enraged Daemon. Viserys, on the other hand, was somewhat reserved.

Aegon could understand the predicament of Viserys. His older brother was the heir to their father, and he did feel a bit guilty to wring favours from Viserys, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave these people to the mercy of the Dothraki savages. In case the Old King decided to be a stick in the mud, he still had a fallback plan to rely on. He supposed he had to work some more on that plan just in case he didn’t receive the ships from the Royal Fleet.

So, with some trepidation in his mind, he watched his brothers climb on the back of the Caraxes and fly away.

It was tempting to hold on to the chance of easily getting the protection of his family in King’s Landing. His friend Jon Tarth and Ser Reginald Reyne had made their opinions known that he should’ve given in to the orders from his grandfather. But the last few months showed him how much he needed to go his own way and build something for himself, separate from the shadow of his family.

While he had his doubts about the end game of all this, he had come so far with limited resources. But now, he had grown much faster than anticipated.

“Well, there goes our one good chance to safely return to Westeros.” Jon said from his side.

“Safely return, yes. But is it safe in Westeros?” Gael posed the question for which only silence was the answer.

“That is a good question.” Aegon commented, patting his friend’s shoulder.

“Are we safe here?” Jon turned the question around, nodding at the Dothraki camp, which was separated from the camp made by the Dragonshields.

“I’ll take a bunch of horselords as enemies over my father and Vhagar, especially when he is bound to become the King of the Seven Kingdoms after my grandfather.” Aegon said with an unimpressed look at his friend.

“Still, we would’ve been better off making peace with the King and Prince Baelon.” Ser Reginald muttered dejectedly.

“If they want to make peace, it must be on our terms.” said Aegon, taking Gael’s hand in his and brushing his lips against the back of her hand.

This gained him a beautiful smile from Gael, and that put his tremulous mind at ease.

“How about we fly for a while to take the mind off this incident?” Aegon suggested.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Dreamfyre wanted to stretch her wings this morning, and she was a little disappointed I didn’t take her.” Gael said excitedly.

As Aegon and Gael soared through the sky on their dragons, the breathtaking landscape of Andalos unfolded beneath them. Rolling hills dotted with large plantations of apple trees, pineapples, wildflowers and towering trees stretched out as far as their eyes could see. Lush forests hugged the banks of winding rivers glistering under the sunlight. Aegon memorised each of the delicate turns of those rivers and hillslopes as they were most likely tributaries of the Rhoyne.

He took a deep breath of the fresh air and leaned closer against Fiendfyre’s scales. His dragon also let out an appreciative screech, which almost sounded like a purr from a dragon. There was a certain advantage in not having urban settlements in Andalos. The air was fresh and filled with smells of wildflowers, and the land was adorned with the wild beauty of nature.

For a moment, he wondered whether it’d be feasible to settle in Andalos and forge his own kingdom in these lands. He’d be landlocked between two powerful Free Cities and fighting off a constant stream of barbarian armies of the Dothraki, but… he couldn’t help but wonder.

He was broken out of his musings when Gael shouted for his attention. The howling wind in his ears made it hard for him to follow what Gael was shouting, but he got the general gist. When Gael pressed herself tight against Dreamfyre and banked left, he knew his wife wanted him to follow her.

“It seems Gael found something interesting, Fiendfyre. Let’s follow her.”

Usually, his dragon was not as forthcoming in following orders to the letter when they were not in a fight. But this was one of those rare occasions Fiendfyre followed his verbal command without a sign of protest. As Fiendfyre banked left and followed far slowly after a speeding Dreamfyre, Aegon couldn’t help but marvel at the changes his dragon underwent.

If anyone had gone through some healthy changes due to his hasty escape from Westeros, it would have been Fiendfyre. His dragon, known for his vice of dragon flesh, had changed his diet overnight and showed no trouble with the radical change. The Essosi mountain goats, cows, pigs and bulls were more than enough to satisfy Fiendfyre. Not once had his dragon shown an interest in devouring Dreamfyre. He had taken many precautions against something untoward happening to his wife’s dragon in the early days. He had chained Fiendfyre’s legs during the night to make it difficult for him to harm Dreamfyre.

But these days, such precautions were unnecessary as Dreamfyre and Fiendfyre had become comfortable around each other’s presence.

Dreamfyre suddenly went into a steep dive, breaking the cover of clouds and the minty fog hugging close to the hills. He urged Fiendfyre to follow by diving, and then he found what had taken his wife’s attention. There was a beautiful waterfall falling from the hillside.

His wife and her dragon landed near the stream, flowing out of the waterfall. As Fiendfyre descended, his massive wings whipped up massive gales of wind flattening the grass, and his hind legs crushed the smooth round stones upon landing. He looked into the simmering blue waters of the gentle stream from Fiendfyre’s back and then at his wife.

“The water looks perfect for a quick dip.” Gael called out, gesturing with excitement. “Race you to the water.”

“No, wait! It might be dangerous!” Aegon called out in warning, but his words fell on deaf ears.

He rushed to unchain himself from the harness, climbed down from Fiendfyre’s back, and jumped down. But it was for nought because Gale was nimble and quick on her feet. It also helped that Dreamfyre was pretty sleek and far more accommodating to Gael’s antics. By the time his feet touched the ground, Gael was already standing by the edge of the stream and undressing.

He could only watch helplessly as Gael stepped into the stream. The only action he could do was follow her lead.

“Are you coming in, or are you only going to stare?” Gael playfully asked purposefully, showcasing her naked body to him with some sensual moves that blew away any of his inhibitions.

Throwing caution to the wind, Aegon followed suit and joined his wife in the stream.

The refreshing spray of the waterfall enveloped Gael and Aegon as they splashed into the cool, clear stream of water at its base. Laughter echoed off the rocky cliffs, blending with the sound of the cascading water.

“Come on, don’t be a coward!” Gael teased, urging Aegon to jump from a nearby rock ledge.

With a playful grin, Aegon took a running leap, the world blurring for a moment before he hit the water with a splash.

Emerging, he wiped the water from his eyes and called out, “That felt amazing!”

Gael dove beneath the surface, surfacing with a triumphant grin.

“I’ll show you how it’s done!”

She swam effortlessly to the waterfall's base, letting the torrent of water cascade over her nubile body, a look of pure bliss on her face.

Aegon joined her, feeling the power of the falls invigorate him. His hands snaked around her smooth waist as he hugged her from behind.

“This place is incredible,” he said, glancing around at the vibrant greenery and colourful wildflowers framing the scene as their bodies were smothered by sprays of water from the waterfall.

“We should come here more often.” Gael cried with a mischievous smile while gazing into his eyes.

Aegon couldn’t resist the urge as he pressed his lips against her cherry-red lips. Their lips brushed against each other, taking their sweet time to tentatively enjoy themselves. The waterfall’s roar became a gentle murmur in the backdrop as their lips danced against each other. When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, a smile broke across Gael’s face, one filled with joy.

“We could stay like this forever.” Gael said breathlessly, leaning against his chest and closing her eyes.

Aegon didn’t say anything and merely pressed a kiss against her silver-adorned head. As they shared a quiet moment, their fingers entwined, the waterfall roared on, a reflection of the chaos they faced. But beneath its cascading veil, they found a moment of peace—a promise of love forged in times of discord in their life. The world around them transformed as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue across the water. They leaned closer, the intimacy of the moment pulling them together, hearts beating in unison as their lips met once more in a kiss.

*****

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the rolling hills of Andalos. Aegon Targaryen sat astride his warhorse, Stormwind, the powerful stallion shifting beneath him with restless energy. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wild grasses. For weeks, reports had filtered into his camp: bandits were raiding the villages, stealing supplies, and sowing discord among the people he had sought to unite in the valleys.

For weeks, he had been uniting the villages of Andalos one by one in the hills, and now he was pushing into the valleys. The villages close to the banks of river Rhoyne’s banks were some of the wealthier villages as they were engaged in more trade with the cities of Norovos and even Ibb. The Andals living along the Rhoyne depended on the river to sustain their lives. The desolate burnt cities of the Rhoynar kept the Dothraki away as they considered the burnt cities cursed.

Unfortunately for the Andals in this region, where the Dothraki dare not tread, the bandits made themselves known with their cruelty. Bandit activity in these river basins was insidious. Reports had filtered into his camp about increased bandit activity in these settlements. Bandits were raiding the villages, stealing supplies, and sowing discord among the people he had sought to unite. In parts, it was his fault as his campaign against the Dothraki and the criminal elements near the Velvet Hills and spreading them all the way to the coasts and then to the foot of Hugor’s Hills had scared away the bandits further into the riverside. There were too many old desolate Rhoynar settlements they could take refuge in without anyone finding them, allowing them to strike at villages at will.

Unlike the Dothraki Khalassars, he could not hunt the bandits down from his dragon. The bandits were much smarter by blending in with the people and riding in smaller groups.

While these bandits had evaded his natural sight, they could not escape his reach when he used the glass candles. This was how he came upon the village before him. The villagers were terrified when he arrived atop Fiendfyre and a contingent of mounted men of Dragonshields led by his trusted friend Jon Tarth. But the Septons he had ridden with his men calmed them down by explaining his campaign and their just cause.

This particular village was ruled by seven elders, fashioning themselves after the gods they believed in. It made things slightly awkward as Aegon had so far only needed to deal with Septons or even singular village leaders. It was a bit disconcerting because he couldn’t pinpoint who was in charge, but that didn’t prevent him from hearing about their troubles with the bandit group.

“My Prince,” Jon Tarth rode up beside him, “The villagers say the bandits have set up camp near the old ruins to the west. They’ve grown bold—attacking at dusk and disappearing into the night.”

“I got the gist of it from the seven elders.” Aegon said, feeling rather weird saying it out loud.

“These bandits took two girls out about plucking tomatoes this early morning. So, they might not be too far out, and we might’ve just missed them on our way here.”

“Two girls! No one told me this.” Aegon said, a fire igniting in his eyes, “We must waste no time then. These bandits must be tracked immediately.”

Aegon immediately brought forth the Valyrian glass candle and set himself far away from any distractions. Jon guarded him while Aegon channelled his magic into the glass candle and cast his vision across the land until he found the bandits.

“Gather our men. We ride at once.” said Aegon, coming out of the trance.

As they galloped through the forest, the sound of hooves echoed against the ancient trees. Aegon led a small contingent of his best men, their armour glinting dully in the fading light. He could feel the anticipation building, the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“The villagers said there might be a dozen men among this bandit group.” Jon said as their horses ran after the trail, passing rows of trees deep into the land.

“We should be able to catch up before they reach their camp.” Aegon said, not looking forward to fighting the bandits in their camp where traps and defensive positions might hinder their efforts.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold, Aegon and his men reached the edge of the clearing where the ruins lay nestled among the trees. The crumbling stone walls, remnants of an ancient civilisation, stood like sentinels, their shadows stretching long in the twilight. The air was thick with anticipation.

By the skin of their teeth, they managed to catch up with the bandits just before they could hide behind any organised defences or traps. Once Aegon and his men galloped into the settlement on their horses, they could see the bandits were just in the process of unloading their ill-begotten haul from the village.

“To the Prince!” Jon shouted, raising his sword in challenge as they rode into the bandit camp.

The bandits were obviously aware of their presence and tried to put up an organised resistance quickly. But Aegon and his men bravely rode in, smashing away any sort of defence the bandits could put up. The bandits, caught off guard, scrambled for their swords, their confidence quickly giving way to panic. Aegon was proud to say his friend drew first blood by carving a long gash through the throat of a bandit.

Aegon charged into the fray, his sword singing as it sliced through the air, parrying an attempt by a bandit to drive his sword into his horse’s side. He followed suit by engaging the bandit in a dance of steel. Every swing and thrust from his sword was precise and backed with strength that left his opponent reeling. The added advantage of his height as he was sitting on his horse paid dividends in the situation. He managed to smack away the bandit’s sword and drive it through the throat of his enemy. The bandit choked in his own blood as he pulled his sword back and kicked the man away.

“Press the attack!” Aegon called out, his voice rising above the clash of steel and men screaming, “Do not let them regroup!”

A burly man with a scarred face rushed at Aegon, swinging a crude axe. Aegon deftly slid down from his horse, bringing his sword down in a powerful arc. The blade met flesh with a sickening thud, and the man crumpled to the ground. He made sure the bandit never dared raise a weapon against him by driving his sword through the man’s heart for good measure.

Aegon felt the surge of victory wash over him, but he had no time to dwell on it.

Another bandit, younger and more agile, rushed him from the side. However, Aegon was faster, pivoting and using the momentum of his opponent’s charge to throw him off balance. With a swift strike, he cut through the sword hand of the bandit, leaving the man to scream in the high heavens. Holding his sword by two hands, and with a hard stroke, he severed the bandit’s head from his shoulders.

The fight raged on, and the bandits began to falter under the relentless assault. Aegon felt the tide turning as the sounds of the battle were shifting from chaos to a desperate retreat.

“Surround them! Do not let a single one escape!” he shouted, his voice thundering across the battlefield.

It didn’t take long for the fight to end with the kidnapped girls safe and the bandits defeated. Five bandits were caught alive while the rest lay dead on the ground.

Aegon watched from the side as Jon bound the captured bandits in ropes while he oversaw the men bury the dead. By the grace of all the gods, none of his men lost their lives, although some suffered minor injuries.

“They fought well. Am I allowed to knight a couple of them?” Jon asked him in confidence.

“Give me the names of the men you found worthy. We must confer with Ser Reginald before making a decision.” Aegon replied.

“What about the bandits?”

“What about them?” Aegon asked with a raised brow.

“If we’re giving them the block, we might as well do it here instead of dragging these fools all the way to the village.” Jon suggested.

“We’ll question these bandits.” Aegon decided after taking a moment to think it through. “They might hold valuable information.”

Jon nodded slowly. “That is smart. They might hold some information about other bandit groups in the region.”

As they prepared to leave the ruins behind, Aegon felt a renewed sense of purpose. Seeing the ruins made him see the mark left by the Freehold with his own eyes. But unlike Valyria, Aegon was determined to leave a different kind of mark on these lands.

AN:

For artworks: https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf

Chapter Text

Aegon stared at the envoys before him from the safe distance of his temporary camp close to the coastline of Andalos.

A small host had come, but their armour gleamed under the sun, and the discipline of their ranks spoke of steel-tested resolve. They were knights of the Vale, the stalwart protectors of the eastern mountains, summoned across leagues of land and sea to a foreign shore.

Aegon knew this from observing the many banners carried by the mounted knights. But he saw more than just the knights of the Vale in the ranks. There were some prominent Crownland banners by the likes of House Brune, Velaryon, Boggs, and Crabb. There were lesser-known banners as well, and he counted eleven banners in total.

He knew some of the knights as he had encountered some of them in the lists. He was most familiar with Ser Vaemond Velaryon, Ser Theodore Rykker and Ser Alvin Brune in the group. Vaemond was the nephew of Lord Corlys, and the Velaryon Knight had captained the ship that took him and Gael to Pentos. Ser Theodore and Ser Alvin were squires in the Stormlands, and he had competed with them in the squire’s melee hosted by Lord Estermont at one point.

“Ser Theodore, Ser Alvin. We meet yet again.” Aegon greeted the two with a small smile.

“Prince Aegon.” They dipped their heads in respect.

“We heard there was work for knights to do in this place, and we wished to see for ourselves whether our services were needed.” Ser Theodore said, his brown hair whipping in the wind.

“There are many savages to be killed and good people to be saved.” said Aegon, nodding curtly to the knight.

“Sounds like a knight’s work to me.” Ser Theodore said with a nod.

“If you’ll have us, our swords are yours, my prince.” Ser Alvin offered, which Aegon graciously accepted with a respectful nod.

“I’ll be honoured to have you by our side.”

Aegon turned his attention to Ser Vaemond Velaryon.

“I thought I saw the last of you when you sailed away from Pentos, Ser Vaemond. Glad to see I was wrong.”

“Velaryon blood yearns for adventure, my prince. There is no greater adventure than seeing to the destruction of Dothraki hordes plaguing the good people of Andalos.” said Vaemond, his ocean-blue eyes shining with resolve.

Aegon nodded and shook Vaemond’s hand before moving on to the less familiar guests.

There were a couple more Crownlander knights like Bailin Pyne, Lucas Crabb, Henry Cave and Ethan Boggs. He greeted them individually, taking some time to converse with them properly. He had met some of them in tourneys, and all these knights brought their squires and pages across the Narrow Sea to liberate Andalos.

Then he turned his attention to the knights from the Vale of Arryn. William Templeton was the only man he was familiar with in the group. He knew the man only because the knights of the Ninestars were famous for their grit and skill in the lists.

“I suspect Lord Yorbert Royce must’ve not approved of your choice to cross the Narrow Sea. Still, you came, Ser.” Aegon said, fishing to glean some insight into the man’s thinking.

“The Knights of the Vale holds the teachings of the Seven close to our hearts even if they are perverted to suit one’s needs further south. We shall join you in this crusade to rid these holy lands of the Dothraki menace. The thoughts of Lord Protector of the Vale are best suited to the matters regarding the Eyrie and the Vale of Arryn.”

'A religious fanatic. Quite easy to use as a pawn.' Aegon mused.

There were quite a lot of that kind these days and he found himself adept at using them to his advantage.

“Commendable.” Aegon nodded before moving on to the other knights like Dwayne Redfort, Agustus Belmore and Richard Waynwood.

As the meet and greet progressed, their attention was captured by a loud screeching coming from the sky. Dreamfyre soared over their heads with Gael riding the mighty blue dragon. Gales of wind swept through the ground as Dreamfyre landed on her hind legs with a thud, flapping her expansive wings as she settled adequately on the ground. The Dragonkeepers rushed to ease the dragon with comforting words sung in High Valyrian.

Gael dismounted from her dragon and came to his side.

“Princess.”

The knights murmured and dipped their heads in respect.

Gael curtsied gracefully even though she was in her riding leathers and not her skirts. After exchanging some pleasantries, they retired to his tent, and Aegon invited all eleven newly arrived knights to join him. They had to remove the table in his tent to make room for the newly arrived knights.

“I met with your informant, Aegon. A khalassar has crossed the Rhoyne and raided villages close to the riverbanks. They are headed towards our camp.” said Gael.

“Did he say anything about the numbers?” Aegon asked curiously while murmurs passed through the assembled men.  

“Twenty thousand is the best estimate.”

That piece of information set off murmurs within the tent.

“We only have six thousand troops, and that’s a generous estimate without factoring in the injured and the recent deaths we suffered from ridding bandits in the region. Six thousand against twenty thousand won’t be an easy fight.” Ser Reginald said cautiously.

“Aegon the Dragon took the Seven Kingdoms with fewer numbers, Ser.” Ser Theodore said, getting some nods from the group.

“I‘m afraid I’m nowhere near the skill and fortitude of my illustrious ancestor, though we share the same name.” Aegon said humbly.

“Fiendfyre and Dreamfyre are formidable dragons. Any standard Westerosi army could be defeated because their commanders wouldn’t foolishly throw their men into dragonfire.” Ser Reginald made himself heard in the tent by speaking up over the assembled men in the tent, “But these are not Westerosi men. These are the barbarian hordes with no morals or tact. They charge in a blind rage to kill, rape and pillage. If dragons could’ve delivered us victory, we wouldn’t be having this meeting.”

That sparked a debate amongst the gathered knights. Some staunchly refused to believe there was any army in the known world that could withstand the onslaught of two grown dragons. Others were more cautious and sided with Ser Reginald and Ser Jon as they were more experienced in facing the Dothraki hordes.

“Enough!” Aegon shouted, quieting the tent.

“Ser Reginald speaks the truth. The Dothraki wish to fight to the death, believing they have a cause worthy of death. We know this because we have Dothraki warriors fighting in my army. They ally with us to honour the word of their Khal and nothing else. These men have a code, and they’re prepared to die for their Khals.” Aegon stared at each face in his tent. “We must not underestimate them.”

“What do you suggest we do then, my prince?”

“Our intention is for the Dothraki to leave Andalos. We must defeat them in the field soundly and capture as many of them as possible. Then, we force their Khals to the negotiating table and extract an oath to the effect that they never again cross the Rhoyne.” Aegon said what was on his mind.

That set off some murmurs within the tent.

“If that’s the case, then we need to ensure the Dothraki comes at us with their entire strength. We cannot allow them to move like a storm across the plains, raiding village after village. Even dragons can’t be everywhere at once.” said Ser Bailin Pyne.

Aegon tapped the map before him as he put forth his strategy.

“The Dothraki are formidable, but they are not invincible. Their strength lies in their mobility, their horses. But their horses need grass and water, and their riders need supplies. Here, in Andalos, we can deny them both.”

Aegon pointed to a cluster of hills marked on the map close to the ruined city of Ghoyan Drohe.

“The region near the Velvet Hills is defensible. If we draw the khalasars to this region and hold the passes, we can force them to fight on our terms. The dragons will destroy their vanguard, and your knights will shatter their flanks.” Aegon proposed.

“A sound plan, but it relies on us holding the high ground against a numerically superior foe. How will we ensure the Dothraki do not simply bypass our position and continue their raids?” Ser Bailin Pyne posed the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“We goad them into small skirmishes and lead them to the battlefield of our choosing.” Jon piqued up.

Ser Reginald elaborated, his voice softer but no less assured as he picked off where Jon had left off.  

“We will leave a portion of our forces in the plains, a feigned retreat. The Dothraki cannot resist such a prize. Once they give chase, we will spring the trap.”

Ser Theodore exchanged glances with Ser Bailin and Ser Dwayne. It was a dangerous gambit that required absolute coordination and unflinching dedication to the task at hand. But the logic was sound, and the prospect of fighting alongside dragons was compelling.

“That portion will be under threat of a complete rout. You’ll be asking men to sacrifice their lives for a strategy that might become useless in the event of a complete rout.” Ser Dwayne Redfort pointed out the weakness in the plan.

“That’s why we’ll not use Westerosi troops as bait. I have a substantial Dothraki khalasar sworn to me. We’ll use them as bait.” Aegon proposed.

His proposal was approved by almost everyone in the tent. Now, the finer details needed to be hashed out before they started leading the pillaging khalasar into a trap.

******

The low, relentless beating of war drums reverberated through the air, echoing across the green plains of Andalos. Dust swirled, kicked up by the boots of soldiers and the hooves of horses, mingling with the cool morning mist that clung to the grasses.

Aegon sat astride his stallion Stormwind, his keen eyes scanning the distant horizon where the banners of the Dothraki Horde had begun to appear. The classic hollering and screaming of the Dothraki horde were disconcerting for many in his comparatively smaller army. The presence of the Dothraki khalasar in this region was a testament to the success of their strategy.

Their strategy of baiting the khalasar worked splendidly. The Dothraki outriders managed to find their camp just like they planned, and as Aegon envisioned, the khalasar became tempted to launch an all-out attack against their camp. This time, Aegon wasn’t mounting Fiendfyre and waging the battle from the safety of his dragon. He was a knight before he became a dragon rider, and he wanted to show that he was just as capable of waging war without his dragon.

Beside him, Ser Reginald Reyne and Ser Jon Tarth exchanged a tensed glance, seeing the massive army arrayed against them.

“Six thousand soldiers against twenty thousand strong Dothraki army.” Ser Reginald murmured, his voice taut with dread as his eyes fell on the massive army charging towards them.

“The Dothraki fight to plunder your homes.” Aegon shouted at the top of his lungs,
“Will you submit?”

“No!” the response from his men was weak, but Aegon prowled on.

“The Dothraki fight to rape your women. Will you submit?”

“No!”

This time, the response was stronger.

“The Dothraki fight to enslave you and your children. Will you accept chains of bondage?”

“No!”

“Then, fight for your homes, your women, your children and for yourself. Fight in the name of your gods!” Aegon shouted as he rode his horse along the lines, successfully riling up his men.

He ordered the war drums to make sounds as loud as possible to drown out the hollering of the Dothraki riders. Aegon rode back to his command position at the centre of the army with his men neatly moving around to give him a path.

“Ser Reginald, form the shields in the centre line,” Aegon commanded, his voice carrying over the noise. “Archers on the hillsides. And send word to the flanks to prepare the pikes.”

Ser Reginald nodded and rode off, barking orders to the men as they formed into disciplined lines. The shields gleamed in the sun as they were raised, each man bracing for the inevitable impact of the Dothraki charge.

Aegon watched his men reform themselves under his orders, and the foot soldiers took up long pikes they had made for this occasion. The Dothraki were comprised of mounted men, and a wall of pikes was more than enough to blunt their attacks on his flanks. Up front and centre, he had placed his limited Unsullied troops, which Pentos provided. Their unflinching courage in the face of overwhelming force made them uniquely suited for the role he had in mind.  

He turned his horse around to face the oncoming Dothraki army.

The Dothraki didn’t delay. They began their assault without a thought, sweeping across the plains like a dark wave, their shrieks piercing the air.

Aegon waited, still and composed. He had studied the ways of war and the tactics of battlefields from the best tutors from an early age. He knew that every battle was won or lost in the moments before the first clash in the minds of the generals. He glanced at his archer captains, perched on either side of the valley, and lifted his hand.

The drummers shifted the tone to convey his will to the archers. He let his hand fall down, and that was the signal. The archers released the strings and let their arrows fly.

He had chosen his position carefully. The wind was on his side, and he watched the arrows soar above his head, guided by the western winds to the east. With increased range, his archers fell a row of Dothraki quickly. The savages made it easy for his archers since they refused to wear any armour or chainmail on their bodies. Screams filled the air as horses reared, their riders tumbling to the ground, but the Dothraki pushed forward relentlessly. The arrows slowed them but did not break their charge.

More and more volleys of arrows were rained down on the savages without fail, and more Dothraki men fell dead or injured on the battlefield.

“Lock shields!” Aegon shouted.

His foot soldiers on the front obeyed his command without fail. They locked shields just like they practised. He had drilled them relentlessly to create a wall of shields to withstand the Dothraki archers, and he watched with satisfaction as his men executed the manoeuvre without fail.

The Unsullied at the front lines carried shields nearly as tall as their bodies. Those wooden shields had sharp metal spikes hammered into them. They were designed to withstand an assault like this and injure the charging horses of the Dothraki savages. The Unsullied also carried the sharpest spears and were quick to hastily place pikes in front just before the Dothraki charged their lines.

The first wave of Dothraki struck the shield wall with thunderous force. The ground shook as horses collided with men, the sound of steel-on-steel filling the air. Shields splintered, swords clashed, and screams of agony mingled with the brutal roars of combat.

“Hold the line! Hold the line!” Ser Reginald shouted, his voice ringing across the field.

A flurry of arrows arced high into the sky, slicing down into the mass of Dothraki riders. Bloodcurdling screams and desperate cries of horses filled the battlefield.

As he predicted, the bulk of the Dothraki charge shifted to his flanks after testing the strength of his front lines. But the Dothraki walked straight into his trap as the ground around his flanks was littered with caltrops. The Dothraki horses fell in droves as they rode into a minefield full of caltrops. As the Dothraki army became disoriented, the lucky few who reached his lines were expertly cut down r speared by his men.

Seeing that the bulk of the Dothraki army was now committed to the charge, Aegon took the horn secured on his belt and blew it as loud as possible. The men handling the drums also took out their horns and blew them so that the sound was heard throughout the battlefield.

It was the signal for Gael, who was guarding their camp with Dreamfyre and the Valemen he had placed under her command. It didn’t take long before a blare of horns came from the west. Soon, Aegon watched the Valemen ride out from beyond the hill atop their horses like the famed knights of the legend. The banners of Redfort, Belmore, Templeton, and Waynwood rode down from the hill. Knights from the Crownland houses like Brune, Buckwell, Pyne, Rykker, Crabb, Cave, Velaryon and Boggs led another contingent from the adjacent hill.

Gael followed suit, riding Dreamfyre into battle.

The roar from his wife’s dragon captured the attention of the Dothraki hordes, but it was too late to notice the danger they were in. The strategy employed by Aegon revolved around baiting the Dothraki army to commit to an attack in huge numbers so that there was little room for manoeuvrability.

Therefore, when Dreamfyre soared above the Dothraki army and breathed fire on the left flank, the savages could do nothing but burn to death. A long line of blue fire cut through the left flank of the Dothraki army. Screams tore through the battlefield as the Dothraki savages were burnt alive by dragonfire. The panicked horses of the Dothraki broke ranks and trampled around, creating more chaos, which Aegon utilised to his advantage.

“All lines, advance!” Aegon roared with a sword raised in the air.

Shields splintered, swords clashed, and screams of agony mingled with the brutal roars of combat. Aegon pushed forward, his sword swinging in precise, deadly arcs. Each strike was measured, and each movement was controlled. A Dothraki lunged at him, swinging his arakh with brutal strength. Aegon parried the blow, his own blade moving with lethal precision, slicing through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood splattered on his face, but he paid no heed and moved on to the next opponent.

The smell of blood and sweat filled the air, thick and overwhelming. Aegon barely registered it, his focus unyielding as he cut down enemy after enemy, his movements a dance of lethal precision. He could hear Ser Reginald shouting orders and could see Ser Jon rallying the men to hold the line, their presence bolstering the soldiers’ courage.

The first wave of his reserve army crashed into the flanks of the Dothraki army. The savages were unable to properly mount a defence against the charging knights of the Vale and the Crownlands. The earth trembled as the knights surged forward, their spears lowered, their banners streaming like flames in the wind.

The plains exploded into chaos as the knights descended upon the enemy like a storm. The first ranks of the Dothraki savages barely had time to turn before the knights crashed into them, the sheer force of the charge shattering their formation. Spears plunged into the unprotected flesh, horses trampled the fallen, and the air was filled with the screams of the dying.

The momentum of the charge carried the knights deep into the enemy ranks, scattering the Dothraki army like chaff before the wind. The knights moved with deadly precision, their training and discipline turning the chaos to their advantage. Small groups of Dothraki riders tried to rally, but the knights cut them down mercilessly, their war cries drowning out the battlefield.

The tide of the battle began to turn. The Dothraki, stunned by the ferocity of the charge, faltered, their ranks crumbling under the relentless assault.

Another stream of dragonfire fell upon the ranks of the Dothraki army, burning the men and their horses to ashes.

Aegon slashed through the unprotected belly of a Dothraki soldier with his sword, spilling the contents of his enemy’s stomach. He switched to another opponent and engaged in a fierce bout of swordplay. He ended up cutting through the wrists of his opponent, and a prompt stab through the stomach saw his enemy's downfall.  

“To me!” Aegon roared as he led a charge into the disoriented ranks of the horse lords.

Aegon surged forward, leading the counter-attack. His men followed, pouring out from the shield wall, their battle cries rising as they charged into the disarrayed Dothraki ranks. The once-fierce horde was now fragmented, their famed cavalry charge disrupted. Aegon cut his way through the chaos, his sword flashing, his armour splattered with blood as he fought with unyielding determination. Every swing of his sword claimed a Dothraki life. He became a whirlwind of death unleashed upon the Dothraki horde and showed no mercy against his opponents. Each swing was without hesitation with the intent to kill.

In the thick of the fray, Aegon faced a Dothraki khal, a towering figure with fierce eyes and a braid nearly to his waist, adorned with bells that rang with each movement. The khal roared, swinging his arakh in a vicious arc. Aegon parried the strike, feeling the force of the blow reverberate up his arm. They clashed again and again, their strikes quick and brutal, neither giving an inch.

The khal screamed something unintelligent, mocking him in the guttural language of the Dothraki. But Aegon remained silent, his focus on the fight and his movements precise. The khal lunged from atop his horse, his arakh aimed at Aegon’s throat. Aegon ducked, pivoting, his own blade flashing as he brought it down with deadly accuracy. His blade cut through the khal’s chest, slicing deep. The khal reeled back, his eyes widening in shock as he bled from the wound.

Aegon capitalised on the surprise and readily went in for the kill. His sword flashed and cut through the air with precision. He cut through the khal’s neck as if a hot knife cut through butter.

The bloodriders accompanying the khal tried to take revenge, but they were quickly cut down by the Dragonshields or the knights on his side.

Aegon took a step back, breathing heavily, his gaze sweeping over the battlefield. The Dothraki horde, leaderless and broken, had begun to retreat. Their once-proud charge was reduced to a scattered flight across the plains. Gael made their retreat costly as she took repeated passes over the fleeing Dothraki horde and gave them a fiery death. The Dragonshields were quick to organise into disciplined lines of archers to rain death upon them with their arrows under the command of Ser Jon.

His own men cheered, their voices lifting in victory, but Aegon raised his hand, silencing them.

“See to the wounded,” he commanded. “We’ve won the day, but there will be more battles to come.”

As his soldiers tended to the dead and dying, Aegon looked out over the blood-soaked fields of Andalos, the bodies of men and horses lying together in the dust. His heart was heavy, for the price had been steep, though they had triumphed on the battlefield. Seeing the battlefield only reinforced his need to expedite the plans to create a fleet of ships to transport the Andals from this part of the world.Or better yet, enforce an unlikely treaty with the Dothraki. The latter would be the most profitable but he was ready either way.

AN:

For artworks: https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf

Chapter Text

100 AC

Baelon Targaryen sat at the head of the small council table, his silver hair catching the dim light of the chamber. The Targaryen sigil above him cast a long shadow, a silent reminder of the weight of his lineage. Around him, the lords of the small council murmured their reports, the daily monotony of governance settling into a predictable rhythm.

But today, the air in the room felt charged—a storm brewing on the horizon.

Baelon leaned back with a sigh as he stared at the vacant seats in the small council.

‘This chamber was once filled with the best the realm had to offer. I suppose this also my failure.’ Baelon mused sardonically.

“My Prince, there is news from Essos. Prince Aegon has taken it upon himself to lead a campaign in the Velvet Hills. There is talk of a great battle in which he decimated a large Dothraki khalassar without his dragon.” Grand Maester Allar wheezed out due to his poor health.

Baelon frowned at the news about his wayward son.

On one hand, he was relieved his son was out there making a name for himself far away from his sight. It was only his son’s mismatched eyes so, like his lost love, that triggered an irrational part in his mind. Though Viserys and his own father blamed him for Aegon’s and Gael’s elopement, he was rather happy it happened. He had hoped they’d have gone to Pentos and lived a peaceful life away from any political entanglements.

But then his son took up the crusade against the Dothraki barbarians in Andalos and all other places. The time he spent on smoothing over the ruffled feathers of the upjumped merchants and courtiers of the Sealord was too exhausting. But he did so to assuage any fears of House Targaryen’s interest in the region or their support of Pentoshi expansion. He had to summon representatives from the Pentoshi Prince to emphasise the danger involved in recklessly expanding their territory into Andalos.

He did all he could to keep the Braavosi from sending Faceless Men after his son and sister. If he had a better relationship with his son, he’d have sent word to direct his son’s actions to much safer pursuits. But since that was impossible, thanks to his own actions, he had to do so in other ways. He was the one to send the help his son solely needed to survive in Essos. He did so in the form of ships, gold, men and weapons.

“I’m afraid the situation is somewhat delicate, my prince. The Braavosi have long held ambitions on the coasts of Andalos. Prince Aegon’s actions, while noble, have attracted the ire of the Sealord.” Lord Beesbury said with a cautious tone.

“Perhaps it’s time we broker a pact between Pentos and Braavos about the status of Andalos. Pentos has been a valuable trade partner, and Braavos has aligned with House Targaryen’s interests in the past despite some unfortunate events.” Grand Maester Allar suggested.

“This could also be the time to reach out to Prince Aegon and Princess Gael. Surely, their actions in Andalos merit their immediate return. The people will welcome them with open arms and heap praises. Already, the smallfolk and the septons whisper their names in reverence.” Ser Ryam Redwine said while the Grand Maester and Lord Beesbury nodded in agreement.

Baelon took some time to think it through before nodding thoughtfully.

“Fine. I shall ask his grace’s permission before sending invites to the Sealord and the Prince of Pentos.” Baelon agreed to the council’s decision.

It was bound to be a difficult task. The Braavosi and Pentoshi were competitive and held a lot of bad blood between them. But, if anyone could bring those two to the table to reach a common goal, it was his father, the Conciliator. His father had done so in the past, and this time, the Faith was also involved. While the Faith was not as influential in Essos, they still had their voice in the Sealord’s court. Considering Andalos remains a spiritually important area for Andals on both continents, Baelon hoped to sway their support to this peace treaty as well.

In his mind, this was a blessing in disguise. While his son’s adventurism in Andalos had brought some difficulties in court, Baelon ultimately thought it was an opportunity to gain the upper hand. Lys, Myr and Tyrosh were getting too close to his liking, and he still hadn’t forgiven the Myrish curs who slew his elder brother. So, his son’s antics were now forcing Braavos and Pentos to settle their territorial disputes amicably. With that settled, Baelon hoped to direct a collective response against the other Free Cities trying to make a nuisance in the Stepstones.

Of course, he still had now way to pacify Corlys Velaryon and bring the Velaryons on board. Such hopes ended with Gael’s elopement with Aegon.

‘And to think I believed Aegon and Laena would strengthen the bonds between the two families.’ Baelon thought with a disappointed frown.

Suddenly, there was a slight commotion outside the small council chambers before the doors were flung open by an out-of-breath acolyte of the Grand Maester.

“Emil! What is the meaning of this?” Grand Maester Allar wheezed with an affronted look at the interruption.

The acolyte bowed low before the council.

“My Prince, my lords, Grand Maester, forgive my impudence. I bring grave news. The Queen has passed away.”

“What!” Baelon hissed.

Baelon stood up abruptly with his eyes wide and a weight settling in his heart.

“Forgive me, my prince. The servants found the Queen in her bed. Maester Elmac was the one to pronounce her grace’s passing.” the acolyte reported with bowed head.

Baelon merely waved almost mechanically as Grand Maester sought leave from the small council chambers to check on the Queen. It took a moment for the passing of his mother to set in, and when it did, Baelon fell unceremoniously into his seat in grief.  

'I'm without a mother and the Seven Kingdoms without its Queen.' Baelon thought with his eyes closed, hiding the grief from the small council.

******

The late afternoon sun cast a warm golden glow over the tranquil waters of the Rhoyne. The soft sound of the river’s flow intermingled with the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze swept through the trees lining the banks. Aegon Targaryen stood barefoot at the edge of the river, his crimson cloak folded neatly on a nearby rock, the royal purple three-headed dragon embroidered upon it catching the light. His silver-gold hair glinted in the sun as he surveyed the scene before him.

Fiendfyre, the Cannibal, rested in the shallows of the river, his massive form dominating the landscape. The great dragon’s ebony scales shimmered with a faint opalescence, each one a testament to his immense power. Steam rose faintly from the water around him, the heat of his body warming the cool river. His long tail trailed lazily through the gentle current of the river while his great head rested on the bank, golden eyes half-lidded in contentment.

Aegon approached his dragon with a mixture of admiration and affection. In the time since he claimed Fiendfyre, their bond had deepened in ways that words could scarcely describe. He reached out a hand, placing it gently on the dragon’s massive snout. Fiendfyre rumbled a low, resonant sound that vibrated through the air and the ground beneath Aegon’s feet.

“You’ve earned this, my friend,” Aegon murmured, his voice low and soothing. “All the battles we’ve fought, the skies we’ve claimed, the hills we have conquered... You deserve a moment of peace.”

With a practised hand, Aegon began to unseal a series of small clay jars the Dragonkeepers had prepared for him. They were filled with oils and herbs, their scents mingling to create a calming aroma. The oils had been prepared under the keen watch of the ancient order of Dragonkeepers after weeks of preparation, a blend meant to soothe and cleanse. Aegon dipped his fingers into one jar, coating them with the rich mixture before stepping closer to Fiendfyre. Gael had been the one to stay with the Dragonkeepers to watch and learn the process while he and Fiendfyre were away to purge the remnants of some khalassars terrorising the land.

The dragon’s hide was warm beneath his touch, the texture both rough and smooth, like an ancient marble stone polished by time. Aegon worked methodically, massaging the oil into the scales along Fiendfyre’s neck and shoulders. He moved with care and precision, mindful of the sensitive areas around the joints of the dragon’s wings and the base of his horns. Fiendfyre’s great body shifted slightly, a deep rumble escaping his throat as he relaxed under Aegon’s ministrations.

“You like that, don’t you?” Aegon said with a faint smile.

He reached for another jar, this one containing an oil infused with lavender and chamomile. The scent wafted upward as he applied it to Fiendfyre’s massive forelegs, his hands moving in steady, circular motions.

Fiendfyre’s tail flicked lazily, sending a small wave rippling through the river. Aegon chuckled softly, the sound carrying over the water. The fish, initially terrorised by the presence of Fiendfyre, now nipped at the scales of the dragon playfully. Fiendfyre seemed to not mind the attention.

“You’re just a big lizard at heart, aren’t you?” he teased, though his tone was filled with affection.

He started humming an old Valyrian song as he moved to the dragon’s wings, spreading the oils carefully along the delicate membranes.

‘O, mighty peaks, the Fourteen Flames arise,
Where fire’s heart and earth’s own fury meet.
In molten rivers, death and life contend,
Their glow ignites us Dragonlords’ pride.’

‘Your veins of flame, a forge for crimson might,
Unleashing wrath to bend both steel and blood.
In whispered chants beneath your searing light,
The blood of gods their destiny fulfills.’

The setting sun shone through the translucent skin, casting an otherworldly glow that reminded Aegon of the fires they had unleashed together in battle.

As the hours passed, the sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson. Aegon continued his work, losing himself in the rhythm of his movements and the quiet companionship of his dragon. He spoke to Fiendfyre as he worked, recounting tales of their victories, the challenges they had overcome, and even some old Valyrian dragon songs. Though Fiendfyre could not answer in words, his occasional rumbles and the gentle shifts of his massive body spoke to him far deeper than any language.

Finally, as twilight descended, Aegon stepped back to admire his work. Fiendfyre’s scales gleamed with a renewed brilliance, the oils enhancing their natural lustre. The great dragon lifted his head, regarding his rider with those piercing golden eyes. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, a king and his dragon, bound by fire and blood.

“Rest now, Fiendfyre,” Aegon said softly. He reached out one last time, placing his hand against the dragon’s warm flank. “We’ll need our strength for what’s to come.”

Fiendfyre rumbled in response, a sound that seemed to echo with satisfaction. With a mighty stretch of his wings, he rose from the river, water cascading from his immense form. Aegon watched as the dragon settled onto the riverbank, curling his massive body into a resting position.

Aegon took a bath by the riverside, cleaning the oil and sweat clinging to his body before gathering his cloak. He stood for a moment longer, eyeing his peacefully sleeping dragon companion one last time.

As the first stars appeared in the darkening sky, Aegon Targaryen turned away from Fiendfyre’s abode and began the walk back to the camp, leaving behind the quiet whispers of the river.

He was a bit perturbed to see Gael was absent throughout the day. Usually, Gael would’ve sought him out at some point. The cause behind her absence became apparent when he found his wife in the company of Samantha Reyne. The newly arrived niece of Ser Reginald was quick to catch his wife’s attention, and they became fast friends, it’d seem. He found Gael combing the hair of the young lady of House Reyne while chatting away enthusiastically.

He watched this from the entrance of the tent. Gael and her friend had yet to notice his presence. He was happy Gael had found a friend in Samantha Reyne. While her current lady companions from Andalos were not lacking, he liked the fact that someone from one of the prominent Great Houses of Westeros was now Gael’s companion. It was imperative to maintain close ties with Westeros, and he knew Gael communicated with the world through bonds of friendship.

He turned away from the tent to give the two some privacy.

“Shall I prepare another tent for refreshments, my prince?” Ser Reginald asked quietly while standing guard outside the tent.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Aegon said, turning away from his tent to find the progress of the work he assigned to the stone masons and sculptors.  

Despite the sun going down over the horizon, the men were hard at work to complete the pillars he commissioned. The Dragon Pillars were his idea to keep the Dothraki from crossing over the Rhoyne into Andalos. It was meant to intimidate the barbarian hordes. The pillars had dragon heads sculpted on the stone, while the skulls and bones of horses and Dothraki men were mixed with mortar at the base of the pillars.

“Make sure those skulls and their stupid bells are visible. I want those barbarians to see their comrades and tremble.” Jon shouted to the workers.

Aegon walked quietly to the side of his friend, who was overseeing the construction of the pillars.

“The pillars seem to be coming up nicely.” Aegon commented.

“They’re wicked looking, aren’t they?” Jon grinned. “Those barbarians will be in for a surprise.”

“Indeed.” Aegon hummed as he observed the few completed pillars.

They were tall and made of white stone that towered over even the tallest men with a dragon head carved on the side facing east. It looked like the dragon sculpture was standing over the bones of Dothraki men and their horses. The message the pillar conveyed was quite clear and to the point.

“However, it could’ve gone without the script.” Jon commented.

“It is a written warning for those who dare to cross the Rhoyne into Andalos. Isn’t that the point?” Aegon said with an arched eyebrow.

“Do you seriously think these barbarians know how to read or write? They only know to raid, rape and pillage.”

“They might one day learn to read.” Aegon said with a shrug.

“Seriously?” Jon looked at him incredulously.

“Who knows what the future holds, my friend?” Aegon snorted as he patted Jon’s shoulder. “Maybe the Dothraki would see the benefits of being literate.”

“Ha!” Jon roared in laughter, “Their horses will start drinking from the sea before that happens.”

“Stranger things have happened in the past year alone.” Aegon chuckled, watching the workers at work. “Who‘s to say Dothraki horses won’t start drinking seawater.”

“Better they learn to eat the desert sand in the Red Waste than to covet the sea of Andalos.” said Jon.  

“We shall see soon enough.” Aegon hummed.

The following days were spent consolidating their position in the Velvet hills and ensuring the Dragon Pillars were erected along the shores of Rhoyne. Gathering more food from the villages and even the forests to sustain the army became a necessity once their supplies from Pentos started to dwindle due to heavy rain. The carts carrying their supplies were getting stuck in the muddy terrain thanks to heavy rain. The carts could only travel through Valyrian roads smoothly and those were hard to come by in Andalos.

So, it was a welcome gesture from the Braavosi to bring carts full of food and grains to their camp. They had the fortune of sending the consignment ahead of the rain, which made them reach the Velvet Hills far earlier than the Pentoshi supplies, which were still tied up in Ghoyan Drohe. But this generosity was not without its reason.

Aegon and Gael sat across from the Braavosi representatives inside their tent. His suspicion about their intent was proven true when they proposed an alliance against the Dothraki.

He eyed the two Braavosi representatives clad in sombre grey robes and Rickard Snow, a lean and battle-worn commander of the Company of the Rose. Aegon’s silence hung heavy in the air as the Braavosi spoke first. The elder of the two, a man named Tycho Varrus, bowed his head slightly. His voice was smooth and calculated, like the lapping waves of the Narrow Sea.

“Your Grace,” Tycho began, “we come not merely as envoys of Braavos but as voices of reason and prudence. The Dothraki menace grows unchecked in Andalos, their khalasars sweeping across the plains, burning villages, and desecrating temples. Even now, they edge closer to lands of greater consequence. It is in our shared interest to see this threat extinguished.”

Aegon leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

“Braavos has stood apart from interfering with the raiding khalasars for centuries,” he said, his tone sharp. “Why now does it seek to entangle itself in war with the Dothraki?”

The younger Braavosi, a wiry man named Maelos Arquin with keen brown eyes, leaned forward.

“Your action of purging the riding Dothraki khalasars has invited the ire of larger khalasars prowling the Great Grass Sea.” Maelos said, schooling his face not to show any emotion, “This threatens the interests of Braavos in the region and the Sealord is concerned more Dothraki khalasars crossing the Rhoyne could inevitably threaten Braavosi coastlands.”

“‘Twas not our intention to bring the threat of war to the borders of Braavos.” Gael said, her musical voice chiming with an innocent smile adorning her lips.  

“Nonetheless, your very strength attracts challenge. Your good intentions notwithstanding, the Dothraki have now turned their sights on Andalos. Prior to your arrival, only small khalasars raided this region. But now….” Maelos said with a hint of accusation hiding in between the words.

“We understand Braavos seeks its strategic advantage in this region. Surely, this is not just about the possible increase in Dothraki raids in the region.” Aegon said, staring intently at the Braavosi representatives.

Tycho and Maelos exchanged a look, engaging in a silent conversation before the came to a decision.

“Forgive me your grace. Your ties to the Pentoshi does worry the Sealord. One could not help but worry about what Pentos is planning with the help of two dragonlords.” Melos said.

“Braavos seeks no territory, no crown, and no titles. We seek stability. The Iron Bank has interests in Andalos, as do many of our merchant houses. A Dothraki rampage destabilises trade routes, cripples economies, and endangers the fragile balance of power in the region.” Tycho Varrus interjected, his tone measured.

“The way I see it, Braavos and Pentos have much to gain if the two could come to an understanding. It’s in both city’s interests to see the Dothraki stay east of Ghoyan Drohe.” Aegon suggested, knowing full well that Braavos preferred the Dothraki in the region so long as they were hounding Pentos.

Braavos and Pentos were regional rivals, and they had two widely different ideological bases leading their way forward. Both were naval powers with trade interests in the Narrow Sea. It’d be a miracle to make the two cities cooperate.

Aegon was now in a unique position to make the two cities cooperate. It was in their mutual interest to see him leave Andalos instead of consolidating his position in the region. The presence of the Company of Rose with the Braavosi delegation made it clear what they wanted. They wanted him gone as soon as possible.

“Then let me offer you a solution. I’m sure I can arrange for representatives from Pentos, and together, we can come to an amicable solution that addresses all of our interests.” Aegon offered.

“That’ll be a most generous offer, your grace.” Tycho immediately agreed with an eager look.

Aegon was happy to see some common ground between them. Now, all he had to do was play into the interests of Braavos and Pentos to extract the support he needed from the two cities. It was better said than done, but he believed he had a foolproof plan.

AN:

For artworks: https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf