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Chapter Text

As far as Shireen can remember, this is her first visit to King’s Landing.

In truth, she had been here before, when her father introduced her to court after her birth. But back then, she was merely Lord Stannis’ firstborn daughter, unlikely to inherit anything; now, everything has changed.

It is inevitable. The issue of succession has troubled the realm for a decade, ever since Queen Lyanna seemed less likely to produce living children. Shireen’s father has diligently served on the small council for nearly half his life, first as the master of ships, then as the Hand after Lord Arryn’s death. Now, he is named heir to the Iron Throne, and Shireen returns to King’s Landing not as a mere lady, but as a princess destined to rule Westeros.

Initially, Shireen was excited by this drastic change in her life. Her mother told her she would become the most desirable maiden in the Seven Kingdoms. But after a week of constant attention and flattery, she is sick of it. She knows she is no Argella, no matter what everyone else says.

So it’s only natural that Shireen will spend her free time away from the court, away from the young lords and her new ladies-in-waiting, roaming Maegor’s Holdfast trying to find the best hiding spots.

That’s when she meets him.

From a corner of a rarely-traveled hall, a mop of silver hair and violet eyes appear.

Shireen stares back. This man—no, boy—is dressed too finely to be a servant, and she doesn’t recognize him.

“Who are you?” she demands, taking a brave step forward.

Leaning on the wall just behind the corner, the boy blinks rapidly, a wry smile forming on his lips. “You saw me,” he says, almost meaninglessly, “You caught me, well done. But I don’t recognize you, fair lady. You are—”

He pauses mid-sentence as his gaze drops from her face to her dress, where a stag is proudly embroidered. His eyes widen and his smile vanishes. “You’re... a Baratheon? No, wait, I remember now... Stannis’ daughter?”

“Yes, I’m Shireen Baratheon. Who are you?” Shireen repeats, frowning. Who in the Red Keep wouldn’t recognize her by sight?

Shireen quickly reviews the few houses in Westeros with known Valyrian heritage in her mind, but finds no matching face. This boy is certainly not a Velaryon or a Celtigar; she knows both houses well, as they are her father’s bannermen. But then, who else—

Her eyes fall on the black doublet he is wearing, and a small, insignificant red dragon pin enters her view.

Oh. Shireen’s eyes widen.

“Targaryen…?” 

“Oh no, you shouldn’t see me. I shouldn’t be here,” the Targaryen boy says, stepping backwards, “You know what? Actually, you never saw me. This is just a dream, no, a delusion.” Then he turns around and runs, shouting, “Seeing you never!”

“Wait!” Shireen chases after him, but finds no sign of the boy after turning the corner. The boy is gone, no matter where she looks. She spends the rest of her afternoon wandering around the halls in confusion until her septa finds her and brings her back for dinner.

A few days later, her father finally takes time to dine with her, so she asks a question that has been haunting her mind.

“Father, what happened to the Targaryens?”

Upon hearing the name ‘Targaryen,’ her father turns toward her, his gaze intense. “You know your history, Shireen. Robert killed Rhaegar himself, and the Mad King was killed when the Lannisters took the city. The rest of the Targaryens were taken into custody and kept in the Red Keep as hostages. Why do you ask?”

“I know that you took Dragonstone and secured the Targaryen children at the end of the war, but...” Shireen trails off, thinking of how to phrase the question, “Are they... still here now? Inside the Red Keep?”

“I didn’t just secure the children, their mother as well, although she died very soon. Robert rewarded me with Dragonstone in addition to Storm’s End for that,” Stannis corrects her, his eyes narrowing, “Why are you interested in that, Shireen? Why do you want to know where the Targaryens are located?”

“I...” Should she tell her father what she saw that day? From the boy’s reaction, it certainly seemed like he wasn’t permitted to wander around by himself. If he’s a hostage, he wouldn’t want anyone to know he has found a way to sneak out of confinement...

But from what she remembered, he wasn’t armed, nor did he have any intention to harm her. Perhaps he wasn’t a Targaryen at all, but a servant boy who stole the old Targaryen garb for himself?

At the very least, if he’s a Targaryen, he didn’t escape from the Red Keep. This isn’t the kind of news that could be hidden; all in King’s Landing would know.

Perhaps... if she can arrange a meeting with the Targaryens, she will have no misgivings about the situation. “If I’m to inherit the Iron Throne one day, father, then it’ll be important to ensure there won’t be people raising banners for the Targaryens. I have met so many important lords and heirs since I arrived here, I think it’s time for me to meet with them.”

Stannis huffs, “Those children grew up in confinement and should remember no life outside the Red Keep; they’re hardly a threat.”

“But wasn’t Rhaegar’s wife Elia of Dorne? Wouldn’t Prince Doran prefer his nephew and niece on the Iron Throne instead?”

“No doubt, he would. The Dornish hold no love for Robert. But Prince Doran isn’t foolish enough to rise when the situation is hopeless. Instead, he chooses to court us, hoping that one day he can arrange the release of Elia and her child.”

“Court us... sending Trystane to court me.” The Martell boy is only two years older than Shireen and the most highborn of her suitors. Shireen doesn’t know him well enough to form an opinion, but he’s at least better than Ser Loras, who told Shireen he disliked reading.

“Yes. It’s not a bad match, but we still have some consideration. You shouldn’t show preference for any of them at the moment,” Stannis briefly pauses, giving Shireen a warning look, “If you have the idea of reuniting the claims by marrying a Targaryen, perish the thought.”

Shireen never thought about that. “I didn’t,” she quickly clarifies, “I only want to meet them... to see if we can be friends.”

“Is the company of your ladies and those lordlings not enough?”

“They’re... too eager to please me.” Lowering her head, she tries to avoid Stannis’ piercing gaze, “I miss my ladies in Stormlands. I miss Daven and Patches, I miss Maester Cressen.”

Her answer must be unexpected, as her father’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Pycelle is indeed unpleasant company compared to Cressen,” he says, “but the old man is too frail to travel to King’s Landing. Robert’s court will not take kindly to Patchface’s antics, but I shall write to bring your friends here. Don’t mention the Targaryens again, especially not in the presence of the King and Queen.”

“Thank you, father.” Shireen is grateful for the arrangement Stannis promises to make, but she still hasn’t gotten what she wants.

And so she starts to explore the Red Keep again. She dare not ask around for the location of the Targaryens, lest her father hears, but she sometimes hears her maids and other servants gossiping.

The Targaryens aren’t a hot topic among those working in the Red Keep. Mostly, the men and women have lost interest in King’s Landing’s old masters. Their favorite topics, apart from Shireen herself and her suitors, are the gory stories of Queen Lyanna’s family or the mysterious deaths of the previous Hand and the master of coin. Shireen isn’t interested in those stories. There’s only one rumor that’s related to what she’s seeking:

The Phantom of the Red Keep.

The Red Keep has a gruesome history, from Maegor the Cruel who killed all its builders and buried them under the castle, to the more recent burnings by the Mad King. It’s no surprise there are ghost stories, yet the rumors Shireen hears are more... precise.

Although no one can say for certain who the Phantom is, all agree that he exists. He haunts the Red Keep, its halls and its stairs, its courtyards and its cellars. Few have seen him, but many have heard him; a remark that couldn’t come from anyone in the room, laughter from empty walls, footsteps when nobody was following. He seems to be everywhere.

From the tales, the Phantom is fairly harmless, more of a prankster than a vengeful ghost. Those few who caught a glimpse of him describe a figure identical to the boy Shireen saw: Valyrian features, young, fit, and well-dressed.

No one makes the connection between the Phantom and the two Targaryen boys held hostage in the Red Keep, but to Shireen, it’s obvious. As for how they escape confinement... Perhaps the secret passages Maegor once committed a massacre to protect is the answer.

It takes a few months, but eventually Shireen catches him. It’s not in the same hallway she saw him last time, but in the Tower of the Hand, where her father resides. She has heard sightings of him here.

“I saw you, Phantom of the Red Keep,” she says when she sees the boy hiding behind a door. They’re in a small, abandoned room with nobody else. Shireen’s heart threatens to leap out of her chest, yet she keeps her tone calm, “Please come out, whoever you really are. I won’t tell anyone if you do so.”

“Lady, no, Princess Shireen.” The boy leaves his hiding place with a smile. Fingers idly stroking his chin, he appears unfazed, very different from last time. He even bows with some flourish. “Fate brought us together again. How can I help you?”

“How did you—” Shireen wants to ask him his escape method, but realizes he’s unlikely to tell her. Shaking her head, she decides to confirm her suspicions first. “What is your true name?”

“Well,” his smile deepens, “Have a guess?”

“...Aegon.” The boy is not much older than her, so he can’t be Viserys, who was a child during the rebellion. “Aegon Targaryen.”

“You’re right, that’s my name,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “but...”

“But you don’t plan to escape?” Shireen asks, somewhat forcefully, “Is that what you are going to say?”

“...Although it seems you have done your research, I fear you still have some misconceptions.” Aegon shakes his head slightly, “First, I can’t possibly escape. Like it or not, the Red Keep is my home. Leaving is out of the question.”

“You don’t want to leave...?” Shireen is shocked, but it makes sense when she thinks about it. Aegon’s behavior isn’t that of someone trying to escape and claim his crown. The Phantom is playful, not vengeful...

If reclaiming the Iron Throne were his goal, he would never appear before Shireen like that.

But then...

“Why did you come here, then?” Shireen’s face darkens, “You’re playing with fire. If the king or my father sees you, they won’t be merciful. You must know that.”

Aegon chuckles quietly, “It’s questionable whether they could see me at all.”

Before Shireen can ask what he means, he adds, “No, I don’t think they’ll find me. I have been wandering the halls of the Red Keep for years, earning a reputation, yet no Kings or Hands have tried to seek me out. No one ever linked the Phantom to me... except you.”

“My lady— I mean, your highness, you’re the only one who tried to research me. Now that we meet again, I figure the least I could do is give you some answers.”

Shireen narrows her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly claim that you came here to see me.” She doesn’t trust Aegon, not when he acts like he’s some gallant knight. Besides... “I don’t come here regularly; my chambers are in Maegor’s Holdfast. If you wanted to meet me, you should have gone there instead.”

“Oh.” Aegon widens his eyes, “Oh, huh. Well...” he smiles brilliantly, “I managed to meet you anyway. Perhaps that’s fate—”

“Are you flirting with me?” Shireen interrupts, rolling her eyes, “Please, that won’t work. I have been dealing with men like you every day since I came here.”

“...You do, don’t you?” Aegon’s question seems more to himself than to Shireen. Looking bitter for a moment, he then laughs, loud enough for Shireen to fear someone will hear. “My apologies, princess. Flirting is a habit I’m trying to break, but it’s hard... If my uncle knew, he would have me beaten again.”

Shireen raises a brow. “Uncle?” She can only think of one man. “You mean Viserys? He beats you?”

“Not my— no, not him.” For some reason, this makes Aegon giggle. “I don’t mean my uncle by birth. In fact, he’s barely related to me, but I call him uncle because the alternative is his name or his title. Can’t bring myself to say them.”

“You mean...” The hints form a definite answer in Shireen’s mind. An answer she doesn’t like. “The King?!”

Aegon shakes his head.

“It’s ‘the king,’ yes, but it’s not—”

“Shireen? What are you doing here?”

Shireen turns around. Her mother stands tall, blocking the whole doorway, a frown on her face. “If your father summoned you, you should hurry instead of hiding in a room and talking to shadows.”

“Mother, but...” Shireen sneaks a peek behind her, but Aegon has disappeared like smoke.

Talking to shadows, her mother said.

That means her mother didn’t see Aegon.

But he was in the middle of the room a second ago...

Startled, Shireen runs out of the room. “Where are you going, young lady?” Selyse asks, grabbing her arm firmly.

Shireen doesn’t care about the lecture she’ll certainly receive later. The only thing she cares about now is Aegon. Behind her mother, she sees her father’s guards and her mother’s ladies, so she asks, “Did all of you see me in that room... alone?”

“Shireen!” Her mother pulls her, making Shireen stand straight and face her, “Stop this nonsense. Of course you’re alone in that room!”

Behind Selyse, people nod, looking confused and worried. Shireen’s teeth start chattering.

She might have made a huge mistake.

—

“Father!” rushing into Stannis’ solar, Shireen cries out, “Please, tell me the truth!”

Stannis glares at her, “You didn’t knock. But if you’re so urgent to get an answer... elaborate.”

“What happened…” panting, Shireen leans forward, her hands on Stannis’ desk, “What happened to Aegon Targaryen, after he was taken into custody?”

Stannis frowns.

“That boy? He—”

Chapter Text

“That boy? He’s dead.”

Shireen freezes, her face turning pale.

“…Dead?”

“It was a long time ago, a childhood fever.” Stannis shakes his head slowly. “It’s no secret. We didn't hide it from the Martells. It was better for Princess Elia to deliver the news to her brother. They might blame Robert, but we had nothing to do with the boy’s death.”

Then what did I see? Who did I talk to?

“But… then… I…” Shireen stammers, trying to stop her teeth chattering by pressing her palms to her jaw, but the noise persists, echoing like cursed music.

A piece of music matching the terrifying revelation she received.

The Phantom. He… he’s…

—You saw me.

—It’s questionable whether they could see me at all.

…He never expected Shireen to see him, as most people couldn't see ghosts.

That’s why there are very few reports of sightings of the Phantom…

“Shireen, what happened to you?” Stannis asks, standing up and grabbing her shoulders. “What caused this obsession with the Targaryens?”

“Father, I… I think I saw him.” Shireen looks up, her eyes wide. “Aegon, that is… I saw his ghost. He’s the Phantom of the Red Keep.”

“The Phantom of the Red Keep?” 

Shireen spends the next thirty minutes frantically explaining her findings. Her thoughts are a jumbled mess, and halfway through, her mother enters the room, forcing Shireen to start over. Eventually, she manages to convey everything.

When she finishes, Stannis immediately orders, “Shireen, I want you to move out of Maegor’s Holdfast right now. Selyse, I’ll send for Pycelle to check on Shireen. Stay with her and arrange her move until everything is settled.”

“Where are you going?” Selyse asks as her husband leaves the room.

“To arrange a search of the whole Red Keep,” Stannis answers, halfway out the door. “More guards will be assigned to you two. Don’t leave the tower until I return.”

There’s no arguing with Stannis, so Shireen moves to another chamber in the Tower of the Hand, her mother holding her hand the entire time. “Ghosts don’t exist,” Selyse keeps saying. “You’ve been hearing too many ghost stories.”

“But…” Shireen shivers. “He talks to me. He’s real.”

“Your father will find out if someone is playing tricks on you and punish them. I’ll make sure of it,” Selyse promises, sounding so certain that Shireen almost believes her.

Yet, Shireen saw how Aegon disappeared. Could it really be a trick?

Soon, Pycelle arrives to examine her. He finds nothing wrong, but under Selyse’s pressure, he gives Shireen a drink. “It will help with calmness and clarity of mind,” he claims.

Shireen doesn’t feel she needs the drink, but she takes it anyway at her mother’s urging. It makes her sleepy, and she falls into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes, it’s near sunset. A meal is brought into her chambers, and she eats while her mother updates her on the situation. The king and her father have ordered a lockdown of the Red Keep, trying to uncover who “Aegon” is. But Shireen is certain they won’t find him.

How do you find a ghost who doesn’t want to be found?

The search goes on for a month, but no signs of “Aegon” are found. All Valyrian-looking boys in the Red Keep are brought before Shireen, but none of them is the Aegon she met.

With the reluctant agreement of the King, a meeting between Shireen and the remaining Targaryens is held. For the first time, Shireen sees Viserys, Daenerys, and Rhaenys Targaryen.

They are the saddest people Shireen has ever met.

Viserys’ lips are set in a firm line of displeasure throughout the meeting. His words are few, but Shireen can see the fear in his eyes. He has been fearing for his and his sister’s lives every second.

He couldn’t be more different from the carefree Aegon Shireen met.

Daenerys hides behind her brother the entire time. Occasionally, Shireen catches Daenerys eying her with curiosity, but the spark in her eyes quickly fades. Despite being older than Shireen, her actions are childlike.

...Because of the captivity and lack of education, Shireen realizes.

Rhaenys keeps a stone face, her violet eyes empty. She shows little interest in Shireen’s words, displaying no hatred or enthusiasm during the conversation. “I don’t remember Aegon,” she says when Shireen finishes. “There’s only me and my mother, sometimes Viserys and Dany.”

She’s too young to remember her brother, Shireen thinks, and too young to remember not being a hostage.

Princess Elia eyes Shireen with distrust at first, but as Shireen continues her tale, the hostility gradually fades. Before the end of the meeting, she places a hand on Shireen’s, leans forward, and whispers:

“If you really saw my son’s ghost… How… How is he?”

Shireen hears the desperation in her voice and cannot refuse to relieve a grieving mother. “He looks happy. A bit resigned, but… happy.”

When Shireen sees Elia’s reaction, she knows this moment will stay with her for a long time.

The search for Aegon might be fruitless, but Stannis’ efforts yield unexpected results—several hidden passages are found throughout the Red Keep, including one inside the Tower of the Hand.

“There’s an entrance near the room where you saw that intruder,” Stannis informs Shireen. “It leads up to my solar and down into the city streets. We are investigating the possibility of someone outside the Red Keep pretending to be Aegon Targaryen.”

Hesitantly, Shireen nods. It explains how Aegon managed to disappear so suddenly, perhaps… But is this the true answer? Is Aegon really an impostor?

Deep in Shireen’s mind, she doubts it.

Six months later, Shireen moves back into Maegor’s Holdfast, although to a different set of chambers as her old ones are deemed unsafe. On her first night there, she lies down, her eyes wide open. Somehow, she knows what’s going to happen.

She knows who’s going to come.

Deep in the night, she hears a voice through the walls. “Princess,” Aegon quietly calls, “Princess, are you awake? It’s… it’s me. Aegon.”

Shireen immediately sits up and grabs the object on her dresser. “Yes, I am.” She looks around but sees no Valyrian boy. “Where are you? Show yourself.” She knows that one of her ladies is sleeping next to the only door of the room. Aegon can’t come in without being discovered unless there’s an unfound hidden passage here.

Or…

“Gladly,” Aegon replies and enters the room through the wall beside her bed. By the pale moonlight, Shireen can see how his body passes through the stone wall effortlessly. “I hope you aren’t too spooked by this way of meeting. Sadly, seeing you during daylight isn’t an option now.”

“I’m not afraid,” Shireen declares, and strangely, the moment she says it out loud, she feels that it’s true. “I’d be more afraid if you were truly a human intruder, as my father theorized. A man with flesh can hurt me more than a ghost.”

“You’re so sure, even if you have no means of knowing whether you’re correct,” Aegon chuckles lightly. “I admire that boldness. A Baratheon trait, perhaps?”

“It is. But I do have means of knowing.” Shireen looks at him pointedly. “Prove me wrong if you can.”

Aegon shakes his head. “Far, far too bold by half. What would you do if I tried to strangle you with my ghostly power?”

Shireen actually has an answer to that. The dagger she grabbed when Aegon appeared. After insisting her ladies not sleep in the same room as her, Shireen was given this dagger as a safeguard. She doubts she will have a chance to use it, though.

“You never meant harm to me,” she says with absolute certainty.

Aegon laughs. “You’re right. I can’t bring myself to hurt a sweet, brave lady like you.” He steps closer to her, and Shireen notices that he makes no sound as he approaches. “And it’s true that I can’t harm you even if I wanted to.”

He’s close, close enough to touch Shireen. Slowly, he extends a hand towards her, and Shireen feels compelled to match. Their fingertips near each other, yet…

They overlap, without touching. Shireen waves her arm, reaching her hand to his chest—but still nothing. All she can feel is the cold air of night.

“You can’t touch me, and I can’t touch you.” Aegon demonstrates by wrapping his fingers around her throat in a mock attempt at strangulation. His fingers pass right through her, and she doesn’t feel a thing. “The negatives of being dead.”

Shireen raises a brow. “You want to strangle me if you’re able to?”

"No," he says with a straight face. "I want to touch your hand if I’m able to."

Shireen bites her lip, suppressing the urge to giggle. She refuses to be a silly maiden—she's too important for that. "I thought you said you're trying not to flirt, or your 'uncle' would beat you."

"Yes, but he’ll also beat me if he finds out I sneak out to meet you." Sitting at the edge of her bed, Aegon flashes a dazzling smile. "So it doesn’t matter."

Shireen shifts, making space for Aegon without getting too close. She won't fall for his charm or reveal the dagger in her hand. "You still haven’t explained who this 'uncle' is."

"You really want to know?" Aegon smiles wryly. "He’ll kill me again. Very well—he's Maegor."

Shireen blinks. "…What?"

"My 'uncle'. He’s Maegor the Cruel, designer of the Red Keep, eternal king of the Throne." Seeing Shireen’s expression, Aegon chuckles. “If I knew he was here all the time, I would have tried my best to get away from this castle while I was alive. Oh well.”

“But he’s dead?”

"He’s as dead as I am. But I’m still here, aren’t I?" Aegon sighs. "It’s a long story, but the short version is that Maegor cursed the Red Keep when he built it. With all the lives he sacrificed, he ensured he would 'live' inside the Keep after death and rule over all the unfortunate souls who died after him."

Maegor the Cruel... it sounds outrageous, but Aegon's existence as a ghost is already unbelievable. What Aegon says makes sense, but she still has questions.

"Everyone who died after him became his subject? That’s Maegor’s curse?" Shireen doesn't want to become Maegor’s subject if she can avoid it.

"No, there are two specific conditions for a soul to be trapped by him." Aegon starts counting. "One, the person must die within the grounds of the Red Keep. Two, the person must be descended from Aenys Targaryen, Maegor’s brother."

"…Ah. So it's a curse meant to extend his life and punish Jaehaerys and his offspring." Maegor must have known he was unpopular and likely to be replaced by his nephew, so he created a curse as a precaution.

"Indeed," Aegon nods. "Most of my family has suffered under Maegor, with the majority of us dying in the Red Keep."

"All those Targaryens still live somewhere in this castle?" Shireen asks, curious. "The Conciliator, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unlikely? Oh, and that means…" She shivers. "Aerys the Mad is somewhere out there too…"

"Aerys is here, but Maegor has him chained deep underground. You won’t find him wandering the halls like I do, don’t worry," Aegon chuckles. "But no, I haven’t seen Jaehaerys the Conciliator since I died. Apparently, even Maegor’s curse has limits. If a ghost truly loses all interest in life and has no regrets, they’ll fade away like other people do. Maegor can’t chain a soul forever."

Shireen nods. Aegon died as a child, so it's no surprise he clings to this second life. "With the mess the Dance made, it’s hard to imagine Jaehaerys having no regrets."

Aegon shrugs. "I can’t know what that man thought, I never met him. Maybe returning to a teenage body one last time was enough for him?"

"Returning to a teenage body?" Shireen looks Aegon up and down. “Just like how you look older than me despite when you died?”

"Oh, right," Aegon says, clapping his head. "We all return to our prime after dying. So we all look like teens… but don’t be fooled, most ghosts here have lived long lives, both in life and death."

"Thanks for the advice… but I haven’t met any other ghosts besides you." Shireen glances at Aegon. "I guess you’re the only one who defies Maegor’s orders and interacts with the living?"

Aegon whistles innocently. “I’m not like Aerys who suffers Maegor’s rage, but even so, life with only a few Targaryens to talk to is boring. Maegor doesn’t even care that I get around until… well, until you told your father about me, which led to his secret passages being discovered.”

"I’m not apologizing for that," Shireen glares at him. "You scared me. I thought I was talking to a living person!"

"Ahaha, I didn’t realize bold Shireen could be afraid." Aegon laughs, reaching out to caress her hair.

His fingers pass right through her black hair. Shireen sees Aegon frowning sadly but pretends not to notice. Instead, she changes the subject. "So the secret passages my father found were built by Maegor?"

To her surprise, Aegon shakes his head. "No, not all of them. The one in the Tower of the Hand wasn’t Maegor’s; it was built by a later Hand of the King… from what I heard, that man is dead too."

Shireen is about to question him, but Aegon quickly says, "Anyway… I want you to know something important. The secret passages your father uncovered are just a small part of what Maegor built underground. Beneath the Red Keep, there’s another world hosting the dead. Maegor will never let the Baratheons invade his realm… but I can tell you some of the secret passages your father hasn’t found."

Shireen eyes him suspiciously. "Why would you do that?"

"Because," Aegon smiles, "I want to see you again. And it’s not safe for us to meet anywhere else but those passages."

This time, Shireen blushes. "We… we aren’t safe here?" She hates that she’s stammering, hates that her question sounds stupid. Of course, they aren’t safe here. Her lady-in-waiting outside the door could wake any moment.

Aegon sees her gaze drifting to the door. "Not if we don’t want to be discovered, no." He leans closer and whispers, "It’s best if we don’t trigger another castle search. Don’t mention me to your parents again, and if you want to see me, just come to…"

Shireen listens intently, trying to memorize the locations he mentions. When she notices her face is wet, she initially thinks Aegon has finally sneaked a kiss on her cheek, but then she realizes it’s her own tears.

She looks at him, but he’s gone, leaving a room where sunlight is starting to shine.

—

Shireen has hesitated. She doesn’t explore the secret passages Aegon told her about, not immediately. It’s dangerous, and she’s always occupied anyway…

But as time passes and her parents relax their vigilance, she finds herself alone more often, her mind drifting towards Aegon. If I feel alone here surrounded by everyone, he must be even lonelier…

Finally, one day, Shireen can't restrain herself anymore. Running downstairs and through tunnels, she reaches a place where the sounds of the living fade away. No one will find her here except... the dead.

“Aegon?” she calls out.

At first, there's no response. Just as she thinks he won’t appear, a voice emerges from the depths of the tunnels. “You came. You really came.”

Shireen walks deeper into the tunnel and sees a face she holds dear in her heart. “You thought I wouldn’t come after you told me to?”

“It’s been a while since we last talked.”

“I’ve been busy. Being a princess…” She shakes her head, not wanting to vent her frustration to Aegon— not when he could have been a living prince if not for the circumstances between their families. “It doesn’t leave much chance for me to come here.”

“Understandable.” Aegon nods, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’ll always be around whenever you call for me within these tunnels.”

This leads to a discussion about Aegon’s hearing range. The ghosts are not omnipresent, he explains, and have little ability to hear news within the castle unless they are physically present—except when their name is mentioned within the secret passages.

“It’s part of my uncle’s curse to protect his realm, I believe,” Aegon explains. Shireen notices he’s using “my uncle” to refer to Maegor again. It’s because Maegor will know if his name is mentioned. “He probably didn’t imagine us ghosts he trapped would be using it to our benefit.”

Their talks don’t last long, as Shireen can only disappear for brief periods before someone notices. But she always comes back, even if only for ten minutes to share with Aegon.

“How is it that you lean on the wall now,” Shireen asks one time, “but you passed right through it when you appeared?”

“This is a good question.” Aegon ponders thoughtfully before answering. “I’m not sure, but when I came to meet you, I was aware I was travelling and passed through the wall knowing it was the fastest path. But now that I’m inside the tunnels, my instinct is to lean on the wall.”

“So you can control whether you pass through objects or not?” Shireen is fascinated.

“I think so. But only with bigger objects like walls, floors, and furniture. I can’t touch anything else… I can’t touch you.” Once again, Aegon extends a hand towards her head. His fingers linger on her cheek, yet Shireen can’t feel a thing.

Slowly, she raises her own hand to match his. Her hand is smaller, but she tries her best to fit hers to his until they completely overlap. She touches her own cheek, imagining the warmth coming from Aegon.

A droplet of tears drips down.

“I… I have been betrothed to Ser Loras Tyrell,” she blurts out. “I won’t marry until I’m older, but…”

“Marriage has no bearing on romance,” he whispers. “Especially not when the object of your affection is a ghost.”

They share a sad, bitter smile. It’s the reality of their situation, Shireen knows.

Maiden above… how is it that of all the men she could fall in love with, she has fallen for a ghost?

—

“If no one else can see you anyway, is there really a need for us to meet down here?” Shireen asks, the question swirling in her mind for a while. “Only a select few can see ghosts, right?”

Aegon nods. “It’s very rare for people to be able to see us. Only those with dragon blood in their veins, and even then, they might not have the ability. It can still happen, though—your father and your uncles, or any servants with a drop of dragon blood. I would rather not take the risk.”

“Ah, so that’s why there are a few sightings of the Phantom.” Shireen ponders. “There are many stories of people hearing you… I guess dragon blood is only a requirement for seeing, not hearing?”

“Yes, but—”

Aegon’s answer is interrupted by a loud noise somewhere above them. Looking at each other, they rush up the stairs—

…And come face to face with a pair of siblings.

“You’re…” the Valyrian man shouts fearfully, “Shireen Baratheon!”

“Viserys and… Daenerys?” Shireen asks. “How did you two get out—”

“Who are you?!” Panting heavily, Viserys points his sword toward Aegon. “No one should know this secret passage… and you’re with the Baratheons…”

“Viserys… he has a dragon pin on his doublet,” Daenerys whispers from behind her brother’s back, “A red, three-headed dragon.”

The air freezes as Shireen watches Viserys’ eyes widen, realization shining as violet eyes gleam. “You’re the impostor of my nephew,” he hisses. “You’re the fake Aegon.”

“It’s not what you think,” Aegon says, his face pale white. “I’m not—”

Viserys plunges his sword forward.

The blade passes through Aegon’s body effortlessly. Viserys seems surprised by the lack of resistance, and he tries to pull back, but it’s too late—

…As the tip of the sword cuts deep into Shireen’s chest.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” In horror, Viserys drops his blade, stepping back. Daenerys pulls his sleeve, shaking, and they run, fleeing from Shireen and Aegon.

Leaving Shireen to her death.

“Shireen!” Aegon kneels beside her, holding her hand—or he would be, if he weren’t a ghost. “Shireen, don’t…”

“Aegon,” her lips shiver, “I’m… afraid… I don’t want to… die here…”

“I’ll… I’ll save you!” he cries out. “I’ll find a way… I…”

He starts whispering then, desperate words that Shireen doesn’t understand. High Valyrian, perhaps, Shireen thinks in her muddled brain. Why are you talking nonsense when all I want from you is comfort?

She has no strength left to protest. She can only lie there helplessly… until death claims her.

But there’s one thing Shireen has forgotten.

In the Red Keep, death isn’t necessarily the end—

—

“Shireen,” Aegon calls her name, “Are you awake?”

“…Aegon?” Shireen looks at him, then at herself. The cold, the pain, the wound on her chest—they’re all gone. She’s whole again, as if their encounter with Viserys never happened.

“I’m… alive?”

“No,” Aegon lowers his head. “You’re dead. Just like…” He takes a deep breath, “Just like how I am.”

Their eyes meet, and Shireen understands. She reaches out for his hand—and holds it firmly.

“I’m a ghost now. A Phantom… just like you… under the rule of the eternal king.” Shireen can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she knows they’re true.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to keep you alive… but I knew I could keep you with me, as you are a descendant of Aenys Targaryen too.” Aegon shakes his head. “If you don’t want to… I mean…”

“I was dying. You had no other means to save me. And most importantly…” Shireen embraces Aegon, tightly. “I can finally touch you. I can hug you! I have always wanted to…”

“…Me too.” Aegon returns her embrace, wrapping his arms around her. “To have you in my arms…”

Words are unnecessary between them. They stay like that for a long moment, until a sound comes from beneath. “Aegon!” The blooming voice is almost inhuman, but Shireen can still figure out the words, “Bring the girl here, to swear fealty to her king!”

“King… Maegor?” Shireen blurts out.

“There’s no way he wouldn’t know a new soul is dragged into his realm,” Aegon whispers bitterly, letting go of her. “I don’t think he’s especially angry at you, that’s just how he usually is.”

“Then we should get going. Better not give him a reason to get angry at me,” Shireen says, but Aegon isn’t moving. “Aegon?”

He stares at her.

“There’s something I need to tell you before Maegor does,” he speaks quickly and quietly. “I’m… I’m not the man you think I am, Shireen. I’m not an innocent babe who died as a child.”

Shireen frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not Aegon, son of Rhaegar and Elia. I’m… another Aegon Targaryen. In history.”

Another Aegon.

In history.

Aegon the Uncrowned? Aegon the Second? Aegon the Dragonbane? The Unworthy? The Unlikely?

When Shireen stares at Aegon, her eyes widen, she recalls the conversation they had together.

—You’re right, that’s my name. But…

When she named him Aegon, he had wanted to say something.

—My apologies, princess. Flirting is a habit I’m trying to break.

Why would a ghost have a habit of flirting if he died as a child?

—So we all look like teens… but don’t be fooled, most ghosts here have lived long lives, both in life and death.

…He was including himself there, wasn’t he?

Biting his lips, Aegon whispers, “I never meant to lie to you, and I never did. But you had assumptions, and you formed an opinion of me based on them. I didn’t want to break it…”

…He isn’t who Shireen thinks he is. But…

“I have done bad things in life. Maegor punished me for it, for ruining the realm… it was only when Aerys came around that I was released. I have changed since then, I really did, but I didn’t want you to know about it… you’d surely hate me then.” Taking a deep breath, Aegon says, “I can’t hide it anymore. I’m Aegon, the—”

Shireen silences him with her palm. “Enough,” she smiles at him. “I never knew the real Aegon, only you. Do you think it matters to me whether you’re the son of Rhaegar or not? I love you, no matter which Aegon you are.”

Aegon’s jaw falls open. “You… you don’t mind? Truly?”

Shireen nods.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

And so they do. He takes her hand, bringing her towards a throne of skulls…

But no matter how horrifying the king sitting on it is, Shireen isn’t afraid.

Because she can hold his hand now.