Underneath the autumn sun, beside the crashing waves, Aegon watched the rising sun with an air of melancholy surrounding him. Even here upon the black sands of House Targayen's cradle, the haunting memories did not leave him. Standing out at the beaches of Dragonstone had become a morning ritual he came to cherish. Bathing underneath the cool morning air, skin and tunic wet from sea spray, hair dancing a soft waltz with the beachside gale.
It was perfect.
Here he was free from the expectations of his family.
Here he was safe from the machinations of the royal court.
Here he was simply Aegon, not an heir to house Targaryen.
Moments of peace were rare and far between; life in the Red Keep offered little rest to a royal prince of the realm. Much less the one who would one day usurp the supposed 'true' heir of his father, Viserys. Whether it was Rhaenyra's lackies or his mother's own brown-nosers. Sighing at the mention of his family and there would be disastrous dynamics - Aegon settled in the sand leaning against Sunfyre's rough scales sharing his dearest companion's warmth.
War was upon them, sooner than later dragons would dance casting flames and death upon the skies of Westeros. Death and destruction awaited, yet he had many years to prepare. It was 116 AC, a rather inconspicuous year with little happening in comparison to the hectic years to follow. Rhaenyra and her brood of bastards were still in King's Landing a boom in his opinion. Her residence upon Dragonstone would eventually spell doom to his cause, rather than her fleeing to the island he had taken a premature journey to the dreary volcano. Sunfyre was residing on Dragonstone until he was claimed by Aegon when he was three and ten.
His flight from the Red Keep and onto a merchant vessel caused quite the scandal upon the court. Ravens and even Rhaenyra and his cunt of an Uncle Daemon were dispatched to look for him. His father Viserys was rather wroth with him when he came gliding back upon Sunfyre's magnificent form, though his anger subsided in a matter of days as he threw a feast to celebrate the daring taming.
After the necessary scolding from his mother Alicent, his punishment was simply learning to care for Sunfyre as the Dragonkeepers did – a punishment he rather enjoyed. Caring for his beloved dragon was nothing short of cathartic.
"Come, Sunfyre it seems our peace has come to an end." He declared as the morning sun cast its rays upon the waters of Dragonstone, casting a hypnotic shimmer across the waste of waters.
Alicent:
Ever since her marriage to Viserys, her mornings had evolved rather significantly from her days as Rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting. Eyeing her reflection upon the viewing glass, she allowed the expert hands of her maids to secure her dress for the day. Her hair flowed easily behind her, like a molten river. Her gown was the finest of lace; its eye-catching green shining like the flames of the Hightower itself.
Once her gown was secure and her appearance nothing short of perfection, she thanked her maids as she greeted the normal hustle and bustle of the Red Keep. Servants of plenty busied themselves with the tasks expected of them, as she walked the halls' heads were bowed, and greetings were offered. She responded in kind, as expected of her station offering kindness and courtesies; she knew Rhaenyra would not.
Ser Criston, her ever present shadow followed a pace behind, his dark eyes scanning each face looking for trouble of any kind. Her children had been abed when she came to wake them, Aemond and Helaena were awoken from their chambers as an army of servants began prepping them for the day. Daeron, her youngest, was being attended by a wet nurse alongside the curly-haired bastard. Upon seeing her beloved child beside Jacaerys, she could not contain the curling of her lips as she buried the sneer behind a mother's kindness.
"Prince Daeron is hungry as ever, your grace." Came the dutiful whisper of the wet nurse.
"Thank you, Asha." Alicent replied, her gaze lingering from the bastard to her own child.
Daeron in her arms; she walked into the halls once more hoping to catch Aegon in his rooms. Yet, as she reached her firstborn room, her lips curled into a slight frown. The disappearance of Ser Erryk's familiar white cloak told her all she needed to know about her child's whereabouts. Since Aegon's bonding with Sunfyre he tended to soar well before first light, bemoaning when she first attempted to stop his new ritual. Ser Erryk had long been corrupted by Aegon's boyhood charms.
"Ser Criston, ride to the Dragonpit and once Aegon returns please bring him so we may break our fast – as a family." She commanded softly.
"Of course, your grace."
Sighing at Aegon's newest development, she could not bother to truly punish her child; Viserys himself insisted on allowing his morning flights to continue, reminiscing on his own days soaring the sky atop Balerion's legendary back.
Truth be told, Aegon's deepening bond with Sunfyre was frankly a positive thing. Rather than lusting after whores or vying for the mind-numbing delights of wine, Aegon simply desired to fly as much as possible. The strong bond Aegon held for Sunfyre was worth noting, according to the Dragonkeepers and Viserys himself. When she heard, the small satisfaction she felt stayed her hand.
Aegon:
Upon returning to King's Landing atop Sunfyre, he could spot the city come to life from the sky. Merchants, bakers, cooks, and other workers alike filled the streets as stalls were filled; wagons loaded, and coins began changing hands. Landing in the Dragonpit, Aegon easily slid off Sunfyre's back as his beautiful dragon was presented a small flock of sheep by the present Dragonkeeprs.
Joining him in a matter of moments was his familiar white shadow, followed by his mother's own sworn shield, Criston. Seeing the Kingmaker himself stirred a wave of sadness and resentment. His supposed Lord Commander had been among those in his small council who failed him yet remained steadfast in his cause.
"My Prince, Queen Alicent has requested you join her in breaking her fast." Ser Crison said, bowing his head.
He may have said 'request', but the command was there.
Nodding absentmindedly, Aegon turned to his own sworn shield as he smiled, "Ser Erryk, I have returned unscathed as promised."
"Indeed, you have, my Prince. Though I still wish you would do you not flyoff without me." Erryk responded.
"When Sunfyre grows larger, my goodman. When he grows much larger."
Aegon maintained that easy smile as he and the two Kingsguard exited the Dragonpit marching toward the horses and Targaryen guards who awaited them at the entrance. Mounted and galloping through the cobbled streets, shouts from the commonfolk greeted him as he returned them with a smile. Words and a charming smile brought more than they took; King's Landing had revolted against Rhaenyra when she eventually took the city. In case he fell once more, he'd at least make sure the commoners would rip Joffrey and his cunt of a sister's dragon again.
Still reeking of sweat and of dragon, Aegon gingerly sat as servants brought forth plates of food. Eating without much of a word, he kept his gaze lowered as his mother's heavy eyes lingered on his form. Once he ate his fill, he leaned against the plush chair allowing himself a moment of peace before the nagging began.
Like clockwork, Alicent cleared her throat and her gaze sharpened a degree, "Aegon, you must spend more time in the training yard. The lords and knights should see their prince's skill in arms."
Offering his mother a small, joyless smile Aegon chuckled softly, "My skills with a sword won't win me the throne, mother."
As if he had killed a man, his mother recoiled slightly as her face slackened at the carefree words he uttered without batting an eye. Servants alike shifted in the background, freezing in place refusing to make a sound. It was common knowledge the Greens and the Blacks both vied for the throne, yet their battles of words and alliances were behind a veil - both sides refused to openly speak of the throne, choosing to hide their ambition between courtly courtesies and empty smiles.
"Leave us." Aegon commanded the servants as he watched them flee the room; heads bowed, "Dragons will decide who wears the crown, mother. Skill in arms will do nothing against a dragon's fire."
Allowing herself to think on the words, Alicent spoke once more her voice hesitant, "War shall not come to pass, if we gather more allies Rhaenyra will have no choice but to surrender her claim."
"She would rather see the realm burn than surrender. Do you believe that cunt Corlys would be swayed when he is so close to the throne?" Aegon asked, taking a large gulp of the water, refusing to touch the wine, "What of Daemon? He will not allow grandsire's blood to sit on the throne unchallenged."
Wincing at Aegon's words, Alicent pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. Dragons would fight, and swords would be drawn; that much was without a doubt. Not counting Daemon, the Velaryon's possessed three dragons, two grown adults and the younger Seasmoke. Vhagar herself was among the enemies, so large she would not be brought down by Aegon's Sunfyre alone. Her other children who sat silently at their conversation, faces marred with uncertainty as the silent threat of the Blacks was uttered so brazenly.
"What we need is for Helaena to claim Dreamfyre and Daeron should claim a dragon from Dragonstone. Mayhap Silverwing or Vermithor."
"Grown dragons are dangerous, Aegon. Your brother is still young; a hatchling would be best." Alicent hissed her voice, strained with fear.
Before he could refute his mother, Aemond's voice interrupted their conversation. His voice quiet but demanding, "What about me, brother? What dragon should I claim?"
Eyeing Aemond's frowning face, Aegon offered him a measured smile. Aemond had yet to cause harm to him, to prevent that future his bother needed to be nurtured properly, "You will wait, Aemond."
"But-"
"Vhagar is still ridden by that cunt Laena. Once she's gone and forgotten, Vhagar will be there for you to claim."
Surprise erupted upon Aemond's face before a triumphant glee soon masked whatever was left.
"Once those Daemon's twins are born, she will birth a stillborn then die of childbed fever." Aegon said silencing whatever complaints Alicent would offer; the events of Driftmark still burned into his mind. When Aemond lost his eye and the first blood was spilt, whatever hopes of reconciliation died.
"How can you be so sure, Aegon." Alicent asked her brows furrowed with a mixture of doubt and confusion.
Noting his mother's disbelief, he could hardly say he read the horrors. Face squaring, he slackened his body and offered a shrug of indifference, "Daenys' dreams saved house Targaryen once."
Sliding off his seat, Aegon did not bother explaining any further. There was far too much to do and little time to accomplish before the dance began in earnest. He marched through the halls as Erryk silently followed. The soft rustling of his white cloak was the only indication of his presence.
Their short journey through the Red Keep ended in the tower of the hand, Hightower guards did not bother stopping him as he and Erryk climbed the stairs. Reaching the Hand's personal office, Aegon nodded to his sworn shield beckoning for him to wait. Throwing the door open, he strolled in without warning.
Dressed in the finest livery of his house, Otto Hightower sat behind a massive, ornate desk face furrowed in silent concentration. Mild surprise flashed across his aged visage as he noted his grandson's approach.
"Aegon, an unexpected pleasure." Otto began his voice filling the heavily decorated office, "What brings you here?"
Seating himself, Aegon shuffled into a comfortable position as he pondered the question in silence. Allowing a few moments to pass without a word, he studied the aged lord with intensity no child of nine name days should possess.
"You wish to crown me as king do you not, grandsire?"
Offering no reaction to the question, Otto folded his arms and leaned forward his face with a mask, "It is your birthright, Aegon. When Alicent birthed you, the iron throne belonged to you."
"Many would argue Rhaenyra is the rightful heir." Aegon mused deliberately, drawling out the words.
"She was proclaimed heir out of convivence, nothing more. In time, Viserys will see you as the rightful heir."
Chuckling at the statement, Aegon's face twisted into a sneer, "No, he won't. Rhaenyra birthing a bastard did not change his mind, do you truly believe he would with time?"
"Under King Jaehaerys, the Great Council of 101 established the precedent of male heirs inheriting before females. The great lords will not follow a queen when there is a perfectly capable prince in the line of succession."
What Otto said was sound, however it would never play out as he hoped. The Starks and the Arryns would raise Rhaenyra's banner without much prompting. Minor lords across the reach, his supposed powerbase would join his sister's cause. The only lords who would raise the original Aegon's banner without the need for bribes and betrothals would be the Lannisters and Hightowers as well as some minor houses in the reach.
"I will play the part of the good prince," Aegon began his tone leaving little for rebuttal, "However I require you locate someone for me."
Narrowing his eyes somewhat, Otto inclined his head in acceptance.
"However I require you locate someone for me."
Narrowing his eyes somewhat, Otto inclined his head in acceptance.
"A bastard smith from Dragonstone named Hugh."
"A smith, Aegon?" Otto muttered confusion littering in his voice, "Some of the world's finest reside in King's Landing, what does some no named bastard offer you?"
"It does not matter, I wish you to bring him under my service," Aegon said raising a single finger before he raised the second, "And I want Dragonstone, I do not care how you do it. Rhaenyra cannot be given control of the hatcheries and the dragonmont."
Pondering the request, Otto nodded slowly, acknowledging the importance of Dragonstone itself. If not for the sheer number of dragons that made the island home, the very seat offered legitimacy to Aegon's claim.
"The smith I can find easily, however convincing Viserys to grant you Dragonstone will take time."
Accepting with a smile, Aegon stood and made his way to the door, "Goodbye then, grandsire."
Leaning against his cushioned chair, Otto could not fight the smile which blossomed across his face. His grandson surprised him; the boy of nine was much smarter than he appeared. He held himself akin to a man grown instead of a child barely beginning his martial training. Dragonstone for now remained out of his and more importantly, Aegon's reach. However, if he planted the seed in Viserys head the moment to strike would come sooner than later.
Erryk:
For the longest time, his confirmation to the Kingsguard had been the highest honor. His knighthood had been earned by blood, sweat, and steel. The position among the greatest knights had been earned by honor and his dedication to the martial ways. King Viserys had assigned him as Prince Aegon's sworn shield, an honor in the eyes of many. He watched the young prince shed his boyhood indecencies into a fine lad, a good prince.
From complaining about the difficulties of swordplay, into a skilled swordsman for his age. His pursuit of the blade remained a hard journey, Aegon unlike others was not naturally talented with the sword – yet his young charge did not quit like he expected. Rather, within the confines of his chambers, Aegon shyly asked - not demanded - more lessons in private hoping to train away from the eyes of other squires and knights.
"Maintain your footwork, my Prince." He commanded as he waited for Aegon to scramble back onto his feet and into position once more.
Just like before, he caught Aegon off guard with a wide swing followed by a quick thrust of the blade. Unlike before, the young prince managed to steady his footwork. It was slow, but it was progress.
"One more time, Erryk."
"As you command, my Prince."