Dragonstone, Queen Alysanne's Chambers
A soft knock echoed against the thick oak door, barely audible over the wind battering the ancient stone walls of Dragonstone.
"Leave me alone," came a tired voice from inside, low, worn, not angry but weary. It was the voice of a woman who had lost something too deep to name.
"It's me, Grandmother," said Aegon, standing on the other side. His silver hair fell past his shoulders, slightly tousled from the sea breeze, his violet eyes bright but uncertain.
There was a long pause. Then the door creaked open slightly.
Queen Alysanne Targaryen stood within, her frame thinner than he remembered, her once proud shoulders now slouched in quiet sorrow.
Her silver hair, still regal, seemed duller in the flickering torchlight. The light that used to burn behind her eyes had dimmed.
"What is it, Aegon?" she asked softly, managing a faint smile.
Aegon hesitated, then said with boyish stiffness, "Nothing. It's time for dinner."
He looked up at her, trying to sound casual, but he'd overheard the maids whispering, that the Queen had refused most of her meals, that she barely left her chambers, that she'd spent days now in silence, surrounded by memories.
Since he had arrived at Dragonstone to accompany her, he had tried to be quiet, respectful, but worry gnawed at him.
"I'm not hungry," Alysanne murmured, turning away and stepping back inside. "But thank you, sweet boy."
She moved to sit by the hearth, her motion slow, her limbs tired. The chair creaked faintly as she settled. Aegon followed her in, gently closing the door behind him.
The room was dim, lit by a single cluster of candles near the fire.
Aegon approached her, then sat beside her, "Me too," he said softly.
Alysanne looked over at him. "Me too?"
"I'm not hungry either," he added, eyes downcast.
But even as he said it, his stomach betrayed him with a loud, unmistakable gurgle.
The sound broke the stillness like a pebble tossed into a pond.
Aegon stiffened, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Alysanne blinked, then a true smile crept across her face.
A smile with warmth, however fragile. She reached out and gently touched his silver hair, brushing it back.
"Well," she said, her voice steadier now, "it seems one of us is lying."
Aegon grinned sheepishly.
For the first time in days, Alysanne laughed, a quiet laugh, tinged with sadness but real. She looked down at the scroll spread across her lap.
One painted figure showed Prince Aemon, as a child, riding on a tiny wooden dragon carved by a craftsman from Driftmark.
"He was smaller than you when he first tried to climb onto his dragon," she murmured. "Thought he could fly before he could ride. Nearly broke his leg jumping off the stairs."
Aegon tilted his head with a smile.
"I told him if he wanted to fly so badly, he'd best grow wings." She smiled to herself. "He didn't speak to me for two days."
She traced her finger gently over her son's name inked in the scroll, Aemon Targaryen, the pride of her heart, now reduced to words and memory.
Aegon sat quietly, letting the silence sit between them like a shared cloak. There was nothing he could say to fix the hollow in her chest, but he stayed, and that was enough.
The candles flickered. Outside, the wind howled faintly across the cliffs. The sea raged as it always did, unconcerned with the grief of queen.
Then, with a sigh and a smile tugging at her lips again, Alysanne said, "Come. Let's go find something to eat before your stomach betrays you again."
Aegon stood up quickly, then offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation.
Together, they walked slowly down the torchlit corridor, past carved dragon sconces and cold stone arches, toward the dining hall.
The long stone table had only three places set tonight. The hall, once built to host lords and dragonlords alike, echoed softly with the clink of silverware and the quiet crackle of torches.
Lady Jocelyn, widow of Prince Aemon, sat near the head, eating slowly. Her movements were graceful, even though her eyes seemed distant.
Grief rested on her shoulders like a worn shawl, but she bore it with dignity.
She was dressed simply, but her dark hair framed her face in elegant waves, and her beauty, even in mourning, was impossible to miss.
The creak of the doors opening drew her eyes up.
Queen Alysanne entered, arm in arm with young Prince Aegon. Jocelyn blinked, surprised. The Queen had barely left her chambers since arriving at Dragonstone, and certainly not for meals.
Her face lit with something between relief and nervousness, and she made herself stand.
But the Queen gave her a soft smile and a small shake of the head.
"Please, Jocelyn. Sit."
Jocelyn nodded and eased back into her chair. As maids swept forward to serve roasted fish, greens, and black bread, Aegon and Alysanne quietly took their seats.
For a while, the only sounds were of quiet eating and the rustle of skirts and platters. Aegon tucked into his food with his healthy appetite, while his grandmother picked slowly at her meal.
Jocelyn watched them both for a time, her fingers gently wrapping around her cup.
Then, as if weighing her words carefully, Jocelyn spoke.
"It is said... the King means to name the new heir within a few weeks," she said, softly but with purpose. "It seems Rhaenys's claim is being… contested."
She didn't look directly at Alysanne but kept her tone measured, respectful, yet clearly hoping for a reaction. "By Prince Baelon," she added, letting the name hang in the air.
The Queen said nothing, simply took another slow bite of her fish. Her silence was heavy.
Jocelyn tried again. "It is strange to think that my daughter, our daughter, may be overlooked for what is hers by birth."
Still, Alysanne remained quiet.
Jocelyn glanced at Aegon, who was focused on his meal. She smiled gently. "Aegon has grown into a fine young man," she said, tone warmer now.
"What do you think, nephew? Who will be declared the heir?"
The Queen's eyes lifted then, not sharply, but with a trace of disapproval.
A slight frown creased her brow.
She did not like her grandson being drawn into this.
Aegon noticed the look but hesitated only a second.
He cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with the cloth at his side.
Jocelyn's gaze lingered on him, kind, perhaps too kind.
He glanced at Jocelyn, at her smooth, pale skin and the gentle curve of her neck, framed by loose black hair.
Her dress, though modest by court standards, did little to hide the fullness of her figure. She had always been beautiful, and now with grief softening her eyes, there was something different, vulnerable, and alluring.
He blinked. No…stop. He shook the thought from his head quickly.
She's your aunt. She's in mourning. Be decent.
He swallowed, then answered.
"I think... the King will probably name my father."
Jocelyn's expression stiffened.
Alysanne tilted her head slightly, her interest piqued now.
Aegon continued, voice calm, clear. "I think Princess Rhaenys would make a fine queen. She's strong. Smart. But the realm has never had a woman rule from the Iron Throne. Not truly.
The lords, many of them, would not take kindly to it. And if there's unrest…"
He paused briefly.
"…Grandfather doesn't like conflict. He avoids bloodshed when he can. Naming my father is the safer choice, for peace."
Jocelyn blinked, surprised. She had expected something boyish, a naive sentiment, or perhaps family loyalty.
But his reasoning was calm, deliberate. For a moment, she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came.
Alysanne set down her knife gently.
"That is enough," she said, not sharply, but with firmness. "This is not court. We do not speak of thrones and succession at the dinner table."
Jocelyn lowered her gaze, chastened.
Silence fell once more. They finished the rest of their meal without further talk. The only sounds were the occasional clink of utensils and the distant crash of the sea.
Aegon kept his eyes mostly on his plate.
When the plates were cleared, Queen Alysanne rose first. "Thank you," she said softly to the maids, then turned to the others. "I will retire."
Jocelyn rose and bowed her head.
Aegon stood too. "I'll walk you back," he offered.
Alysanne nodded, and the two of them departed in silence.
Behind them, Lady Jocelyn sat back down, alone at the long table, eyes lingering on the empty table in front of her.
With a hand resting behind his head, Aegon Targaryen lay sprawled across his bed, staring at the shadowed canopy above.
The flickering orange glow from the brazier near the wall cast soft shapes on the ceiling, but his mind was far away.
He let out a long sigh.
The last few months have been… something.
Dragonstone was quieter than King's Landing. The salt-laden winds and rhythmic crashing of waves helped him think, helped him decompress.
"Fucking teenage hormones," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
He was only eight, but his body now looked like that of a tall, lean boy of thirteen or fourteen.
It wasn't just the height or the growing muscle definition, it was his voice beginning to deepen, the sharper angles forming in his jawline, and the way the older maids had started treating him just a little differently.
More and more, he noticed the soft smiles, the flutter of lashes, the subtle glances.
And under the influence of those damn hormones, he sometimes found his own gaze lingering where it shouldn't.
They noticed. Of course they noticed.
And they smiled back.
Gods.
He shut his eyes and took a breath, pushing those thoughts down. They were distracting. He was not some hormonal child, not really.
That boyish hunger warred against a soul that had already lived a life once, an adult's mind trapped in an ever-growing shell.
Focus.
His thoughts shifted, finally, to something that truly mattered, the new class he had just maxed out.
[ Class: Mental Adept (Tier 2) ]
[ Prerequisites:
- Has resisted or consciously interacted with a supernatural mental effect (satisfied)
- INT ≥ 10.0 (satisfied)
- Must have completed at least 10 hours of self-guided meditation or introspective practice (satisfied) ]
[ Level 10 (MAX) ]
[ Trait : Inner Eye
(+65% awareness of hidden supernatural effects)
(+60% detection of supernatural presences)
(+60% mental defense against magical influences or false perceptions) ]
[ Trait : Thought Control
(+75% perfect memory in all situations)
(+75% ability to visualize and model structures or mechanics within the mind)
(+60% speed when creating mental frameworks or models) ]
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