93 AC
Narrow Sea, Spring Morning
The sea shimmered beneath them, painted in shifting hues of blue and silver as a massive dragon cut through the skies. Its scales glistened in the morning sun, sapphire streaked with pale iridescence.
Wings spread wide, the creature soared above the calm waters with regal grace.
Seated astride the dragon's neck was a silver-gold-haired boy, his hair tousled by the wind. Though he was only nine years of age, he bore the tall frame and poise of a youth several years older. The strange maturity of his form was no accident, but the effects of his classes, unseen and unknown to the world he now lived in.
"Slower, Dreamfyre," Aegon said mentally, calm and clear.
~Yes, the dragon responded. She adjusted her flight at once, the air around them stilling as their speed diminished to a steady glide.
Aegon leaned back slightly in the saddle, letting the wind wash over his face. The chill of early spring mixed with the golden heat of morning sunlight. It was a good feeling, one that reminded him that he was alive, and soaring far above the world of men.
Dreamfyre hummed beneath him, a low, contented vibration.
Aegon opened his eyes slowly. Far ahead, framed by drifting mist, loomed the red-stone sprawl of King's Landing. The Red Keep stood proud above the city like a thorned crown.
As they crossed the walls and towers, heads turned below. Market stalls, city watchmen, dockworkers, and nobles in carriages all gazed skyward in awe.
With a sharp tilt of her wings, Dreamfyre angled toward the Dragonpit. Her descent stirred the air into a wild storm, sending dust and leaves tumbling.
Swoooosh.
She landed with a thunderous grace, wings folding close to her massive body. Despite her immense size, equal now to Vermithor himself, she moved with a feline agility, tail swaying and nostrils steaming.
The old stone of the Dragonpit echoed with the sound of clawed feet meeting earth. Already, a dozen dragonkeepers had rushed out from the shadows of the great domed cavern. Their cloaks fluttered behind them as they approached.
One among them, older than the rest, stepped forward. His words were spoken in High Valyrian, as he bent into a deep bow. "It is a great honor to serve the Dragon of Flame reborn."
The others bowed as well, murmuring ancient words beneath their breath, as if he were not a boy but a holy sign, the return of magic long thought buried in the ashes of Valyria.
Aegon gave a polite nod. "Feed Dreamfyre twice today. She is hungry," he said in fluent High Valyrian. Then, mentally, he whispered to the dragon, Rest well in the caves.
Dreamfyre blinked at him once, then lumbered toward the wide tunnel entrance carved into the stone beneath the pit, her tail dragging slow furrows in the ground.
The keepers scattered to make way.
Aegon adjusted the folds of his riding cloak and turned toward the gates of the Red Keep, his boots clicking against the stone. Morning sun warmed the red walls, and the banners of House Targaryen fluttered high above, their black dragons catching the wind like they might take flight at any moment.
As he passed through the courtyard and toward the inner halls, maids and servants moved aside to let him through. Some bowed with startled expressions, others whispered behind their hands. Aegon ignored them.
He was used to it by now.
As he neared Maegor's Holdfast, a voice rang out behind him. "Aegon!"
He turned to see Viserys striding toward him, all exuberance and wind-swept silver hair. The sixteen-year-old grinned widely, eyes shining with relief and excitement.
Aegon smiled in return, and barely had time to brace himself before Viserys pulled him into a crushing bear hug.
"It's so good to see you, little brother," Viserys said, clapping his back. He held him at arm's length for a moment, scanning him up and down. "A Valyrian pyromancer, huh? I still can't believe it. Daemon told me but—"
"Oi, Viserys! Leave him alone, would ya?" another voice called out.
They both turned to see Daemon approaching, hands in his belt, a crooked grin on his face.
He gave Aegon a nod. "Good that you didn't come with us yesterday." He jabbed a finger in Viserys's direction. "First, you'd have had to sit through a whole day of the Queen and the ladies chattering on the ship… and then this one's endless questions about fire magic."
"I was curious!" Viserys snapped, glaring. "Maybe I should let the Queen know how much her conversations had bothered you."
Daemon smirked. "Maybe I'll tell the Queen how much you enjoyed Miss Cara's company last week instead."
Viserys's eyes widened. "You little—"
Before he could finish, Aegon blinked innocently. "Who's Cara?" he asked, voice laced with curiosity.
Viserys immediately coughed and looked away, suddenly fascinated by a passing guard. "No one. Just… just someone Daemon made up."
Daemon let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying it. "Don't worry, Aegon. One day we'll take you to Silk Street. Your older brothers will show you the ropes." He slung an arm around Aegon's shoulders. "Isn't that right, Viserys?"
Viserys gave a strained smile, red creeping into his cheeks. "Don't listen to him, Aegon. He's a fool."
Before another jab could be thrown, a new voice cut in, firm and unmistakable.
"What ropes?"
All three boys stiffened and turned. Prince Baelon stood a few paces away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"Why aren't you three dressed yet? We leave for Kingswood within the hour." His tone brooked no nonsense.
"Yes, Father," they chorused quickly.
Baelon gave each a hard look, then turned and walked away, his red cloak trailing behind.
The moment he was out of earshot, Daemon whispered, "You were about to say something stupid again, weren't you?"
"Better than outing your favorite whore," Viserys hissed.
Aegon just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Well," Viserys said finally, clapping his hands, "let's get ready then, boys." He paused, grinning. "The hunt awaits."
Aegon stood still as the maids worked around him, fastening buckles and adjusting folds.
His reflection caught in a nearby mirror. Dark leather riding boots, well-fitted breeches, and a finely tailored tunic of deep charcoal, edged with silver thread. The embroidery hinted at dragon wings along the sleeves, subtle and elegant. Clearly his grandmother and aunts had their way with the design.
Yet, he'd quietly discarded the more flamboyant flourishes, golden chains, a brocade cloak, and gods-awful plumes.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as one maid tightened a belt around his waist. "Wearing such clothes is always a pain in the ass."
The eldest maid glanced up sharply, but said nothing.
Finally dressed, he stepped away and examined himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothed the collar.
"Not bad," he murmured.
By the time Aegon descended to the courtyard, the carriages had been prepared and most of the retinue was gathered. Courtiers stood in neat rows, nobles with jeweled belts and feathered caps murmured to one another. His brothers were lounging off to the side near a fountain, flicking pebbles at each other.
He stepped toward them, his presence immediately drawing attention. Conversations paused briefly as a few lords and ladies turned to glance, just a boy, and yet… not just a boy.
Then came the sound of footsteps and murmurs, the King and Queen had arrived.
Jaehaerys Targaryen, the Conciliator, stepped forward in his crimson cloak, his white beard neatly combed. Behind him walked Queen Alysanne, flanked by the Hand, Septon Barth.
The King's gaze found Aegon, and a smile softened the old lines of his face.
"Aegon," he said, motioning him over. "This royal hunt is in your honor. Ride with us in our carriage."
Aegon stepped forward and gave a short, respectful bow. "Thank you, Your Grace. But I would rather ride with my brothers, if that pleases you."
Jaehaerys chuckled softly, eyes crinkling. "Suit yourself. Enjoy the day, my boy."
Queen Alysanne, however, marched up with a sharper purpose. Her eyes locked on Aegon's tunic. She narrowed them.
"Where is the rest of the attire I sent you?" she asked, inspecting him head to toe.
Aegon offered a wry smile. "Didn't like the rest. So I didn't wear it."
The Queen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Seven save me. You sound more like your father every day."
Then her eyes softened. She touched his cheek briefly. "Just… remember this is a significant day. You're not just a boy anymore. They'll all be watching."
Aegon nodded solemnly. "I know."
Soon after, horns sounded. Footmen opened the carriage doors. One by one, the party boarded their respective carriages. Guards mounted their horses. The procession began rolling out of the Red Keep gates, banners flapping overhead.
Aegon climbed into a richly appointed carriage alongside Daemon and Viserys. Plush seats lined with velvet. Carved wood panels gleamed in the light.
The moment the door closed, Viserys leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin.
"Brought something for the road," he said, reaching into a pouch hidden beneath the seat.
He pulled out a polished silver goblet and a small glass bottle of dark red wine, along with three modestly sized cups.
"One of Father's finest. Had to sneak into his chambers while he was off with Grand Maester Elysar. Worth the risk."
Daemon's eyes lit up as he sat forward, already reaching for a cup.
"Gods, I needed this," he muttered.
"Careful," Viserys warned, pouring slowly. "This is strong. Don't spill. It's from Lys, I think—imported."
They each took a glass. Aegon swirled the wine, sniffed, then took a cautious sip.
It was smooth. Strong. Warm going down. The kind of drink that stayed in your chest.
"Not bad at all," Aegon said, raising his glass slightly. Daemon echoed him with a grin.
"To fire and dragons," Viserys toasted, eyes glinting.
"To the hunt," Daemon added.
Aegon looked at both of them, his smile steady.
"To what comes next."
The clink of silver cups followed, and the wine flowed freely after that. The carriage swayed gently as it rolled through the outer gates of the Red Keep and onto the Kingsroad.
They leaned back against the plush seats, warmth in their bellies and spring sun on the windows. Outside, guards rode in formation.
"So," Viserys said, swirling his wine and shooting Daemon a sly look, "you never told me what your recent visit to Dragonstone was really about."
"Tch." Daemon snorted. "I already said, it was to see Aegon's pyromancy."
"Mhm. Sure," Viserys said with a grin. "Absolutely not about claiming any dragon, right?"
Daemon froze mid-sip. "Wait—how did you know?" He turned to Aegon, narrowing his eyes. "Did you tell him?"
"Don't blame Aegon," Viserys said, holding up his hands innocently. "It wasn't hard to figure out. You were walking around Dragonstone with that smug 'soon-to-be-dragonlord' strut. Everyone knew."
Daemon frowned, trying to scowl, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
"Careful with those teeth, brother," he shot back. "You haven't claimed a dragon either."
That wiped the smirk right off Viserys's face. "You little shit—" he growled. "Wait till I claim Balerion, then we'll see who's laughing. I'll have him piss on you from the skies just for sport."
Aegon nearly choked on his drink.
"Disgusting," Daemon muttered, though he was grinning. "Besides, Balerion's older than the bloody Wall. He'd rather nap for a hundred years than carry your whining ass."
"Better than stealing one like a brat," Viserys huffed.
"It wasn't stealing. It was bonding, thank you very much," Daemon sniffed, tossing his silver hair back like a haughty noblewoman.
Aegon couldn't help it, he laughed.
Then Daemon leaned in.
"So… which of the noble ladies do you think is going to faint first when they see Aegon conjure fire with his fingers?"
"Lady Reese," Viserys said immediately. "She once screamed at a lantern for flickering too loud."
Aegon rolled his eyes, but his smirk gave him away. "Maybe I'll conjure fire in the shape of your faces. That'll really frighten the realm."
"Please don't," Viserys groaned.
"The realm's suffered enough," Daemon agreed with mock solemnity.
Their laughter lingered, easy and unguarded, as the conversation drifted on, sometimes teasing, sometimes thoughtful, always full of the chaotic bond only brothers shared.
And beyond the carriage walls, the wheels turned steadily, carrying them ever closer to the Kingswood.
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