Dragonstone, Autumn
A low groan echoed faintly from the chamber ahead. Queen Alysanne flinched at the sound. Inside, the soft murmur of maesters could be heard, along with the rustle of robes and the occasional clink of metal against stone.
Aegon sat beside the Queen in silence. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her gaze was heavy with worry, and her fingers twisted a handkerchief in her lap, over and over.
He looked away and adjusted his posture slightly. Then made an expression that seemed like a face of concern.
Maids stood nearby, one cradling a stack of folded towels, another ladling water into a basin before slipping inside the room without a word.
Aegon's gaze drifted to the stone floor, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere, back to the months following the royal hunt.
Maegelle had returned to Oldtown shortly after the hunt ended. Jocelyn, Gael, and Aegon had accompanied Queen Alysanne back to Dragonstone. But they were joined by someone new: Prince Vaegon Targaryen, or rather, Maester Vaegon.
The Queen had smiled gently when she told him.
"Your uncle's come to stay for a while," she'd said. "He's missed us. He might even help with your studies, perhaps."
Aegon had nodded politely at the time. "It would be helpful to gain insight from a maester," he had said. But inside he was cautious. His brothers had spoken of Vaegon in passing; bookish, detached, more Citadel than kin. And his sudden desire to study with him was too convenient.
Still, when they spoke, Vaegon came off mild and soft-spoken. Polite. Aegon answered his questions when asked, what he read, what he learned, but never more than surface truths.
Then came the first request.
"Might I observe your flamework sometime?" Vaegon asked one morning. "I missed the demonstration at the hunt. I'd very much like to see how it... manifests."
Aegon had agreed with a smile. He'd conjured fire between his palms, showed how he shaped it, danced it in the air like cloth. Just as he had for the court weeks ago.
But Vaegon's gaze during the display had unsettled him. Obsessive. Almost reverent. And when he saw Aegon watching, the older man quickly smiled, brushing it off with a mild chuckle.
"I was simply... impressed. Forgive me."
From then on, Aegon kept his guard higher. He noticed how Vaegon's eyes lingered on the scrolls he carried. How he started loitering more often near the Black Vault tower.
One day, returning from feeding Dreamfyre, Aegon found him there, standing just below the tower steps, speaking to the guards.
The guards looked uneasy.
"Uncle," Aegon greeted calmly, wiping dust from his hands. "Didn't expect you here."
Vaegon turned, smile in place. "Aegon. Good. I was hoping to catch you."
He gestured toward the door. "I thought I'd have a look at your work. But these guards—well, I think they may need a reminder of respect."
Aegon replied plainly, "No, Uncle. They were right to stop you. No one is allowed inside without my say."
"Oh." Vaegon's smile tightened briefly. "I only came to offer help. As I'd promised the Queen."
"There's no need," Aegon said, still calm. "I think I'll study alone."
Vaegon raised an eyebrow. "How can that be? Forging is dangerous. And you're still a child—"
"I don't need your permission," Aegon said softly. Then, with a polite smile: "I know the risks. I can manage."
"My methods," he added, "aren't based on smelting or forging. Not in the way you know. They're not easy to explain."
"I don't doubt that," Vaegon replied. "But—"
"I work alone," Aegon said again, this time firmer. "Some of it is... volatile. Not safe for others."
There was a pause. Then Vaegon nodded slowly. "Of course. I only wished to offer guidance."
"It's appreciated," Aegon said, turning toward the door. "But unnecessary."
Vaegon stood there a moment longer, lips drawn, before stepping aside.
From that day onward, Vaegon no longer made requests, but he lingered near the Queen often, whispering advice, offering tea, and discussing mundane matters. He had also told the Queen about Aegon's refusal.
The Queen was a little unhappy after learning Aegon did not want to study with Vaegon. But when Aegon explained that his pyromancy might be dangerous to others during experiments, she relented and asked Vaegon to give him space.
So he did.
Instead, he invited two other maesters from the Citadel. Studied dragon bone and steel under their eyes.
Then came the next major event: the wedding of Viserys and Aemma. It was held at Dragonstone, a grand affair. Lords and Ladies from across the realm arrived. Aegon, while cordial, kept his distance. He and Aemma exchanged pleasantries, neither cold nor warm. Just two children now playing roles in a larger game.
The happiest person was undoubtedly Viserys. His face never stopped smiling throughout the celebration. Nothing unexpected happened, the Hightowers, especially, behaved with careful normalcy.
There were quite a few eyes on Aegon as well. His pyromancy at the royal hunt had made waves, and many nobles now watched him with a blend of curiosity and unease. A few bold young ladies even approached him, their eyes full of awe and fascination, but Aegon was swift to dodge their attention. He offered only polite smiles and slipped away before any conversations could linger.
The celebration passed in a blur. Once the festivities ended, Lady Jocelyn departed for the Stormlands to visit her relatives.
In the weeks that followed, Dragonstone grew quiet again. Aegon poured himself into work, deducing more runes and creating more spells. He had maxed out his Tier 3 class [Wizard Apprentice], and even created a new Tier 2 class:
[ Class: Observer (Tier 2) ]
[ Prerequisites:
- INT ≥ 10.0 (satisfied)
- Has observed at least 20 individuals in emotionally varied situations (satisfied)
- Has accurately identified hidden emotion or intent during social interaction (satisfied) ]
[ Level 1 (000 / 1300) ]
[ Trait : Microexpression Reading
(+10% accuracy when interpreting facial microexpressions, vocal stress patterns, and subtle body language)
(+5% detection of emotional state, deception, or concealed intent) ]
[ Trait : Behavioral Mapping
(+10% speed and accuracy when establishing a person's behavioral baseline)
(+5% detection of emotional or mental state deviation under stress or manipulation) ]
The class was only a Tier 2, but it still took a considerable amount of time to create, mainly because the second prerequisite remained unfulfilled. When defining it, Aegon realized that none of his existing classes could serve as a prerequisite.
For instance, while [Occult Scholar] had supported the creation of [Wizard Apprentice], both being rooted in the study of supernatural phenomena, it had no relevance to the observational and behavioral focus of [Observer].
He had hoped that adding high Intelligence attribute as a prerequisite might ease the requirements imposed by the class tree, but that proved false. Some prerequisites were too fundamental to be overridden. It became clear that whenever he tried to create a class in a new, unrelated field, he would always have to start from scratch.
So he adapted.
For the next two months, Aegon committed himself to observation. His title as prince gave him an advantage: an entire court of maids, servants, and attendants. Sometimes he gave commands to test their reactions. Other times, he handed out compliments or coins and studied what flickered across their faces. Every twitch, every pause, every stolen glance, he catalogued it all. He watched them in all emotional states: anxious, pleased, embarrassed, angry.
He was careful to avoid drawing suspicion. His change in behavior wasn't questioned. Targaryen Princes were expected to be willful, moody even. That belief served as cover for his methodical research.
Eventually, he fulfilled the requirements. The class formed, and with his vast experience pool, he began leveling it without delay. His momentum was building again.
Then, one morning, after a clear sky flight on Dreamfyre, Aegon returned to the castle.
He barely had time to brush the wind from his hair when the summons arrived…from the Queen.
He entered the solar to find Vaegon standing by the window and his grandmother sitting beside.
On the table lay a stack of parchment.
His notes.
Aegon's expression darkened.
Queen Alysanne looked up, eyes full of concern. "Aegon... what is this?" she asked gently, motioning to the papers.
Before he could answer, Vaegon stepped in.
"It's not his fault," he said. "The signs are subtle. But they're there."
Aegon turned. "Excuse me?"
"The writing," Vaegon said evenly. "None of us can read it. The language is unknown. It's... incoherent. I've seen similar symptoms before. Obsessive scribbling. Delusions of clarity. The mind deteriorates quietly when exposed to…""
Aegon's eyes narrowed.
Vaegon hesitated. "Sorcery, magic, the darker arts… the Citadel has documented—"
"That's enough," Aegon said sharply.
"You think I've gone mad?" he asked coldly.
Alysanne also looked confused.
"I've seen worse, Mother," Vaegon said. "They all believe they're fine. They never see the spiral. It starts small. Insomnia. Obsession. Whispers in the dark—"
"Enough," Aegon snapped. "I see now. You didn't come for family."
The Queen blinked. "Aegon—"
"No," he pressed. "He's here for the Citadel. Not for you. But for me. He waited. Got close. Then began undermining trust."
Vaegon stepped forward. "That's not true—"
Aegon cut him off. "You haven't visited since I was born. Then I awaken the flame and suddenly you appear? Curious timing."
Alysanne glanced at Vaegon, troubled now.
Aegon tapped the notes. "That script came to me through the dream that gave me fire. A language only we understand. You call it madness because you're blind to it."
"Or because it's nonsense," Vaegon muttered.
"It's knowledge," Aegon replied. "And if you weren't so busy worming into our good graces, maybe you'd see that."
Vaegon's tone sharpened. "Even if you don't trust me, you should trust the Queen. She deserves to know if you're—"
"And accusing your kin of madness—is that loyalty?" Aegon spat.
"That's enough," Queen Alysanne snapped.
The room fell silent.
She rose, her face tired and drawn.
"We are family," she said. "This is not how we speak to one another."
Neither of them responded.
"I want both of you to return to your chambers. Now."
Vaegon opened his mouth. "But—"
She raised a hand. "Not. A word."
Vaegon froze, then turned and left.
Aegon blinked, drawn back to the present.
Alysanne stood slowly from her seat and turned toward the maesters who had just stepped out.
"Is he all right?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
One of the maesters straightened. "He has a fever, Your Grace, and it appears he strained something in his lower back… perhaps the waist. He can sit, but walking will be difficult for some time."
The second maester added, "We'll continue observation. If there are any concerning developments, we'll inform you at once."
Alysanne gave a small nod, her lips drawn in a thin line. "Do what you must."
Aegon looked up at her. "He'll be fine, Grandmother," he said softly. "It should not be serious."
She gave him a weary smile, touched with gratitude. "I know, dear."
He hesitated, then lowered his gaze. "I shouldn't have spoken to Uncle that way."
The Queen sighed gently and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. Families quarrel. We get angry. But remember this… no matter what happens, we're family first."
Aegon nodded, face composed. "I'll remember."
She smiled again, more gently this time. "Go on now. You've your own work to focus on."
"Yes, Grandmother," he said, then turned and walked away down the hall.
His steps were steady, unhurried. But the expression he'd worn a moment before, the softness in his eyes, the touch of guilt on his brow, slipped away with every step.
There was no remorse. No sorrow.
Not for Vaegon.
Because it was Aegon who had done this.
Vaegon was a threat. A polite, quiet, persistent threat wrapped in family colors. And Aegon did not have the patience to play a long game of smiles and pretense.
So he acted.
A few nights after their confrontation, while Dragonstone slept and the sea whispered softly below, Aegon stood silently outside his uncle's chamber. He did not enter.
He didn't need to.
He simply unfolded his spirituality, like a net, weaving through stone walls with ease, until it covered the man entirely.
Vaegon was asleep. Breathing slow. Heart steady.
Aegon extended deeper. His spiritual perception, now sharp and honed, swept through skin and sinew, past ribs and muscle, until it found what it sought.
There you are.
The left kidney.
Not the liver. Not the heart.
He wasn't trying to kill.
A tiny spark ignited, a thread of fire no bigger than a grain of rice, conjured silently and precisely through his flamecraft. It formed deep inside the organ, and then, gently, it burned.
Ten percent. No more.
Enough to cause pain, inflammation. Not enough to kill.
He had avoided arteries. Left no visible wound. Aegon knew they didn't have the knowledge to detect it, not without opening him up.
Now, Vaegon would lie in bed for weeks, perhaps longer. Incapacitated. Confused. Harmless.
Aegon had no intention of letting him near his research again.
And if the Queen grieved her son's sudden illness, Aegon would grieve with her. Concern on his face, warmth in his words.
But his heart would remain cold.
He would protect what was his. And none, not even blood, would stand in the way.
***
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