The cold air stung Aegon's face as he guided Sunfyre through the clouds, the dragon's broad wings slicing the sky. Below, the Narrow Sea heaved against jagged rocks and the fleet from King's Landing bobbed on rolling swells. From above, everything felt quieter, the wind in his hair drowning out the usual noise of the court. Beside the royal bannered ships, Driftmark's silhouette was already visible—sharp cliffs, pale stone walls, and High Tide castle looming over the salt-rimed bay.
Sunfyre descended in a wide golden arc. Aegon felt the ripple of muscle beneath the dragon's scales and, in spite of everything, exhaled—a moment's pride leaking through his nerves. The approach felt ceremonial, and so did the landing. Stones flew, startled gulls shrieked, and when Sunfyre's claws hit the shore, all eyes along the docks snapped toward them.
Aegon slid from the saddle, boots hitting the cold sand. He stroked Sunfyre's neck, murmuring low so only the dragon heard. Servants, guards, and lords all stared in wary awe. For a moment, Aegon stood taller—here, power and fear were the same, the dragon flashing radiant through the mist.
He looked up to see the king's ship moored beside the seawall. The gangplank was down, and the royal household began to disembark: Viserys with two guards at each arm, his cane hitting wood with each step; Alicent in deep green, veil drawn low; Aemond, Helaena, and Daeron following in dark coats. Behind them, banners and retainers flapped in the briny wind.
Lord Corlys Velaryon waited at the head of the docks—tall and silent, his high collar catching the breeze and salt. Beside him, Princess Rhaenys looked like carved marble, her features hard but dignified in grief.
As the royal group gathered, Corlys bowed. "Your Grace. My lady and I grieve with your house."
Viserys managed a nod, lines of age deepening. "Driftmark remains part of our blood," he said. His voice was tired, but carried across the yard. "Let us mourn Laena together, as family."
Rhaenys's gaze swept the younger generation—resting for a second on Aegon, then Aemond, then on Helaena, the smallest. The moment lingered, before all eyes fell away.
Aegon waited with the others as retainers arranged the baggage, and Alicent signaled for him and his siblings to step forward, offering their condolences in careful words. Every phrase was chosen, every gesture deliberate—these alliances were as fragile as they were necessary.
Inside, the family was given quarters in the north wing of High Tide. The corridors echoed salt and sea, tapestries fluttering against stone. Aegon dropped his satchel on the bed and glanced out the high window: from here, the shoreline narrowed to a black ribbon, with fishing boats like silver flecks against the water. Down below, Sunfyre had already curled up to sleep outside the walls, the yellow of his hide bright against the leaden rocks.
He wasn't alone for long. Aemond stalked in, shaking out his sea-damp cloak. "Did you see Daemon yet?" he asked, voice just above a whisper.
Aegon shook his head. "He'll appear when he wants attention."
Aemond looked uneasy. "Best be careful." He crossed to the window, frowning down at the gathering guests—many of whom wore Velaryon black, faces set and aloof. "They'd all rather we left as soon as the rites are over. I can feel it."
Aegon didn't argue. He poured a cup of water and forced himself to drink, steadying his nerves. The day's travel, the tension in the halls, and the eyes on his dragon—all of it pulsed in his skull.
Soon after, a servant knocked, inviting the family to the main hall for the welcoming meal. It was a heavy affair: simple fish, cold bread, and watered wine. Conversation was sparse: Corlys and Viserys exchanged solemn anecdotes of Laena's childhood; Rhaenys spoke soft words to Alicent. Daemon entered late, his hair wild from the wind. He took a seat far from the head table, small smirk barely there as he looked over the king's children.
Aegon ate little, mostly watching—Rhaenyra arrived last, with her sons Jace and Luke in tow. No laughter, no warmth. The boys looked anywhere but where Aemond sat, and Helaena barely spoke. The air was thick with old hurts and unsaid words.
After the meal, most guests drifted away, citing exhaustion from the journey. The sun had already faded, streaking the sea red and purple as the castle shadows deepened.
Aegon slipped out before anyone could call for his attention. He walked the ramparts for a bit, drawing in the cold, salty air. The sky was huge and clouded, but the sea smelled clean. Below, near the dragonpit, Sunfyre shifted, eyes glowing gold. Aegon made his way down, weaving past clusters of guards and flickering torches. He reached the dragon and set a hand to the warm, breathing scales.
Sunfyre's great head swung toward him, eyes narrowing. Aegon didn't speak—he simply pressed his forehead to the dragon's snout, feeling the thrumming strength beneath. Here, nobody expected anything. Here, only instinct and respect mattered.
He stayed like that for a while, letting the dragon's heat leech out the chill and worry. Only when he heard voices—children running somewhere deeper in the yard—did he step back, whispering, "Stay close tonight."
As he moved to leave, he saw Baela and Rhaena Velaryon a little ways off with their own small dragon, Moon Dancer. They stared warily, then waved. Aegon nodded but kept his distance; tonight, any wrong word could be twisted.
He trod back through the castle's side corridors, passing alcoves studded with driftwood carvings and small windows filled with the sound of the tide. Every so often, he caught sight of Rhaenyra's boys huddling together in the shadows, quick whispers and quiet laughter. Somewhere, Daemon's hard-edged voice sliced through the quiet, but Aegon couldn't hear the words.
Inside his room, Aegon found Aemond sitting cross-legged on the bed, sharpening a small dagger. He looked up when Aegon entered.
"You went to see Sunfyre," Aemond said, more curious than jealous.
Aegon nodded. "Needed air. Needed quiet, too."
Aemond was silent for a moment, eyes on the blade. "Do you think they even want us here?"
Aegon sat on the edge of his bed. "No. But that's not new. Smile when you have to. Listen more than you speak." He gave a lopsided grin. "No one expects us to do more."
Aemond snorted, almost a laugh, but it was gone as quick as it came.
When the castle bells tolled for the evening's final prayer, the halls quieted. Aegon lay in the half-darkness, watching candlelight flicker on the curved ceiling. He thought about his dragon, about the dozens of people gathered under one fraught roof, about Rhaenyra's sharp glances, Baela's wary wave, and the hundreds of ways things could go wrong before they returned home.
Tomorrow, there would be the funeral. Tonight, there was only the steady breath of the sea and the golden warmth of Sunfyre sleeping below his window, one safe island in a court full of shifting tides.