"I'm feeling a little better, Mother… we're still in Duskendale, aren't we?"
Aegon's eyelids twitched as he spoke. Warm water and finely minced meat porridge sat at his bedside, yet his mind raced. Still Duskendale meant only one thing.
The next stop would be a ship. And after that, Dragonstone.
By the course of the story, his mother would be devoured there by Sunfyre. As for him? He would become a captive in the hands of his uncle, Aegon II, a fate worse than death.
Aegon II's men had once threatened to carve him apart piece by piece, using his screams to force the Blacks to surrender.
"Yes," Rhaenyra Targaryen replied softly. "We're still in Duskendale."
Worry darkened her face. This place would not shelter them much longer, the Darklyns were already pressing them to leave.
The pitiful image of a mother and son clinging to one another had barely formed before worse news arrived.
"Your Grace," another lady-in-waiting whispered urgently, leaning close, "the Braavosi captain says we must pay if we wish to board. He will not linger in Duskendale."
Aegon watched his mother's expression sink even further.
Braavosi were Braavosi, coin ruled all things. And they had fled King's Landing in such haste that they carried almost nothing. The only object of real value left to her was the crown upon her head.
Once I reach Dragonstone, Rhaenyra told herself, everything will be set right.
But Aegon knew better.
This was the moment between life and death.
Dragonstone could not, must not, be their destination.
Aegon II was half-mad by now. With the hatred he bore them, it was entirely possible that, in a fit of rage, he would feed both mother and son to his dragon without hesitation.
Rhaenyra needed to live, at least until Aegon himself came of age. Even a flawed mother was better than the monsters waiting in the future. Better than that butcher Unwin Peake.
I have to survive, Aegon thought. And to do that, I must avoid Dragonstone.
Gulltown would do. White Harbor would do.
The Vale of Arryn and the the North still had strength to spare. Lord Rickard Stark's wolves were gathering. Once the northern host marched, the tide would turn.
He had to change his mother's mind.
He had no intention of walking willingly into a dragon's jaws.
"Mother," Aegon said carefully, "could you ask everyone else to step outside for a moment?"
Rhaenyra hesitated, then nodded and dismissed the others.
Since awakening, her son seemed… different.
Before, Aegon had been withdrawn and despondent. War had taken three brothers from him; his youngest sibling had vanished at the Battle of the Gullet. Misfortune had wrapped his life like a shroud.
But now, something had changed.
"Are we leaving?" Aegon asked quietly.
"Yes, my child," Rhaenyra replied. "We must return to Dragonstone. We are not welcome here. If I can hatch even a single dragon, we will win."
She stroked his hair, as though the decision were already settled.
"I don't want to go to Dragonstone!" Aegon shouted suddenly. "Even if you beat me to death, I won't go back there!"
For a grown man, such hysteria would have been unseemly. But he was a child, fresh from illness.
It worked.
"What is it, my sweet boy?" Rhaenyra said quickly, alarmed. "Dragonstone is our home. King's Landing has cast us out. I need Dragonstone to hatch dragons."
"I dreamed, Mother," Aegon said, his voice trembling. He let fear flood his face. "Dragonstone is terrifying."
His hands began to shake.
"I dreamed the island ran with blood. I dreamed the old maester and the castellan were already dead. Shadows everywhere, evil men hiding in the dark.
"I dreamed of it. A golden dragon with shattered wings, unable to fly. Its scales shone like dawn, its wing membranes pale pink. It hid in the Dragonmont behind Dragonstone.
"It came to the castle. It slew a small green dragon.
"And then… when we landed on the shore, it opened its jaws... it killed you first, Mother… and then me."
He poured everything into it.
A dragon dream.
Ordinary persuasion would never sway Rhaenyra. But time was short, he needed something overwhelming.
"I don't want to go to Dragonstone," Aegon whispered hoarsely. "I'll be eaten by a dragon."
The terror in his voice was so vivid, so raw, that Rhaenyra froze.
She might ignore counselors. She might dismiss lords.
But she could not ignore the panic of her only remaining son.
"Sunfyre…" Rhaenyra murmured. "If Sunfyre still lives… then my brother still lives as well?"
Fear crept into her eyes.
Most of the realm believed Aegon II and his dragon dead. But if her son's dream was true, then all of that was wrong.
The most magnificent of golden dragons could only be Sunfyre.
And if Sunfyre was on Dragonstone, then Aegon II was hiding there as well.
That cursed clubfoot, Larys Strong, was said to know every secret passage of the Red Keep.
Rhaenyra was stubborn, not stupid. It was the relentless collapse of her cause that had left her flailing, raging, blind with desperation.
Now, she began to think.
"Golden dragon… golden dragon…"
She paced the room.
Three ravens had been sent from Duskendale to summon ships from Dragonstone. Not a single reply had come. No ships. No word from the castellan Ser Garon Greyjoy.
It was an ill omen.
In her fury, she had assumed betrayal.
But what if... what if the castellan was already dead?
Aegon knew his mother well.
She was proud. Stubborn. Quick to rage. Charismatic, yes, but vengeful, and incapable of accepting slights. Without wise counsel, she made disasters of everything.
After Daemon Targaryen's death, no one remained to rein her in.
Imprisoning Corlys Velaryon, thus losing the Velaryon fleet, had been madness.
And now they had no ships at all.
"Dragonstone cannot be our destination," Rhaenyra said slowly. "But… where else can we go?"
She could not let it be known that Aegon II and his dragon still lived. Avoiding Dragonstone was now paramount.
"My son," she said at last, "I will consider what you have told me."
She had already resolved to return to Dragonstone.
Now, she hesitated.
That night, when Aegon's color had fully returned, Rhaenyra summoned her remaining supporters to the small chamber.
"Your Grace." "Prince."
The Queensguard bowed. So did the brothers of House Manderly.
There is still loyalty in this broken world, Aegon thought.
These men had stayed with them through everything.
"Ser Harrold," Rhaenyra said to Harrold Darklyn, "you once urged me to seek refuge with Lady Jeyne in the Vale. If we avoid Dragonstone, where would we land?"
"At Gulltown, Your Grace," Harrold replied at once, surprise and relief mingling in his voice. "Winter is harsh. Lady Jeyne Arryn is sheltering at the Gates of the Moon below the Eyrie. If we reach Gulltown, she will send for us at once. She has always been loyal. Had she ships, she would already be here."
"And you?" Rhaenyra asked the Manderly brothers.
"We return to White Harbor," they answered firmly. "Lord Stark's banners are gathering. The North will sound the horns of victory for you."
Rhaenyra exhaled slowly.
"Victory… it weighs so heavily."
She removed her crown.
It was her last treasure... the crown inherited from her father Viserys I Targaryen. She had carried it even while fleeing for her life.
Now, she would trade it for passage.
All because she had imprisoned Corlys Velaryon, driving away the Velaryon fleet.
Another suffocating decision.
[Major Event Triggered:"Flight to Dragonstone" corrected.
New Major Event:"Flight to Gulltown."
You have intervened in and altered a major event.
Attribute Enhancement Opportunity ×1 obtained. ]
Aegon's eyes lit up.
So it's real.
Reshaping the story, helps me gain power...
If that's the case…
"Fortune," Aegon chose without hesitation. "My luck has always been abysmal."
The aspect of the Father shimmered faintly, its scales brightening. His Fortune remained weak, but something shifted, subtly, inexorably.
The tide had begun to turn.
Once we reach the Vale, he thought, everything will improve.
The Greens were still resisting, but they were already spent.
Three days later, Aegon was lively once more, bright-eyed and energetic. The prince seemed transformed, optimistic, radiant.
People whispered that perhaps this was his true nature at last.
No one liked a prince drowned in gloom.
"Duskendale. King's Landing," Aegon thought as the Braavosi ship pulled away, the town shrinking behind him. "I will return."
The voyage to the Vale had begun.
-------
A/N:
Read ahead on Patreon, 23 advance chapters available, with the first 2 free.
patreon.com/Captain_Lag