Aegon's quiet, calculated promise sent a violent thrum through Hugh's chest, the kind of rhythmic pounding usually reserved for the strike of a heavy hammer on glowing steel.
"I am yours, Your Highness! Body and soul!" Hugh dropped to one knee without a flicker of hesitation, the rough stone of the Map Room biting into his shin as he pledged his life.
"Rise," Aegon commanded. He drew his shortsword, the steel singing a sharp, metallic note as it cleared the scabbard. He rested the flat of the blade on Hugh's broad shoulder. "I accept your fealty. From this hour, you are my sworn shield. My shadow and my strength."
Aegon watched the man rise. He had seen the spark in Hugh's eyes from the moment they met—not just the spark of the forge, but the hungry fire of ambition. It did not trouble him. Power, as the eunuchs and masters of whisperers would one day say, resides where men believe it resides. It was better to have a man fueled by desire than one hollowed by apathy. A man who wanted for nothing was a man who could not be moved.
He dismissed the smith to gather his belongings, promising a ship to carry him and his wife to the capital. As the door creaked shut, Aegon's composure slipped, and his mouth twitched in a grimace.
"The Blue Queen's belly," he muttered to the empty, echoing room.
The jagged claw-marks the Cannibal had left on Dreamfyre would be impossible to scrub away or hide with salve. Viserys would see them, and the King's wrath would be as certain as the tide. Aegon sighed, a sound far too weary for a boy of seven years. "By the Gods, the wait to grow is a slow torture. A prince in swaddling clothes is but a bird in a cage."
He paced the length of the Painted Table, his fingers tracing the carved coastline of the Reach. If he had been born as Laenor Velaryon—distant, wealthy, and left to his own devices—maneuvering through the coming storm would have been a simpler feat. But he was Aegon, the firstborn son of a second queen, a living challenge to his sister's inheritance.
Viserys was still in the autumn of his strength, and Otto Hightower had been exiled to the damp silence of Oldtown. At seven, Aegon's hands were too small to seize the rudder of the realm. Yet, he was not idle. Helaena was no longer the tragic, withdrawn ghost of the histories; in his hands, she and Dreamfyre were becoming a weapon of singular potency.
He looked toward the year 120 AC—the "Year of the Red Spring." He knew the tragedies written in the stars: the deaths of Laena and Laenor, the guttering of the Velaryon flame. When the Great She-Dragon Vhagar lost her rider, Aemond would be there to claim her. That, Aegon knew, would be the moment the balance of power finally tipped.
By dusk, Ser Arryk arrived at the Stone Drum Tower with a contingent of guards. The knight's face was a mask of frantic relief as he hurried toward the Prince.
"Your Highness! Are you harmed? Where are the Prince and Princess?"
"At peace, Ser Arryk. They spend their hours in the gardens, mourning the boredom of this rock," Aegon lied smoothly. He struggled to keep his expression neutral; if the tale of the skirmish with the Cannibal reached the King's ears before he could frame it, he was destined for a lashing. He would be stubborn to the end; without proof, a prince's word was law.
"I return to King's Landing on the morrow," Aegon added, pivoting the conversation with practiced ease. "And I require you to find room on your vessel for a few guests."
Arryk blinked, his brow furrowed. "Guests, Highness? You found companions on this wasteland?"
"The personage will arrive tonight. See that he is settled and his wife made comfortable. Do not question the choice; just see it done."
Later that evening, Hugh led his wife, Martha, toward the obsidian gates of the keep. He walked with a new heaviness in his step—the weight of a man who had traded his hammer for a sword.
"My lord, I am Hugh," he addressed the guard at the entrance, his voice low and raspy. "His Highness summoned me."
The sworn shield on duty didn't blink; the Prince's instructions had been absolute. "Follow me. I shall take you to the Lord Commander's brother, Ser Arryk. You sail for the capital at dawn." The guard glanced at Hugh's massive frame and added, "You have been touched by the Crone's lantern, smith. To be valued by Prince Aegon is to be favored by the Seven themselves."
The words chilled Hugh. The higher the Prince placed him, the further there was to fall. The pressure began to settle on his heart, a cold iron band of expectation.
When they met Ser Arryk, the knight's white cloak shimmering in the torchlight, Martha recoiled in nerves. She had lived her life in the soot of the village; the sudden proximity to high lords and shining steel was like a fever dream.
"Do not tremble, woman," Arryk said, though his tone was not unkind. "The Prince has a keen eye for utility. If he wants you in King's Landing, there is a reason for it."
He showed them to a guest chamber—a room finer than any Hugh had ever seen—and assigned handmaidens to tend to Martha's needs. When the door finally closed, Hugh helped his wife onto the feathered bed.
"Hugh, I am frightened," Martha whispered, clutching his hand. "This is a world of dragons and lions. We are but mice."
Hugh kissed her knuckles, his eyes reflecting the guttering candlelight with a fierce, ambitious glow. "We were mice in the village, Martha. We ate our fill, yes, but our child would have grown up with soot in his lungs and a hammer in his hand. No more."
"But we were safe," she pleaded.
"Safe is for those who have no hope," Hugh said, his hand straying to her swollen belly. "If it is a son, I will see him made a knight. A lord. A man who commands the mice."
He remembered his mother's old, whispered stories—the secrets of his blood that he had never dared to speak aloud. Martha reached up, covering his mouth with her hand, her voice a terrified hiss.
"The Prince favors you, but you must never forget your place, Hugh. Prophetic talk is a noose for men like us."
"I know," Hugh nodded, the fire in his eyes undimmed. "I know exactly where my place is. Right behind the Prince."