The two Runic Knights stepped forward, hauling the dazed boys to their feet one by one and presenting them before the chair. The Lord reached out, touching the back of each boy's neck gently. A sharp, stinging pain followed, like the burn of a hot brand. When he removed his fingers, a perfect red circle was etched into their skin.
He gave a slight nod to Tanesha. She stepped forward, expression stern. She focused, activating the new brands through the connection of her own.
Agony.
It was instant and overwhelming. The five boys screamed, their bodies convulsing as they dropped back to the floor, thrashing in silent torment for several long seconds. Then, just as abruptly, the pain ceased, leaving them panting and weeping on the stone.
Tanesha looked down at them, her voice menacing. "That is the price of disobedience. Now get up. Return to your quarters."
The boys, broken and terrified, half-crawled, half-stumbled out of the room and then out of the tower, trailed by the watchful knights. Tanesha bowed deeply to the Lord and followed them out.
As the door closed, the Lord sat back in his chair and checked his Class Tree.
[EXP: 25,567]
A faint, weary smile touched his lips.
One month later, Dragonstone.
The morning light streamed through the high windows of the keep. Aegon walked down the quiet corridor, his boots a soft sound on the stone. He wore his familiar dragon riding armor, a supple suit of blue and black leather with metal pauldrons caping the shoulders.
He stopped at a chamber door and knocked gently. "Gael?"
A voice came from within. "Almost done! Come inside."
He pushed the door open. Inside, Princess Gael was standing before a tall mirror, being assisted by two maids. They were fastening the last clasps on a riding suit that was a near-perfect match for his own: the same deep blue and black, tailored to her slender form. The maids stepped back, offering small smiles as Aegon entered.
Gael turned towards him, her face bright with a hopeful, eager smile. "So? How is it?"
She looked striking. The dark leather accentuated her pale Targaryen skin, her silver-gold hair braided neatly away from her face. She looked every inch a dragonrider, ready for the sky.
Aegon smiled. "You look like Dreamfyre's new rider."
Gael giggled, a soft, delighted sound. "Let's go."
On the black sand beach, Dreamfyre lay coiled in the sun. The low rumble of her breathing was a steady drumbeat in the air. Gael and Aegon walked towards her side by side, a pair in matching armor, followed by a small retinue of maids and guards who stopped at a respectful distance.
A guard stepped forward and handed Aegon a long, narrow wrapped bundle. Aegon took it, then scaled Dreamfyre's side, climbing the natural ladder of her folded wing to the saddle at the base of her neck. He carefully tied the package to the saddle's frame, near his seat.
He then leaned down, offering a hand to Gael. "My betrothed."
She smiled and took his hand, her grip sure, and climbed up to settle in the seat behind him. Aegon pulled a broad leather safety belt from the saddle, looping it around both their waists and buckling it securely, binding them together for the flight.
He glanced over his shoulder. "You could sit in the front, you know. The view is better."
Gael shook her head, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against his back. "This is more comfortable," she said, her voice warm and content against him.
Aegon smiled. "Alright."
He gave a final nod to the servants on the beach, who bowed and curtsied as they retreated further back. Dreamfyre, sensing their readiness, stirred. She rose to her feet with a slow, powerful uncoiling of muscle and scale, the ground vibrating slightly. Then, with a sound like a great sail unfurling, she stretched her vast wings wide.
Aegon gripped the front of the saddle and the reins of chain. "Ready for your ride, then? To King's Landing?"
From behind him, Gael tightened her hold, her voice happy and clear near his ear. "Yes."
With that, Dreamfyre crouched and pushed off. Her wings beat down with a deep whoomph that sent sand scattering in a whirlwind, and they were airborne. The sudden rush of wind made Gael gasp and duck her head behind Aegon's broad shoulders, using him as a shield. But after a moment, her curiosity won. She would peek out, her eyes wide with a dazed, wondrous smile as the jagged spires of Dragonstone fell away beneath them, replaced by the endless, sparkling blue of the sea.
Feeling her movements, Aegon called back over the wind. "Let's fly over Duskendale and Rosby this time. A longer route."
From her secure place behind him, he felt her nod. "Hmm," she agreed, her voice a happy murmur lost in the roar of the sky.
The great blue dragon cut a steady path through the clear sky. Gael leaned against the Aegon's back, her gaze fixed on the world unfolding below. They had left the sea behind, and now the verdant patchwork of the Crownlands sprawled beneath them in miniature: dark green forests, golden squares of harvested fields, the brown threads of roads, and the silver ribbons of streams.
Everything was reduced to a tranquil map. People were invisible specks, farms were small patches, and even the walled town of Duskendale passed beneath them like a child's model. The sheer scale was a thrilling, novel quiet that filled her with wonder.
"Would you like to fly a little closer to the ground?" Aegon asked, looking back over his shoulder, his voice carrying easily over the wind.
"No," Gael replied, shaking her head slightly. "The people would be afraid. This is alright."
Aegon nodded, a smile in his eyes. "See those woods ahead, they mark the boundary of the Rosby lands," he said, guiding her gaze.
Soon, the modest holdfast of House Rosby came into view, a small stone cluster against the green, its towers no bigger than her thumb from this height. He pointed. "Castle Rosby."
Gael listened quietly, asking a soft, curious question now and then. They talked easily, the conversation a gentle counterpoint to the rush of the wind.
She felt his hand find hers where they were clasped around his middle. His fingers gave hers a gentle, reassuring squeeze. In response, she tightened her hold in a silent hug, resting her body against his back with a sweet smile. Aegon kept glancing back, not to check the horizon, but to check on her.
It was nice, she thought, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling the sun on her face and the steady beat of the dragon's wings.
Red Keep
"When will they be here?" Daemon asked, pacing the length of the hall with restless energy.
King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon stood together by the hearth, speaking in low tones, while Viserys and Aemma sat at the long table, sharing quiet gossip. Jaehaerys shot an annoyed glance at his grandson. "Sit down, Daemon. They will be here soon. You are a man grown and still have no sign of patience."
Baelon sighed, looking at his son's sour expression. "Patience and Daemon are two very different things."
Aemma smiled gently. "Daemon is not the only one impatient." She nudged her husband. "Some people are just better at hiding it."
Viserys gave a wry smile in return.
A deep, resonant roar echoed from outside, halting the conversation. Daemon was at the window in an instant. "At last! He's here…Wait, he's not alone. Who is that?"
Everyone turned in surprise. Viserys joined his brother at the window, but the great blue dragon had already banked toward the Dragonpit, disappearing from view.
Their answer came moments later when Viserys saw the pair coming through the yard and called out, astonished, "It's Gael. He came with Gael."
Jaehaerys and Baelon exchanged a look of mild surprise, their brows raised. Baelon chuckled. "It seems Aegon has finally coaxed Dreamfyre into allowing a passenger. Good."
Jaehaerys nodded, a small, approving smile on his lips.
The couple entered the hall soon after, a striking sight in their matching blue and black dragonriding leathers. A ripple of quiet amazement went through the family.
"Gael," Aemma said, rising with a warm smile. "It seems you have become a dragonrider too."
Gael beamed and moved to embrace Aemma in greeting.
Aegon approached the King and his father. "Grandfather. Father."
Both nodded in acknowledgment.
Jaehaerys's eyes lingered on Gael, a hint of concern softening his gaze. "How is your mother?"
"She is well, Your Grace," Gael replied, her smile gentle. "Lady Jocelyn and I have been with her. She asked me to tell you to look after your health as well."
Jaehaerys's smile was one of genuine warmth. "Tell her I shall."
"Brother," Viserys said, stepping forward to clasp Aegon in a brief, hearty hug.
Daemon's attention, however, was fixed on the long, narrow bundle tucked under Aegon's arm. Aegon caught his look.
"Daemon."
Daemon finally broke his stare, offering an annoyed smirk. "Why so late? I've been waiting since morning."
Aemma chimed in, her tone playful. "More than waiting, he's been scurrying about like a squirrel in a cage."
Viserys laughed. Daemon shot him a look. "Well, since I've suffered such anxiety, how about letting me have first pick?"
Viserys's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a firm, elder-brother authority. "Absolutely not. The elder comes first."
Aegon watched his brothers bicker with an amused smile. He stepped to the table and carefully laid the long, cloth-wrapped bundle upon it.
The motion silenced the room. Daemon and Viserys immediately leaned in, hands on the table. Baelon and Jaehaerys rose and moved closer. Even Aemma and Gael drifted near, their curiosity piqued.
Holding his family's rapt attention, Aegon slowly unwrapped the bundle, folding back the layers of dark cloth. Inside lay two sheathed swords, resting side by side.
The craftsmanship was immediately apparent. One scabbard was the color of pale ash, its surface smooth and milky white, with a hilt of the same bone-like shade, intricately carved. The other was a deep, dark red, like old wine, with a hilt to match. They were unmistakably a pair… twins in form and artistry, distinguished only by their color.
A heavy silence filled the hall, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire. Every eye was fixed on the blades.
Jaehaerys stared at them for a long moment before speaking. "Valyrian steel… You truly succeeded."
The words were quiet, almost disbelieving.
Aegon smiled faintly and looked first to his grandfather, then to his father. He gestured to the swords. "Grandfather. Father. Would you do the honor?"
Jaehaerys took a slow breath, nodded solemnly and stepped forward. He took the ash-white sword. The weight felt significant in his aged hands. He grasped the pale hilt and slowly drew the blade. It slid from its sheath with a soft, definitive whisper, revealing the familiar, rippling cold glint of Valyrian steel. He held it before him with both hands, the light from the tall windows catching its edge.
"Last Mercy," Aegon said, his voice quiet but clear in the rapt silence. "The sword that is not drawn lightly. When it is, it offers a swift release from mortal pain. It represents firmness, and finality. The Valyrian Steel blade, Last Mercy."
He then turned his gaze to Viserys, who was staring, his breath held. "I forged this one for you, Viserys."
Viserys's eyes flicked from the blade to his brother's face, shining with utmost gratitude.
Jaehaerys took a slow breath, feeling the balance of the weapon, the texture of the grip against his palm. He looked from the eager, solemn face of his grandson Viserys to the calm, expectant face of Aegon. "A fitting name," the Old King said, his voice carrying the weight of decades of judgment. "And a fitting belief to carry."
Aegon then looked to his father and gave a small nod. Baelon reached for the dark red sword. He drew it, and the same flawless Valyrian steel was revealed, its deadly beauty contrasted by the deep, wine-dark hue of its hilt and scabbard. Baelon tested its weight in his hand, shifting his wrist. It was slightly heavier and thicker than Dark Sister, yet the balance was impeccable, feeling like a natural extension of his arm. The dark red was a stark, silent reminder of the purpose of a warrior's tool.
"This one," Aegon announced, "is called The Red Tempest. A sword restless for the contest. When it is unsheathed, it will see blood. It is wrath and action."
He looked around the hall at his gathered family. "Both swords are complementary twins. Alone, each represents its unique principle. Together," he said, letting the implication hang, "they form something greater."
Finally, Aegon's eyes settled on Daemon, who was practically vibrating with covetous intensity. Aegon chuckled softly. "I think everyone knows who this is for."
Baelon and Jaehaerys exchanged a long, knowing look over the blades. In that glance was a shared understanding… not just of the swords' quality, but of the deeper message in their forging. They saw the deliberate symbolism: the stoic, decisive elder and the fierce, passionate younger. They looked at Aegon with newfound acknowledgement, seeing the subtle hand of a brother trying to bind his siblings together in steel and purpose.
Baelon carefully sheathed The Red Tempest, the dark wood of the scabbard swallowing the light-eating blade.
Viserys and Daemon were both nearly glowing with unrestrained happiness, their earlier bickering forgotten in the face of such gifts.
Seeing their joy, Aegon's expression shifted. A slow, warm, and decidedly mischievous smile spread across his face. He turned his gaze back to the King and the Prince of Dragonstone, his tone perfectly polite.
"I do hope, Grandfather, Father, that you will see fit to bestow these swords upon my brothers... publicly. At the ceremony for their knighthood, in front of the entire court. It would be a most memorable occasion."
The effect was instantaneous.
The elated smiles froze on Viserys and Daemon's faces. Their eyes widened in dawning horror as they processed the words. The swords were here, they were theirs in spirit, but they would dangle just out of reach, a reward contingent upon a formal, public event still to come. Viserys looked faintly ill. Daemon's expression shifted from bliss to utter, betrayed outrage. The hall was silent for a beat, then filled with the sound of Jaehaerys's deep, rumbling laugh and Baelon's stifled chuckle, as the two older men understood Aegon's brilliant, slightly wicked, final move.
***
⚔️ BOOST THE PACE ⚔️
Each milestone reached will unlock 1 new chapter within 6 hours of hitting the target. 🔥
📜 Milestones:
100 Power Stones → +1 Chapter ✅
200 Power Stones → +1 Chapter
400 Power Stones → +1 Chapter
***
Thanks for reading!
Read ahead here : patreon.com/Deep__aureate