The corridor beyond the throne room was quiet, muffled by thick stone and old tapestries. Torchlight flickered along the walls as Aegon walked. His boots echoed softly against the floor.
Two Kingsguard stood before a heavy door of dark oak banded with iron. At his approach, they straightened and gave a short bow.
"My Prince"
Aegon returned the nod and pushed the door open.
The chamber beyond was vast but dim, its air cool and heavy with the scent of wax and old stone. At its center rose a massive pedestal of black rock, and upon it rested the skull of a dragon so large it seemed to dwarf the room itself. The hollow eye sockets yawned like caverns. The fanged jaws were frozen in a silent snarl that had once shaken kingdoms.
Balerion.
Candles surrounded the pedestal in careful rings, their flames steady and reverent, their light painting the skull in gold and shadow. Some burned low, others stood newly lit.
King Jaehaerys stood near the altar, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze lifted toward the skull.
Aegon slowed as he approached.
"Balerion," he murmured.
Jaehaerys turned at the sound of his voice, noticing him and smiled softly.
"Grandfather," Aegon said, bowing his head slightly.
The king followed his gaze back to the skull. "After he died," Jaehaerys said quietly, "I had him brought here. Not to be hidden away. Not to be forgotten." His voice carried both reverence and loss. "This dragon founded our house. He carried Aegon the Conqueror across fire and blood. Without him, there is no Iron Throne. No Targaryen rule."
He gestured to the altar, to the candles. "This will be a sacred place now. For us, and for those who come after. Every child of our line will stand here one day. They will look upon him and remember what built our dynasty… and what it cost."
Aegon said nothing. He stepped forward instead, his movements careful. He took one of the unlit candles between his fingers.
He leaned in and touched it to the flame of a neighboring candle.
The wick caught.
Light bloomed, small but steady.
Jaehaerys watched him as the flame settled.
They stood in silence for a long moment. The candles whispered softly as melted wax ran down their sides.
At last, Jaehaerys turned to him, the heaviness easing from his expression. A faint smile returned.
"You said you wished to speak with me alone," he said gently.
Aegon nodded, his face serious now.
"Yes, Grandfather," he replied.
Aegon glanced down at the altar. Wax had pooled in uneven rings around the candles.
He took another breath. "Once you bestow the Valyrian swords on my brothers," he began, "my ability to forge Valyrian steel will be revealed to the world."
The words fell into the chamber like stones into a deep well.
Jaehaerys's expression shifted. The faint smile that had lingered there disappeared. A crease formed between his brows. He turned his head slightly.
Aegon continued. "Other houses will come. They will ask. They will offer gifts and favors and promises. Some will pressure in quieter ways. They will not allow the matter to rest."
For a moment, Jaehaerys looked up at Balerion's skull again. He nodded once. His mind had already gone ahead, measuring consequences.
"I had not yet considered the flood that follows the first stone," Jaehaerys said softly.
Aegon gave a small sigh and nodded. "Of course I can refuse them outright," he said. "I can say no to every request."
Jaehaerys lifted his gaze to him, and Aegon saw the question there.
What then?
"But in doing so," Aegon went on, "my ability would be wasteful. It would be a power left sitting in a chest. It would also create resentment. It would make enemies for no gain." He paused, then added, very carefully, "It is better that I continue forging. It is better that we exchange each blade for its equivalent value."
At that, Jaehaerys's eyes brightened. Not with greed. With the sharp light of a ruler who sees a lever appear.
"Equivalent value," the king repeated. "What value?"
Aegon did not answer at once. He began to pace, slow and measured, around the altar. His boots made soft sounds against stone.
"The knowledge of forging Valyrian steel has been lost since the Doom," Aegon said. His voice steadied as he spoke facts. "The swords that exist now are treated as priceless heirlooms of the great houses." He stopped near the pedestal, close enough that he could clearly see the old bone.
"And currently only I am able to forge Valyrian steel."
The words carried weight. Not just in the chamber. In the realm. In the future.
Jaehaerys did not speak. He only watched Aegon, and something shifted behind the king's eyes. Understanding settled there. The realization of monopoly. The realization of control.
Aegon turned back to him. "It would be preposterous if we exchange it for mere gold."
Jaehaerys's mouth twitched at that, the faintest sign of agreement. Gold was common. Gold was everywhere. Gold bought food and soldiers and walls, yes. But gold did not seem enough.
"I have prepared a plan," Aegon said, "for what we should exchange the swords for."
He reached into his pocket and drew out a scroll. The parchment was rolled tight and bound with a simple tie. He held it for a moment, feeling its weight, then stepped forward and offered it.
Jaehaerys looked at the scroll, then at Aegon, surprise briefly overtaking his composure. As he unrolled it, candlelight washed over the ink.
Aegon watched the king's eyes track the heading.
"Royal Knight's Academy," Jaehaerys read aloud.
Aegon saw the king's brows lift, just slightly, then settle again. Curiosity replaced surprise.
"It is a plan," Aegon said. "A plan that will benefit us. For the future of our House."
Jaehaerys remained silent, but he held the scroll at a better angle to read. The candlelight gilded the parchment.
Aegon took another breath. He had to speak clearly. He needed the king's respect. He needed the king to see this as more than a boy's scheme.
"House Targaryen has dragons," Aegon said. "Yes they fear us. But are the people really loyal to us." He paused, letting the question sit. "Even now, people call themselves rivermen, or valemen. They are loyal to their lords and their regions. For the commonfolk, we who ride dragons are too far. Their loyalty lies with the lords whose lands they live in."
Jaehaerys's eyes lifted from the scroll. They were sharper now. Focused.
Aegon felt the attention.
"The Royal Knight's Academy would be like the Citadel," Aegon said, "but instead of scholars, it would take willing and qualified youngsters from the commonfolk and make them knights."
He began to pace again, slower now. "For four years straight, they will stay within the school. They will train under the best master at arms. They will learn from the best maesters. They will learn what a knight should know. Reading and sums, basic law, discipline, strategy. They will learn how to serve in peace, not only how to kill in war."
Jaehaerys's expression did not soften, but Aegon saw the king's eyes narrow slightly. He was imagining it.
Aegon continued, careful to keep the structure clear. "We will test them repeatedly through those four years. Those who fail will be dismissed. We will keep only the best. At the end, they graduate as full fledged reserve knights."
The word reserve mattered. Aegon watched for the king's reaction.
Jaehaerys gave a faint nod, as if the idea of a trained pool of loyal armed men was already forming in his mind.
"And then," Aegon said, "they will demonstrate their skills and knowledge before all the great houses of Westeros. The noble houses can bid fairly for them. The reserve knights will choose the house they want to swear fealty to."
He stopped pacing. He looked directly at the king now. "For the commoners, it is a leap. A blacksmith's son, a cobbler's son, it does not matter. If they are fit and capable, they can become knights through hard work. For the nobles, it means getting knights with full skills and knowledge. Not a warrior who is suddenly made a knight because he killed well one day."
Jaehaerys's mouth tightened slightly, thoughtful. He looked down at the scroll again. His fingers shifted.
Then the king frowned and gave a short, almost amused sound. A chuckle.
"The idea is good," Jaehaerys said, "but there will be a huge cost. To maintain this academy. Teachers. Food. Housing. Arms. Horses. The sort of expense that grows teeth."
Aegon nodded at once. He had expected it.
"We do not have to pay a single coin from our coffers," Aegon said.
Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow at that.
Aegon kept his voice steady. "The houses themselves will pay a tax for the maintenance of the academy."
Jaehaerys's brows drew together again, but this time the frown was different. He was calculating now. He was turning it around like a coin, checking its weight and edge.
Aegon continued before the king could object. "This is where Valyrian swords come in. Each great house who becomes patron of this academy will receive an heirloom Valyrian sword."
The words rang in the chamber. For a moment, even the candles seemed quiet.
Jaehaerys's gaze lifted sharply. Aegon saw it click into place behind his eyes. The trade. The leverage. The way pride would do the work money could not.
Aegon smiled, small and controlled. "The benefits do not end there."
He took a step closer to the altar, as if speaking under Balerion's shadow made the words more honest. "During their four years, we teach them the narrative of House Targaryen and our importance. These youngsters with their dream of becoming knights will be easier to mold."
"We will make them loyal to Westeros, and not the regions they came from."
He watched Jaehaerys closely. The king did not flinch. He did not pretend such shaping was beneath him. Jaehaerys had shaped the realm for decades. Shaping boys was simple by comparison.
"The academy becomes hope," Aegon went on. "For the common class. If we keep joining requirements simple, physical soundness and ability, then the commonfolk will know they can stay fit and join. They can earn knighthood through hard work. No more reliance on the whims of lords."
"The news of the academy would be spread wide across the realm"
His voice lowered slightly. "Any lord acting against the academy will look like he is denying hope to the commonfolk."
Jaehaerys's expression did not change, but Aegon saw the king's eyes move, distant for a moment, as though he was already picturing angry crowds and grateful ones.
"The academy would also act as a reserve garrison army," Aegon added, "if any need arises. All at the expense of the noble houses."
That line settled like iron.
Jaehaerys stopped reading. He held the scroll in both hands now, fully engaged. The earlier amusement had vanished completely. He read again, eyes moving faster, then slower, pausing at certain lines. The candles reflected in his pupils.
Aegon stood beside him, silent. He let the king absorb it. He watched the king's face shift through thought, through approval, through doubt. The old man did not hide it. He did not perform. He considered.
Minutes passed. The chamber felt colder. Wax dripped. The skull loomed.
At last, Aegon spoke gently, not to interrupt, but to offer space. "Grandfather," he said. "There is time. No need to hurry."
Jaehaerys did not look up yet.
"Though it would be best," Aegon added, "if it could be announced after the knighthood ceremony of my brothers."
That made Jaehaerys lift his gaze. He looked at Aegon with something close to fond amazement.
Jaehaerys took a long breath. His chest rose and fell slowly. He looked past Aegon, back at Balerion's skull, and for a moment the old melancholy returned. He looked tired, and also very alive.
"The last child of Alyssa," he said softly, more to himself than to Aegon.
Aegon felt his throat tighten again. He did not speak. He let the king have the thought.
Then Jaehaerys looked back at him. "Dragonrider at seven," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Then pyromancer." His eyes dropped to the scroll. "Now this."
Aegon held his hands behind his back and said in a firm tone. "The scroll contains all I have said," he said, "and some more details. With your decades of experience, you will definitely see the shortcomings. You will see what I missed."
Jaehaerys finally gave a wry smile, the kind that made him look both kingly and grandfatherly in the same breath.
"Oh, little Aegon," he said. "You just gave your grandfather a lot of work."
The words would have sounded like scolding from another man. From Jaehaerys, it sounded like affection wrapped around iron.
He rolled the scroll back up with care and held it in one hand. Then he turned his head toward the door and raised his voice, sudden and sharp.
"Guard."
Almost immediately, the heavy door opened. Two Kingsguard entered, their white cloaks ruffling behind.
Jaehaerys did not waste words. "Let the Hand know to come to my chambers tomorrow morning. We will discuss important matters."
One of the Kingsguard nodded at once. "As you command, Your Grace."
He turned and left swiftly, the door closing behind him with a soft, final sound.
The remaining Kingsguard stayed, silent and motionless.
Jaehaerys looked at Aegon again, and his tone softened. "Come," he said. "Walk me to my chambers. I still have questions."
Aegon allowed himself a small smile. Relief mixed with anticipation.
He nodded. "Yes, Grandfather."
Jaehaerys turned from the altar first, Aegon followed at his side as they crossed the chamber, their footsteps quiet together. Behind them, the candles continued to burn.
***
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