The Seventh Day of the Second Moon, 114 AC- Evening
The hall of the Red Keep blazed with light and music. Gold and scarlet banners draped from the rafters, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, perfume, and spilled wine. The laughter of lords and ladies mingled with the music of harps and drums, echoing like waves inside the vast chamber.
It was the grandest celebration King's Landing had seen in years, the union of House Targaryen and House Velaryon, a marriage meant to bind fire and sea into one.
Yet beneath the bright lights and flowing wine, everyone knew what it really was. A show of strength. A silent declaration of who ruled the realm's future.
Aegon sat at the royal table beside his mother, his silver-gold hair gleaming in the torchlight. He swirled his cup lazily, half-listening to the chatter of nobles, half-watching the swirl of dancers below. Rhaenyra, radiant in white and gold, danced with her new husband, Laenor Velaryon. The crowd cheered as if they believed in fairy tales.
But Aegon's eyes weren't on them.
His gaze followed a man in the crowd, Joffrey Lonmouth, Laenor's supposed "friend," though everyone knew what he truly was. The knight laughed too easily, spoke too freely, his gaze lingering too long on the groom.
And near the edge of the hall stood Ser Criston Cole. Rigid, solemn, his jaw tight as if every sound of music offended him.
Aegon knew what was coming.
He had heard whispers from the servants, seen the way Criston's hand twitched near his sword when Joffrey's name was mentioned. Somewhere, deep down, he even pitied the man.
Once, Criston had been the image of honor, the common-born knight who rose to guard the royal family. Then Rhaenyra happened. And everything he'd built, every vow he'd sworn, turned to ash.
Aegon leaned back, amused. "This should be interesting," he muttered.
"What are you watching?" came a voice beside him.
Queen Alicent leaned closer, smiling faintly as she peeled a shrimp with graceful precision. Her eyes followed his line of sight toward Joffrey and Criston.
"Do you have a girl in mind?" she asked lightly.
"If I could choose freely," Aegon said, smiling back, "I'd take Laena Velaryon. But we both know that's impossible."
Alicent raised an eyebrow. "Laena rides Vhagar... the strongest dragon alive. Lord Corlys would never permit it."
"I know," Aegon said, shrugging. "Still, one can dream."
But his gaze stayed fixed on the crowd. Joffrey had begun moving toward Criston, smiling as though he were greeting an old friend.
Alicent followed Aegon's eyes, frowning when she spotted Joffrey. Something in her expression sharpened, like a woman spotting a spider on fine silk.
"Aegon," she said softly, "what do you think of Helena?"
He blinked and turned toward her. "Helena?"
Alicent's tone was casual, but her eyes weren't. There was a faint tension in her voice that made Aegon pause.
"She's very sweet," he said after a moment. "Quiet, but clever. And more obedient than Aemond."
Aemond, sitting nearby and happily devouring shrimp, froze mid-bite. "What?" he mumbled, confused.
Helena looked up at the sound of her name, her pale blue eyes dreamy and distant. "Dreamfyre is very powerful," she said softly.
"Of course," Aegon replied with a small smile. "No one doubts Dreamfyre's strength."
Helena nodded once and returned to her food, lost again in her thoughts.
Alicent exhaled quietly, as if relieved. Then she leaned closer again. "Tell me, which lady do you think would suit you best?"
Aegon thought for a moment. "What about a girl from House Tyrell?"
At that, Alicent's face brightened. "A wise choice," she said approvingly. "The Tyrells of Highgarden are wealthy, respected, and command half the Reach. If we align with them, it balances the Velaryons' sea power. Their fleets and armies rival even the Lannisters in strength."
Her eyes gleamed with calculation as she continued, almost to herself. "If House Tyrell joins us, their Redwyne vassals and the Shield Islands fleets could match the Velaryons ship for ship. It would make our position unshakable."
Aegon nodded.
Politics bored him, but he understood its purpose. Mother was always thinking three moves ahead, like a general arranging pieces on a board.
"After the feast," Alicent said, "I'll write to your grandfather. He can visit Highgarden and find a suitable match for you."
"Fine by me," Aegon replied. "As long as she's pretty."
Alicent smiled faintly. "Pretty helps, But you should know, alliances keep crowns on heads."
Aegon raised his cup in silent agreement.
He understood that much. His marriage wouldn't be about love, it would be about power, about securing a future that his father refused to name him for.
"Helena can choose for herself," Alicent added, almost as an afterthought. "She sees things others can't. We shouldn't bind her too tightly."
Helena didn't seem to be listening, murmuring something about silver threads and broken wings as she toyed with a bit of bread.
The music in the hall swelled, and laughter rose around them as more dancers took the floor. But Aegon's attention snapped back to the one pair not dancing.
In the middle of the crowd, Joffrey Lonmouth had finally reached Criston Cole.
Aegon straightened in his seat, eyes narrowing.
The knight of Lonmouth smiled, saying something only Criston could hear. Perhaps it was meant as camaraderie, perhaps mockery, Aegon couldn't tell.
But he saw Criston's expression change.
A muscle in the Kingsguard's jaw twitched.
The hall was too loud for anyone else to notice, but Aegon felt the tension rising like a drawn bowstring. He had seen enough feasts to know when laughter turned into danger.
He glanced toward his mother. Alicent was busy speaking to Lord Beesbury about alliances, unaware of the storm about to break.
Across the table, his father looked weary, half-drunk, smiling through the haze of wine. Viserys seemed content, even proud, believing this night would be remembered for peace.
Aegon almost pitied him.
Because history never remembered peace for long.
Down below, Joffrey placed a hand on Criston's shoulder. A friendly gesture, perhaps. Or perhaps foolish.
Criston's face darkened like a cloud before lightning.
Aegon leaned forward. "Here we go," he whispered.
He could almost hear the sound before it happened, the sudden shift in the music, the gasp from the nearest guests. Then came the movement!
Criston's arm flashing, the fist striking, the crowd parting in shock.
The wedding feast dissolved into chaos.
Aegon didn't move. He simply watched, fascinated, as if witnessing a story unfold exactly as he'd read it in some dusty tome.
Criston's blows rained down with brutal precision. Joffrey tried to defend himself, but it was useless. The laughter died. The music stopped. The hall filled with shouts and the metallic scent of blood.
Aegon exhaled slowly, eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Just as I thought."
Laenor's cry echoed through the hall as he rushed forward, but by then it was too late.
Aegon sat back again, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Around him, panic and confusion erupted. The King shouted for order, Alicent rose to her feet, and servants rushed toward the chaos.
But Aegon just took another sip of wine. For him, the night had unfolded exactly as it was meant to.
He watched the flickering torches, the trembling nobles, the blood-stained floor, and thought, Well... this is only the beginning.
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