The hall fell silent.
Aegon had said nothing outright, yet his meaning hung heavy in the air, impossible to ignore.
Even Alicent hid a smile behind her hand. How amusing, she thought, that Viserys still believed his eldest son to be meek and obedient.
Daemon's violet eyes fixed on Aegon, sharp as drawn steel.
"Silver hair may be a gift from the gods," he said softly, "but even gods have moments of oversight."
His words dripped with threat. He had only just renewed his bond with Rhaenyra, and he would not see her slighted, not even by the King's heir.
Viserys felt the situation slipping from his grasp. "Enough!" he thundered.
"We are one family! We must stand united, not tear each other apart. This farce ends now. I will hear no more of baseless rumors!"
Aegon inclined his head. "Father is right," he said smoothly. "We are a loving family indeed."
He turned, smiling faintly at Rhaenyra and Daemon. "Good night, sister. Good night, uncle."
With that, he strode from the hall.
One by one, Alicent, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron followed, their steps echoing in unison.
Viserys watched them go, unease coiling in his chest. For the first time, he felt the balance of his house shifting... slipping from his hands.
And he was not the only one to see it.
From across the chamber, Lord Corlys Velaryon's expression was grave.
Once, he had believed Otto Hightower to be the mind behind the Greens. When Otto was dismissed, he thought Alicent had taken his place.
Now, as he looked upon the retreating form of Prince Aegon Targaryen, he knew he had been wrong.
The true center of the Greens was neither father nor mother...
*
The day after the funeral, the mourning banners still hung limp in the sea breeze over High Tide.
One by one, the lords and ladies who had gathered for Lady Laena's rites took their leave, exchanging weary courtesies before departing into the gray horizon.
Queen Alicent and King Viserys boarded the royal barge bound for King's Landing. The King's cough had worsened in the salt air, and Alicent would not entrust his care to others.
To still the rumors that now buzzed through every hall and harbor tavern, whispers of bastardy, of shame, of treasonous talk, Viserys made his decree before the court dispersed.
The Queen and her sons were to return to the capital with him. Princess Rhaenyra and her children were to remain upon Dragonstone, and were not to depart without the King's leave.
What surprised Aegon most was another command, Ser Erryk Cargyll of the Kingsguard was to serve as Rhaenyra's personal protector.
Ser Harwin Strong, once known as Breakbones, was dismissed and ordered back to Harrenhal.
Yet Lord Lyonel Strong remained Hand of the King, at least for now.
It mattered little. Aegon knew that before long, Larys Strong, the Clubfoot, would offer his mother a "solution" to her unease. Fire would cleanse both father and brother, and with that, a new power would rise within the Red Keep.
The thought made Aegon's eyes narrow.
Larys Strong was clever, cunning, and useful. But Aegon could not help recalling a detail from the tales he knew... one that left a sour taste.
Was it true that Larys had a… fondness for his mother's feet?
If the Clubfoot ever dared harbor such thoughts, Aegon would gladly put out his eyes and hang him from the Red Keep's gate as warning.
And if Ser Criston Cole, the so-called Kingmaker, nurtured similar desires? Then his fate would be no kinder.
Still, Aegon mused, as long as his mother did not invite such things, neither man would dare.
He glanced toward Alicent across the deck, wondering when and how he might remind her, gently, of her influence.
"Aegon," came the soft, rasping voice of Viserys. "Come. Sit with me on the royal barge."
Aegon blinked, pulled from his thoughts.
"As you wish, Father," he said with a nod.
"You three will ride your dragons home," Viserys continued. "When you reach the city, circle above King's Landing three times before you land. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father!"
Aemond's eyes gleamed with excitement.
Patience was a virtue Aegon often preached to his younger brother, but rarely did Aemond practice it. Boldness burned in his blood, and now that he had claimed Vhagar, the fire within him only roared louder.
Helaena and Daeron, by contrast, were calm and quiet, though a trace of happiness softened their faces.
Flying beside their brothers was joy enough.
Before boarding the barge, Aegon turned once more to them.
"Take good care of Daeron," he instructed. "Keep Dreamfyre and Tessarion from the Dragonpit , and stay close to Vhagar."
When the royal fleet pushed off from the Driftmark shore, the dragons took to the skies.
Sunfyre rose first, gleaming gold in the sun as he followed the ship's wake.
Behind him, Vhagar and Dreamfyre launched from the cliffs with earth-shaking power, wings blotting out the light as they soared after the fleet.
Tessarion, still young and smaller by half, struggled to match their pace, her blue wings beating desperately against the wind, until Helaena and Aemond, remembering Aegon's words, slowed and let her catch the air beside them.
Together, the three dragons swept toward the capital, shadows over sea and sun.
In the royal cabin, the King and his eldest son sat across from each other.
Aegon wore his usual pleasant smile, polite, composed, but Viserys, dulled as he was by sickness and grief, could sense the current beneath the calm.
"Tell me," Viserys began, his voice low. "Was it your idea that Aemond should seek Vhagar?"
"No," Aegon replied evenly. "I never urged him to do it. That was Vhagar's choice as much as his."
"Then you knew?"
Viserys's tone sharpened. The question was a formality; he already knew the answer. He had seen the boy dressed and waiting that night, no trace of sleep in his eyes.
"Yes," said Aegon. "I watched him go."
A silence followed, thick, heavy as the fog over the sea.
"Why didn't you stop him?" Viserys asked at last. "He's ten, Aegon. What if he had failed? And last night, you've never spoken so harshly to your sister before. Why now?"
The King's voice trembled, not with anger but with something closer to pleading. He looked at his son as though hoping for a reason... any reason, that would absolve him of what he already feared.
Aegon rose without haste, poured a cup of wine, and placed it before his father.
"Father," he said softly, "do you know how old I am this year?"
Viserys blinked, taken aback by the question. "Thirteen, if I recall correctly. Why do you ask?"
Aegon smiled faintly.
"Yes. Thirteen. Old enough to wield a sword. Old enough to ride. Sunfyre is stronger than any young dragon his age, and my brother has now tamed Vhagar herself.
Add Dreamfyre and Tessarion to that, and tell me, Father... do you still think I must be cautious?"
Viserys stared at him, lips trembling. In his eyes flickered confusion, unease... and a reluctant glimmer of pride.
"You mean to take Rhaenyra's inheritance," he said quietly.
The words hung between them like a blade.
He both hoped Aegon would deny it, and dreaded that he might. For though Viserys had once favored his daughter above all, Aegon had become something he could not ignore, strong, graceful and commanding.
Aegon said nothing. His smile faded; his face became unreadable stone.
Only when Viserys, unable to bear the silence, opened his mouth again did Aegon finally speak.
"What are you saying, Father?" His voice was calm, almost gentle. "I want only to protect myself, and my family.
If my sister hates me once she's queen, at least I'll have the means to flee to Essos.
If she does not, then I will serve her faithfully, as a good brother should. You needn't worry."
Viserys looked away. Guilt prickled beneath his crown.
Aegon was every inch the prince he had always hoped his heir would be, intelligent, measured, capable.
But he had not been born of Rhaenyra. He was Alicent's son.
And so fate, and his own past choices, had made the path between them impossible.
The King sighed and rose, weary to the bone.
"I have wronged you, my son," he said softly. "Rest well."
When he was gone, the smile vanished from Aegon's face.
So Viserys had sought to test him, and he, in turn, had tested Viserys.
The old man's apology had come far too soon.
In time... when Rhaenyra and her brood lay cold and ash beneath the sky.... that same confession, I have wronged you, would belong to him.
---------------------
A/N: The plot is just starting to heat up, and trust me… the next chapters go crazy. So if you're curious about what's coming next, go take a sneak peek:
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