"As you wish," Larys said with a nod.
"Go make the preparations, and while you're at it, send Hugh to me," Aegon ordered with a dismissive wave.
Larys bowed and turned to leave, his limp echoing faintly down the corridor.
He found Hugh in a quiet corner of the keep, bent over a book, brow furrowed in concentration.
"Lord Hugh," Larys said smoothly. "His Highness requests your presence."
Hugh looked up, startled for only a moment before nodding. "I'll go at once. My thanks for the message, Lord Larys."
"You're welcome," Larys replied, keeping his tone humble and warm.
Though Hugh held no title, everyone in the Red Keep knew whose ear he possessed. Even the men of the Small Council treated him with courtesy they rarely extended to lesser-born knights.
*
When Hugh entered Aegon's chambers, he bowed. "Your Highness, you called for me?"
"I did," Aegon replied. "Come in, Ser Hugh."
As the knight stepped closer, his eyes caught movement near the wardrobe. Princess Helaena stood there, slender fingers brushing over the fabric of a gown half-unfolded. The soft blue silk gleamed like a ripple of water, her hair pinned loosely in the back with a silver clasp shaped like a moth.
"Princess," Hugh said quickly, lowering his head, "it's an honor to meet you."
Helaena turned, blinking as though his sudden formality had startled her. Then she smiled, gently, almost shyly. "There's no need to be so polite, ser. I've seen you before, in the training yard," she said. "You looked rather fierce with that sword."
A faint flush touched the knight's cheeks. "Fierce, Your Grace? I only hope I looked competent."
Her laughter was soft, like wind chimes in a breeze. "Competent, then."
Aegon's lips twitched, but he said nothing.
He only observed- his future wife's tone, her ease, the way she moved now without the timid restraint she once carried like a second skin. Since the betrothal had been announced, she had changed in surprising ways. she seemed… lighter. As if some hidden weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The gloom of her dragon dreams no longer clouded her face. She smiled more often, spoke without hesitation.
Perhaps, Aegon mused, this was her true nature, buried beneath years of whispers about her strange visions and soft-spoken ways.
Hugh bowed again, more formally this time. "You are the future queen, Princess. I should respect you as I respect His Highness. It concerns my duty and my attitude, both."
Helaena tilted her head. "Duty is good," she murmured. "But kindness makes duty easier to bear, don't you think?"
Hugh hesitated. "I- suppose it does, Princess."
Her smile deepened, bright yet distant in that peculiar way that belonged only to her. "Then be kind, ser. The world is cruel enough without another sword striking too soon."
Helaena only smiled again and returned to folding Aegon's garments herself, refusing help from the maids.
"Sit," Aegon said. "We've things to discuss."
Hugh obeyed.
"I hear Lady Martha bore you another daughter?" Aegon asked.
"Yes, Your Highness," Hugh said, his face softening. "A healthy girl. We named her Marchery."
"A daughter is a blessing," Aegon said with a grin. "You're fortunate, to have both a son and a daughter."
Hugh smiled faintly, though his eyes dimmed. "Shocker's health… is failing. Archmaester Mellos says he may not live past sixteen. Even five more years would be a mercy."
Aegon fell silent, searching for words that would not sound hollow. Shocker's ailment was congenital, his heart too weak for the life of a knight's son.
They had done all they could, even calling on the Citadel's healers.
"You've already done more than enough, Your Highness," Hugh said quietly. "If not for you, Shocker would have been taken by the Stranger long ago."
"Don't speak so," Aegon said firmly. "I'll send more gold and men to the Citadel. If there's a way to prolong his life, we'll find it. Spend what time you can with him."
Hugh bowed his head deeply. "My thanks, Your Highness."
Aegon leaned back in his chair. "Let's speak of lighter matters. Have you thought about Marchery's future marriage?"
The question caught Hugh off guard. His mind flashed back to years past, to when he first swore himself to Aegon not for glory, but to lift Martha and their children from the gutter.
And when Aegon had ridden to Oldtown himself to seek aid for Shocker… Hugh's loyalty had become devotion.
"Your Highness, Marchery is but a month old," he said, confused. "Naturally, there are no such plans yet."
Aegon nodded slowly. "You've served me six years now, haven't you?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Hugh said. "Six years... and every day, I've learned under your guidance."
Aegon's gaze turned distant.
He remembered his own beginning, held aloft in the hands of a midwife while the realm celebrated Viserys's long-awaited son.
But joy had soured with time. Rhaenyra grew, and with her, his own path narrowed. Viserys had bound half the realm to her cause.
Aegon had spent his youth in study and preparation, sharpening mind and body while waiting for his chance.
Only with Helaena's Dreamfyre and his own Sunfyre growing strong did he dare to move, first through his mother's influence, and later, in his own name.
And when Aemond claimed Vhagar, the balance had truly begun to tilt.
He had moved swiftly, too swiftly. Twenty Black sympathizers cast out, and for that… Viserys had exiled him from court.
His jaw tightened.
"You've served me faithfully," Aegon said. "Yet I've never granted you title or land. Do you resent me for that?"
"Never," Hugh said at once. "If not for Your Highness, my son would be dead. I owe you everything."
Aegon nodded approvingly. "Good. Then hear this, I intend for Marchery to wed my second son, once both are of age. You have no objection, I trust?"
The words struck Hugh like a blow. "My- Your Highness… that cannot be," he stammered. "I'm a bastard. If you hadn't lifted me up, I'd still be working the forge. My daughter isn't fit to wed your blood."
"Marchery is a lovely child," Helaena said gently, coming to stand beside her husband. "But she's far too young, and her birth… it might cause talk."
"Status," Aegon said, waving a hand, "is the easiest thing to change. When I take the throne, I'll see you legitimized. You'll bear your mother's name again."
It was no small promise. In Westeros, bastards were common enough, but to be legitimized by royal decree was to be reborn.
Rhaenyra herself had done so once, for the Velaryon boys of Hull.
Hugh dropped to one knee, overwhelmed. "Your Highness… to restore my mother's name, there is no greater gift."
"Rise," Aegon said, smiling faintly. "I'm not King yet. And the Iron Throne is no easy seat to claim."
"History, law, and blood... all say it belongs to you," Hugh said fiercely. "I swear upon my life, I'll give all I have to see you crowned."
Aegon's eyes gleamed. "Then I accept your oath. And there is something... something I must entrust to you personally."
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