Prince Aegon Targaryen, Prince of Dragon's Heart
"No, what a beast!" Viserys marveled yet again, craning his neck skyward such that his jagged crown threatened to tumble from his head and clatter down the stone masonry of the castle wall.
"And the dragon is not bad either," Daemon added mockingly.
"I was speaking of him."
"Were you? It seemed to me you spoke of your son."
The Master of Dragons merely chuckled at this brotherly exchange of courtesies. His entire attention was occupied by the dazzlingly golden dragon soaring in the sky above Dragonstone. Rising currents of air filled the bright pink wing membranes, reminiscent in color of the dawn sky. A ringing roar was heard, containing pure boyish joy of flight, pride in his own success, and a desire to announce it to the whole world, after which the young dragon banked into a new turn. Aegon nodded with satisfaction: in the air, Sunfyre—as his namesake nephew had named his beast—held himself more confidently now, despite the weight of the saddle, chains, reins, and his own rider.
"Is he a songbird as well?" Daemon inquired.
"Yes, he is quite vocal," Aegon nodded.
"Resembles a canary."
None of the three brothers could withstand this comparison, and they burst into laughter.
When Viserys permitted his firstborn to saddle a dragon for his tenth name day, there was no limit to the young Prince's delight—the royal family had to sail for Dragonstone that very week because Aegon the Younger could speak of nothing but dragons and within a couple of hours drove Queen Alicent to despair by promising to saddle Vhagar herself. His mother tried to forbid it, but the little impudent fellow declared categorically that she understood nothing of dragons, and her opinion on this matter was not considered. However, no sooner had he arrived on the island and seen Queen Visenya's mighty she-dragon in the sky than all his resolve evaporated somewhere—Vhagar was immediately pronounced an "old hag" unsuitable for a prince, and everyone sighed with relief.
However, the rejection of Vhagar presented the Master of Dragons with a new problem: from the proliferated young, one individual had to be chosen, strong enough to carry a saddle with a ten-year-old child, and yet docile enough for him to handle. Naturally, the dragon also had to catch the fancy of its future rider, and he proved quite fastidious. Several silvery-blue dragonlings were rejected due to their nondescript appearance, another, reddish-copper, proved too small, and a cobalt-blue she-dragon did not even glance at the Prince, whereas a golden-silver youth with pink wings drew attention to himself. Syrax's younger brother loved to show off before people and his brethren, and among all the dragon youth, was perhaps the boldest.
One glance at his nephew was enough for Aegon to understand: he had found his dragon. The Prince nudged the boy, and he took a couple of steps toward the golden beauty, and moments later the dragon himself nudged the Prince for affection, receiving both it and a name worthy of his appearance. Several days were spent getting better acquainted; during this time, the Dragonkeepers managed to fashion a saddle and harness, and the royal family heard their fill of childish raptures about the beautiful, wondrous, magnificent, incomparable, godlike Sunfyre.
The Prince of Dragon's Heart himself perceived these admirations with detachment: Viserys's eldest son was not the first child to saddle a dragon with his help of late, and emotions overflowing the brim were not simply nothing new, but frankly tiring. It was a novelty when Alyssa first climbed onto the Red Dancer; when Jaehaerys took to the sky on his Vermax two years ago, Daemon took the main brunt; finally, when last year, as winter finally yielded to spring, Baela and Rhaena went on their first flight on Sunset and Morning, Aegon, as befitted a father, was nearby and shared this moment with them. However, listening to the same thing for the fifth time was hard.
The first flight turned out short and not very elegant—Sunfyre wanted to fly higher, but the unusual weight pulled him to the ground, and besides, the young Prince jerked the reins foolishly and only hindered him. It ended with fingers scraped to the blood by an overwrought Alicent, a lump on Aegon's forehead, who managed to get tangled in the stirrup during dismounting and fall headfirst, and the unrestrained laughter of the other children. Now, by the fourth flight, both dragon and rider felt each other better and enjoyed together the freedom given by membranous wings.
"Have you told Alicent that he will have to fly to King's Landing?" Aegon asked casually.
"Do you want to make me a widower again?" Viserys grimaced. "It seems to me she will start turning grey by the end of the month. Yesterday she threw a tantrum when Aemond hinted at a dragon of his own."
"She understands that such questions are not for her to decide, does she not?" the Master of Dragons asked ingratiatingly.
"She believes I endanger the children by allowing them to mess with dragons so early."
"And when should they mess with them?"
"Not before knightly spurs, or even betrothal. She intends to keep Helaena from this altogether."
"Forgive me, Viserys, but if a woman is a fool, it is forever," the Prince Hand stated flatly.
"She believes it affects childbearing poorly," the King was either justifying his spouse or complaining about her. "She says our mother is an example, and Grandmother would have had more children left had she not flown on Silverwing."
"That is in no way connected," Aegon grimaced, and the benevolent mood born of contemplating the dragon flight evaporated as if it had never been. "One might think all women die on the birthing bed and lose children only because they fly on dragons. It is ridiculous."
"I told her the same. I said: Aemma was afraid to look at dragons, and Alicent went off even worse..."
The King certainly blurted out about Aemma in vain. Alicent did not like being reminded of her predecessor and tried to do everything so that the memory of the first queen would soon stand in line with the memory of Good Queen Alysanne—something half-forgotten, something from the last century. Over eleven years of dominance at court, she gradually updated the decoration of the Red Keep, removing from the royal chambers any hint that Aemma Arryn had once been mistress here. Alicent donated a sum so large to the decoration of the Great Sept on Visenya's Hill that it could be considered indecent were it not a gift to the glory of the Faith, and as a result, the sanctuary, built under the name of the Sept of Queen Aemma, shortened its name to the Queen's Sept.
On the one hand, she could be understood: what wife likes it when her husband sets a late spouse as an example to the living one? On the other hand, not everyone liked the struggle against the legacy of the previous queen. Princess Rhaenyra became an ardent opponent of this, whom the erasure of her mother's name drove into a frenzy.
The increasingly unpleasant conversation about Queen Alicent was interrupted by the appearance of a clamoring crowd of children rushing along the castle walls to their fathers. Courtiers, a small part of the royal retinue, mostly lords of the Narrow Sea, shied away from the passage, pressing into the walls and almost jumping into the narrow arrow slits, making way for the young generation of House Targaryen. In a little over ten years, it had increased to fourteen souls and threatened to increase even more—Rhaenyra, unlike Alicent and Laena, did not plan to limit herself to four children and, having given birth to a fifth, was heavy with child again.
Aegon noted not without pleasure that Baela broke out from the general heap on a par with Alyssa, trying not to yield to her cousin in anything, despite the difference of three years. Behind them, racing each other, ran his Aemon with Jace and Aemond, and further back Rhaena and Helaena dragged along the hand-holding Daeron, Aemma, and Baelon, barely keeping up with the elders.
Alyssa ruled the brood of princes and princesses. Primacy went to her not only by virtue of seniority but also thanks to her character, inherited from her grandmother along with her name. Two-thirds of all mischief began at her initiative (Baela bravely took the remaining third upon herself), and one could only pray to all the gods of Westeros and Valyria when all her brothers, sisters, and cousins gathered under her command, for she was capable of involving both the outwardly calm Rhaena and the withdrawn Helaena in a general childish conspiracy, and the princes looked into her mouth and were already preparing to fight in a tournament for her favor. The Princess herself only laughed at these clumsy childish courtships from the height of her eleven years and declared that she would go out against any suitor with a sword in her hands herself.
However, this time she was not the expresser of general aspirations.
"Papa, Papa!" a breathless Baela nearly slammed into Aegon at full run. "Papa, can we fly too?"
"We?" the crafty father asked again.
"Well, Rhaena and I, Alyssa and Jace!"
"And the rest will run after you on the ground?"
"Aegon is already flying," Alyssa cut in. "We want to join him. Kostilus, kepus (Please, uncle)!"
The Princess could twist her father around her finger, especially if she spoke to him in Valyrian. But this time he only measured her along with the whole company with a sly look and instead of answering asked himself:
"What say you, Master of Dragons?"
Aegon looked up.
"Sunfyre is older than your dragons, but he is still only learning to obey his rider. In a sense, he is a lackwit compared to the Red Dancer or Sunset. Gods know how he will react to your company; let us not risk it."
"Oh, Papa!"
"Another time, sweetling."
"The Master of Dragons said 'no', did you hear? You will fly with your cousin later," Daemon knew how to be strict with children when he wanted, and they expectedly grew dejected. Aegon, however, was not deceived by his tone: both he and the laugh lines in the corners of his narrowed eyes promised worthy compensation. "But perhaps I shall fly with you in the evening."
"Truly?!" Jaehaerys nearly jumped out of his breeches for joy.
"Truly."
"You are not lying?" Alyssa clarified warily. Unlike her younger brother, she already understood that adults do not always keep promises to children, but still believed that asking again could yield a truthful answer.
"I am not lying," Daemon said and ruffled his daughter's already disheveled hair. "But only if Maester Gerardys is pleased with you today."
"That is unfair!"
"But just. We need no ignorant riders, do we, Your Grace?"
"True," the King nodded very seriously.
"Scholars are not needed either," Aemond grumbled. He envied his elder brother terribly, and when the latter was allowed to saddle a dragon and he was not, he sulked terribly at everyone.
"That is not so, son," Viserys said gently and a little confusedly. "Simply..."
"I know more than Aegon! I learn better than him, tell him, Uncle!"
"That is so," the Prince of Dragon's Heart was forced to admit.
"Then why..."
"You can go to the hatchery right now and choose a dragon for yourself, if you are sure it will not bite off your hand."
"I am not..." the Prince began, but cut himself off.
Aegon noticed a shadow of doubt flit across his nephew's face and, having achieved the desired reaction, nodded with satisfaction.
"You see?"
"I am not... I am not afraid!"
"Not absence of fear will save your hand, but knowledge, reaction speed, and the ability to quickly calculate possible variants of events. While you or any of you have neither one, nor the other, nor the third, you shall have no saddles."
"But Aegon..."
"Your father and I deemed his abilities sufficient to hold a dragon in check. More questions?"
"No."
"Then go."
The children left them no longer in such orderly ranks as they had run to them. Alyssa, Baela, and Jace went almost skipping, anticipating the evening flight. Aemond left offended at the whole world and universal injustice again, and Helaena, without thinking long, caught up with him and, catching his hand, walked beside him—his sister's company always had a calming effect on him. Rhaena habitually took upon herself the care of the younger cousins, vying with each other about what great riders they would grow up to be and with childish directness promising each other to saddle Vhagar, and the late Balerion, and the quite healthy Meleys. Only Aemon lingered by his father.
"And when can I fly on Orbaris?" he asked.
Aegon had placed an egg in his first son's cradle, one of two he had left in the new hatchery in the Smoky Vale. A couple of months later, a smoky-grey she-dragon with golden horns and silvery membranes hatched from it, receiving the name Orbaris. At first, the Prince of Dragon's Heart wanted to give Aemon a saddle for his seventh name day, but the gods and fate had generously endowed his son—in build he took after his grandfather—and, upon sound reflection, Aegon decided to wait until the young she-dragon grew stronger. After all, carrying almost a squire on her back was not the same as frail girls. Since then, a rare week passed without the question most exciting the boy.
"Soon," Aegon answered habitually.
Aemon sighed just as habitually and trudged after his cousins and sisters.
"You have made me the strict grumpy uncle again," Aegon said disappointedly.
"Forgive me, but this role suits you very well," Daemon laughed. "Uncle Vaegon's legacy lives on."
"He manages well enough himself," the eldest brother chimed in.
"And you, Viserys, for the sake of all the gods, talk to your children already. They will tear each other apart over dragons."
"Helaena seems not to need one very much..."
"And I am not speaking of Helaena," Aegon cut him off.
"Very well," he sighed. "Perhaps we should not have put Aegon on a dragon so early. There would not be all these foolish tantrums."
"You gave him such a gift yourself," the Prince Hand reminded him, raising his gaze to the golden dragon in the sky again. By all appearances, Sunfyre was weary and began to descend gradually. Aegon in the saddle jerked his hands somewhat foolishly again, instead of loosening the reins.
"Well, I did not know Aemond would be so jealous!"
"And who will know this about your sons?"
"Curse it, why did I not hear such complaints from Grandmother about Father and Uncle Aemon?" Aegon shook his head.
"Because Grandfather attended to this himself," Viserys explained. "And Father did not saddle Vhagar for nothing, but not to be in the shadow of his brother with his Caraxes. It seems they quarreled then for the only time in their lives."
"Is that why you decided to outdo everyone by choosing the Black Dread?" Daemon pricked him, but as soon as the King grimaced as if from a toothache, he hastened to soften the effect. "Well, you succeeded quite well."
Meanwhile, Sunfyre finally landed on the slope of the Dragonmont, slightly above the castle, where dragonkeepers awaited dragon and rider. This time Aegon climbed out of the saddle much slower and more circumspectly, clearly trying not to lose face not only before his father watching him but also before his brothers and cousins, who had managed to slip out of the castle and were now hurrying to him. Once on the ground, the young Prince immediately pressed himself against the dragon's hide, embracing the graceful neck with his arms, and Sunfyre himself, who loved affection, coiled around him.
"No, still, it is a very beautiful beast," the King noted with pleasure again. "It is good that you found him, Aegon; it could not have been better."
"I serve Your Grace," the Master of Dragons offered a mock half-bow.
Nodding again, more to himself than to his brother, Viserys went down toward the castle, sweeping the black stone slabs with his black mantle. Aegon and Daemon exchanged glances and moved after him, though the youngest of the princes wanted to observe the young dragons, winged and otherwise, a little longer. A pair of Kingsguard moved behind like silent white shadows in company with a grey shadow—only the oath of loyalty to a specific prince and the presence of a wife distinguished Ser Dennis from the white brothers.
"When do you intend to return to King's Landing?" Daemon inquired of his elder brother when they descended from the walls into the Conqueror's Garden.
"Not earlier than next week."
"Sunfyre needs to get used to the saddle," Aegon supported the decision. "And my namesake nephew needs to learn to handle his grips and reins."
"But you will accompany him?"
"Where would I go..."
"I ask not without reason," Daemon returned to his question. "I want to visit the Karlarises."
"Alone?"
"With Alyssa. Callio begged me simply to take her with me last time."
"I see nothing wrong in that," Aegon shrugged. "The Red Dancer is already capable of crossing the Narrow Sea. If anything, she can sit on Caraxes' tail."
"And it will be useful to remind the Pentoshi that Callio's niece is the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"That is correct," Viserys nodded approvingly, but immediately frowned with concern. "Wait, but what of Rhaenyra?"
"Gerardys says she has half her term left to carry, so we shall manage to return."
"Well, then fly."
Not a year had passed without Daemon visiting his former brother-in-law; when Alyssa grew up, he began taking her with him, first in his own saddle, and now decided to make the flight together. Visits to Pentos were not only a tribute to the memory of the late Princess Calla Karlaris, and not even so much to maintain friendly ties between Daemon and King Callio (and they, to Aegon's some surprise, managed to find a common language), as to remind the entire Kingdom of Pentos, stretching from the Velvet Hills of Andalos to the shores of the Myrth Sea, that neighbors from across the sea are closer and more dangerous than all the praised mercenaries of Essos. Callio himself remembered this and, having tested the length of the leash only a couple of times, allowed himself no more liberties.
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