Chapter Text
The dragon continued to circle the skies above their heads, hiding within the clouds.
Perhaps in order to ignore the fear and anxiety of everything happening around him, Aegon focused on the city itself as they rode through it. The stones paving the streets were sandy and gray in some places, different from the stones of the Eyrie or Runestone. The buildings rose up around them towering above, taller than any other town they had ridden through. Beyond their size, the very number of them was something to be fascinated by. The Royce's entire household, staff included, would fit in the buildings surrounding the market square they'd ridden through with room to spare, yet the city continued on as if unending. There were more buildings here than in any other town he’d seen, even the towns around the Eyrie paled in comparison. Aegon couldn't imagine the number of people that lived here.
They'd ridden right through a bustling square. Merchants hawked their goods. Shoppers milled about. Bars and taverns opened their doors, the sounds of their clientele spilling out. With the many people crowding the street, the Hightower knight urges all of them to follow him, forcing his horse through the throng. Even as they made their way past the square and through more residential areas, the crowds barely thinned.
Very few people look up as they pass. The few that do watch them with a curiosity that fades quickly. Either they’re used to Hightower knights pushing their way through the streets or they’ve seen too many nobles pass by to care about them. Or perhaps they decided that the dragon was of greater importance than a small group of nobles passing by. Aegon wouldn’t fault them for that.
Most of the smallfolk look towards the sky looking for the dragon that circles the city screeching. Dismissed as the lesser threat and ignored, Aegon isn’t sure which makes him feel better and focuses on other things.
Kings Landing smells like shit. Aegon was going to be nice about it, but he isn’t nice. So, he’ll go for truthful, at least to himself. There’s a wind off of the Blackwater which one thinks would help, but they’d be wrong. Rather than help, the wind pushing through the streets seemed to trap the scent, pushing it further up his nose instead of carrying it away.
With the dragons and the smell, he wonders how anyone can live here. Surely there were safer and less odorous places the smallfolk would prefer? Aegon lost himself following that train of thought. Maybe the people had gone nose blind to it? Or they lost their sense of smell? Would he return home unable to smell the crisp morning air of the hills? Worse, would it smell horrible after days here destroyed his senses?
“Aegon.”
Jolted from his thoughts, Aegon turns to find his mother staring at him. The annoyed but still fondly amused look in her eye that he’d normally see in these situations is not there. Her brown eyes hold only caution.
“Keep up,” His mother presses her horse closer to him. Her eyes flicker towards the skies as the dragon above them releases yet another earsplitting shriek. This time followed by a burst of light that colors the clouds above them golden. Aegon whips his head up to stare at the sky but finds only clouds, the dragon hidden behind them once more.
The smallfolk duck into the buildings around them. A once bustling crowd, all of them rushing about their business around their small party, dwindles to a scant few that hurry on their way when the dragon above roars again. Aegon watches them again. Their movements are rushed but not panicked, done without thought as if ingrained into their routine. Clearly, they have some protocol regarding angered and rampaging dragons. Aegon frowns. Their guards encircle his mother and him glaring towards the Hightower knight leading them.
“Yes, Mother.” Aegon sighs when her stare started to feel piercing.
Kings Landing passes quickly after that. The crowds holding them back dispersed makes their journey faster and easier, but it still doesn’t sit right with Aegon. His mother had made it seem as if it wasn’t the dragon responsible for this rampage but the rider. The years of her marriage had given her a better grasp then he on the behaviors of Targaryens and their dragons, but wasn’t this too much? The city was now akin to a ghost town, yet no one seemed to want to calm the dragon and their rider.
What in the Seven Hells could have set off this dragon?
Aegon dares one more glance up towards the sky. Golden flames as bright as the sun arc across the sky. Technically, he knows the dragons currently claimed by this generation of Targaryens, his maester had ensured that knowledge made it into his head at least, but he knew little about them beyond their names. A dragon with golden flames escaped his memory.
The closer they get to the Red Keep, the nicer the buildings become, and the more knights he starts to see. Gold cloaks hanging from the shoulders, the men sweep through the streets. The scant few smallfolk still out jump out of their way. Aegon watches on, still frowning. His mother trails the men with her eyes watching them eye her in turn. He doesn’t fail to notice how her hand drifts toward her bow strapped to her horse’s side.
Another shriek splits the sky once more accompanied by golden flames. The knight leading them urges them to move faster. None in their party complain.
-
When he was a boy, so young he can barely remember but young enough that his mother enjoys telling him, he dreamed of flying.
Each night, his eyes would shut, and he’d be in the sky. Looking down upon endless fields. Staring level with the very peaks of mountains. Following a river from the large bay it fed into all the way back to its origins as a small little creek.
The moment he woke in the morning, he’d rush off to find his mother who dutifully listened to each and every adventure. At one point he’d resolved to find every mountain, river, and field from his dreams and visit them. For what he’s no longer sure for none of them could have existed.
Sometimes his father was there. Or a man his childhood imagination believed was his father. Seated high above the clouds his father and the great red dragon Aegon had heard he rode would fly alongside him. Those dreams had always stayed with him longer, each detail more vivid than usual. A deep longing in his chest that was soothed only when he saw his mother.
As he grew older, the dreams faded away. He’s not sure if he simply no longer remembers them when he wakes or if he’d finally grown too old for such fantasies.
-
Their arrival to the gates of the Red Keep brings about even more guards. These men wear the colors of House Targaryen at least. With their red uniforms, Aegon could almost mistake them for ornate carvings in the red stones of the keep. Massive towers climb towards the sky above them, each covered with iron defenses. The gate before them sits lower than the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, though they are by no means short, but the many guards walking the ramparts leave little question how guarded the keep really was.
Aegon stares up at the keep the Targaryens had built. His mother had described it as an eyesore, and he could see where she was coming from. Runestone wasn't incredibly majestic, but it held a quiet grace built among the stones and hills that rolled towards the sea. Compared to the dark stones of home, the Red Keep was more than garish, but on its own, Aegon thought it awe-inspiring in its own way. Fit for a household like the King's at least.
One guard stepped forward gesturing for their party to halt. His eyes jump from the Hightower seal on the knight’s chest to the standard carried by one of his mother’s knights. The man clenches his hand around the pommel of his sword.
“What business?” The guard asked. Though speaking to the knight, his words address the entire party. His eyes jump from the knight to his mother. She glares down at him. Wearing her bronze chest plate with her very posture demanding respect, his mother looks more suited to war than court as she answers the man’s less than polite question.
“The King has summoned House Royce to court.” Her glare does not soften as she speaks. The Hightower knight jumps in before another word can be said.
“The Hand and Queen Alicent commanded that we not be waylaid. We're earlier than expected.” These words seem to hold some weight as a squire behind the guard quickly shuffles off.
Aegon darts a glance towards his mother hoping she caught the boy's rushed departure just as he did. Even the guard questioning them seems to straighten himself out. Aegon frowns clutching at his reigns. The Hand’s authority outranking the King’s? None of this was looking good for them. She returned his glance with one of her own before schooling her features into a blank mask. Aegon attempted to do the same.
“Open the gates!” The guards jump into action, all of them rushing away from their party. A flurry of movement pushes their party forwards. The gates groan in front of them as the great doors open up to a large courtyard. Curious faces greet them, courtiers all eager to see the new arrivals marked by dragonfire.
“House Royce of Runestone!” Some voice bellows into the courtyard, the sound echoing against the stone. It takes everything in him not to jump at such a sudden shout.
The Hightower knight leads them only a little way into the courtyard before alighting from his horse. The rest of their party is quick to follow him, all more than happy to finish a long journey at last even if that journey led them to this pit of vipers. Aegon twists gently as he gets down relishing in the faint pops of his spine. A stable hand rushes to take his reigns. Aegon hands them off with only a slight bit of trepidation.
Turning away from his horse, he watches his mother get down. Her horse is led off as well by another stable hand. Aegon does not miss how his mother’s bow was quickly retrieved by one of her lady’s maids Wylla. Bundled up among the other bags taken from their horses, the weapon offers a bit of comfort that they are not completely at the mercy of the court now. His mother had warned him nearly every day of the dangers of court, of the smiles that more often than not hid ill-intent. More than once, he'd wished to turn back around just so his mother would stop telling him such things.
“Mother,” Aegon offers her his arm. This too had been discussed though it was a much older ploy. One they used every time they traveled to Lady Jeyne’s court. Image was everything even for those favored by their liege lady. Aegon resisted the urge to check that his hair was still pulled back by turning to his mother. She squeezed his arm in thanks as he took her weight seamlessly.
After her fall and his birth, his mother’s spine had been fractured. For months she had lain in her bed barely able to move. Everything had healed, thankfully, after years of dedicated care and work from their maester, but the injury bothered her still. Usually, it was nothing. Rhea Royce had survived her fall, and none could doubt that. But weeks on the road had not been kind to her, though she would never show it to anyone save him.
To outsiders, it simply looked like a devoted son faithfully escorting his beloved mother, an heir doing his duty even. To them, Aegon deftly ensured that no one could see the wince on his mother’s face when she stepped forward creating some space between them.
“Thank you, darling.” His mother patted his arm. The pair turned as one towards the waiting crowd, watching to see who would make the first move. Only the stablehands moved about caring for their horses. Even the wind seems to have held its breath as the Royces greeted the awaiting court.
Aegon took the time while their horses were led away to take in the gathered court running his eyes over the growing crowd, most of whom seemed to care little about the dragon above them. As if the walls and towers of the Red Keep would stop a dragon if it wanted to hurt them. The gathered courtiers all whispered staring at them with eager eyes. Every detail from the color of his hair to his mother’s stance would no doubt be picked apart by them in moments, shredded to find whatever leverage the details could offer them.
From just a look, it was clear that House Royce was an outsider, a house unused to court.
Their clothes were a blossom of color in the courtyard. Aegon had never considered their house colors to be bright or even cheerful, but faced with the austere court dressed as if they were to attend a funeral, he was beginning to. Much of the court wore dark colors that all seemed to bleed together when they stood next to each other. Even covered in dust from the half day of riding, the Royces were as eye-catching as the golden flames dancing across the sky.
In truth, his mother had coordinated it as such.
Neither he nor his mother donned anything black. Nor did they wear any green as both colors had already been claimed quite publicly. Their clothes were closer to the stones of the keep than either of the factions. Aegon wore red alongside the bronze oranges of the Royces under his chest plate. His mother had discussed it with him ad nauseum on the road. The Hand had called them here for some political maneuver, likely on the Queen's command or with her help, but they did not have to take such obvious manipulation without a fight. At the inn the night before, he'd prepared specifically for this moment. He was the son and heir of Rhea Royce as well as the eldest son of the Rogue Prince, not a pawn for the Queen or the Princess to move about the board. The red of his clothes accentuated his connection to the royal family while simultaneously showing how uninvolved he was with their disputes.
Blood was to be their protection here, but they would use it as sword and shield.
Movement among the gathered courtiers grabbed his attention. The crowd shifted, each noble falling over themselves to get out of the way. A man stepped out, tall and severe looking. His long silver-gold hair lay freely, a look at odds with the rest of the gathered men who wore their hair shorter or at least pulled back. The dark black of his leathers seemed to swallow the light around him. Clothed head to toe in the color, the absence of color only made the silver of his hair more prominent.
But it was not his clothes nor his hair that drew Aegon’s attention. It was the leather eyepatch tied to his pale face. A thin scar ran down his brow towards his cheek, jagged rather than straight. Aegon had heard a few stories about that scar and the eye hidden beneath the leather patch, but he had not been prepared for how young the scar’s owner was. He seemed barely past his majority.
There was only one person capable of commanding the fear and respect of the nobles at court with such a scar. The King's son.
“Lady Rhea,” A cold voice greeted them. “And her heir.”
Aegon and his mother both bowed their heads to greet him. It did not escape either of their attentions that the prince welcoming them had not said Aegon’s name.
“Prince Aemond, thank you for welcoming us.” His mother stepped slightly forward releasing his arm. Her eyes flickered to the sword in the prince’s hand that he had not sheathed during his approach. Clearly, their arrival had interrupted his practice, Aegon hopes it was practice at least, but welcoming guests with steel in hand was not the most comforting of gestures.
“Your arrival has been greatly anticipated.” Prince Aemond said. Though he speaks to his mother, his eye looks only towards Aegon. Pale purple, a touch darker than Aegon’s own, seems to drink him in, an almost desperate and greedy gleam to it. “Though later than expected.”
His mother pursed her lips. Aemond finally turns his eye to acknowledge her. He grins. An almost poisonous attempt at one at least. As quickly as he acknowledged her, he dismissed her again turning his eye back towards Aegon behind her. He shifts as if to walk towards Aegon. He straightens his spine.
“No matter, we have all been eagerly awaiting you.”
Another figure bursts from the gathered crowd. A man shorter than Aemond joins them, prompting the rest of the courtyard to break out in hushed whispers. Windswept curls nearly as dark as Prince Aemond’s leathers are the first feature Aegon can see clearly as the man stops just in front of Aemond. A hand runs through them pushing them away from the man’s eyes.
Golden brown eyes meet his own. Pretty, a distant part of his mind thinks that Aegon quickly shuts down. Almost familiar, another part of his memory butts in, but he hasn’t the time to think on either of those thoughts.
“Lady Rhea! Aegon! Allow me to welcome you to court!” Where one prince names him just an heir, the other names him with familiarity. A wide smile spreads across his lips that clashes terribly with the glare Prince Aemond sends its owner. “My mother was only just informed of your arrival, my apologies. She sent me to greet you.”
The man straightens up, rolling back his shoulders. He folds his hands behind his back and meets their gaze head on. His golden brown eyes lift at the corners, almost happily. His pale blue robes seem to gleam in the dull courtyard.
“I am Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Welcome to Kings Landing.” Prince Jacaerys’ genial smile morphs into something colder, less personal. A courtly mask of sorts. Its clear he’s slipping into a part, some rehearsed role for the nobility watching them. Aegon wonders why he’d allowed them to see his excitement just before.
Aegon and his mother bow their heads to the prince once more. He can feel the eyes of those gathered watching them. The court most likely calculating if this bow was deeper than before. Everyone calculating who the Royces are here for. Clearly the court knows as little as they do about the King's summons. Aegon tucks that away for later discussion with Mother.
“Thank you, Prince Jacaerys.” His mother said. Jacaerys gestures towards the entrance to the castle proper. Aemond almost snarls at the other prince. Jacaerys looks to be trying to ignore him. Aegon lifts a brow watching the almost palpable tension between the two. He knew that tensions between the pair's mothers had been rising for years, but the glare Aemond sends Jacaerys seems almost personal, deeper than a rivalry between their mother's or even anger at being disinherited. But the animosity between the princes is not the only thing he noticed.
Aegon hesitates when his mother steps forward.
Eyes pin themselves to his back once more. Aegon jerks his head up searching the skies. The sound of wings closer than before, louder than before. Fear runs down his spine. No one else seems to sense anything. Both princes are looking at him, but neither seem aware. His breath hitches.
Something’s coming. Something’s here.
“Get down!” He pulls his mother with him to the ground. She grunts. Aegon lifts his head swinging it around wildly trying to find the dragon. The courtyard remains as it was. No one else has moved. All are watching them curiously.
Prince Jacaerys steps closer to them, head tilted.
“Aegon, are you alright?” Jacaerys kneels down. His hand rests gently on Aegon’s shoulder. A familiar move for someone Aegon has never met before. “Please, come inside. You must be tired. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Jacaerys continues to speak, gently coaxing him towards the castle. Mother shifts as though to follow the prince's directions, but Aegon doesn’t listen. His eyes snap towards the sky. The clouds swirl above them. Something is moving them. Not the wind. Something real and tangible. Something big.
“Do you not,” Aegon pulls his gaze back down to meet the prince’s. Wild purple eyes meet brown. “Sense it?”
Jacaerys jerks back startled. Eyes wide, he stares at Aegon.
“There is no reason to fear the dragon above us, Aegon.” Jacaerys smiles, an attempt at comfort that Aegon does not accept. He knows there’s something above them. He knows that it’s getting closer. He knows…
He knows it’s coming towards them. Towards him.
Aegon sucks in a breath that threatens to tear him down the middle. His lungs ache. His heart beats against his chest frantically. He fists one hand into the prince’s fine doublet dragging him to the ground beside his mother.
“Get down!”
The very foundations of the Red Keep seemed to rattle as the dragon landed on the ramparts above them.
Around them the courtyard erupts in screams. Aegon presses closer to his mother. Her fingers press cling to him, holding so hard he knows they’ll bruise. The prince gasps, the sound right in his ear. Aegon shivers feeling the prince’s rapid breathes against his skin as the chaos builds around them.
Aegon lifts his head. A dragon greets him.
Golden scales gleaming in the sunlight, the dragon shifts on the top of the gate settling down upon the iron defenses as though they were even there. Its claws sink into the stone as though they were still clay. The dragon took no note of the disturbance it had caused stretching out its neck trilling. Its head swung about, but it refrained for now from spewing any fire.
“Sunfyre,” Jacaerys whispers to himself. Aegon mouths the word to himself. It is an apt name. The dragon shone as golden as the sun. Had he not been utterly terrified, he would have called the beast the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Aegon,” His mother gasped running her hands over him checking for wounds he knew he did not have. “Are you alright?”
Aegon nodded, yet still he could not tear his gaze away from Sunfyre. The dragon beat its wings buffeting the courtyard with wind. Courtiers continued screaming around them. A few even toppled over under the pressure of the winds. Woman scrambled about, tripping over their skirts. Men ran without a look behind them.
“Aemond, send for the dragonkeepers!” Jacaerys leapt forward swiftly ushering the courtiers from the courtyard. All of them disappear through the castle doors only to be replaced moments later by knights and guards rushing back out. The dragon pays them no mind. Jacaerys helps lift a woman to her feet but doesn't accept the sword one of the guards offer him.
“Don’t tell me what to do nephew!” Aemond snarls but grabs a horse from one of the panicking stable hands. Somehow he manages to mount it smoothly. He’s gone in the blink of an eye, and Aegon hasn’t the faintest idea what he was doing or even where he was going. What were dragonkeepers? What could sending for them possibly do? If teh dragon willed it, they would all be dead in seconds burned by its flames. Who could stop a dragon from doing as it pleased?
The dragon settles. Most of its body lay atop the gate still, but it snaked its head down into the courtyard as though searching for something. It sniffed the air, nostrils flaring, before snapping away from the guards and Jacaerys. Crooning and trilling, the dragon’s head stopped barely a few yards away from where Aegon crouched frozen.
“We need to move.” His mother drags him to his feet forcing him back away from the beast. Her conviction is matched by the dragon’s outrage that Aegon was moving away. It roars. Aegon winced pressing his hands to his ears.
His mother glares at the beast forcing Aegon behind her but not moving a step further. Faintly, Aegon can hear shouting all around them, but with the ringing in his ears from the dragon’s roar, he can’t make out what.
The dragon plops its head down onto the stones sending up a small plume of dirt. It growls at the knights when they try to step closer, snapping at them when they do not heed its warning. Its tail lands just behind Aegon cutting off his mother’s escape route. Deep golden eyes stare at him.
Sunfyre, Aegon thinks to himself. How beautiful. This close Aegon could see that its scales had an almost iridescent gleam to them that flashed in the sun. The dragon presses its head forward wiggling its body down into the courtyard fully. He presses gently at his mother’s desperate hands forcing them away eventually pushing her behind him. He steps forward. Sunfyre trills at him.
“Aegon! Aegon, get back!” His mother pleads with him. Sunfyre’s tail lifts up to block her, pressing her back towards the gathered guards. Her maids rush for her pulling her away from the dragon and her son. Jacaerys shouts something unintelligible.
“Sunfyre.” Aegon said, the word fitting perfectly in his mouth as though he was meant to say it, to know it. The name shocks him. A thrum builds up beneath his skin. Sunfyre presses closer, its head barely a foot away from him. The dragon wiggles happily at receiving Aegon’s full attention. Distantly, he can still hear the faint sounds of his mother and Jacaerys.
"I know you," Aegon whispered, "I know, I know you."
One trembling hand lifted to press against the dragon's golden scales. He purred leaning into the touch placing so much of his weight onto him that Aegon stumbled.
A flash of something from his memory hits him. It wasn't solid, just a feeling of a memory more than anything. Like a dream he’d forgotten. It was old and faded, but it felt just like this.
Warmth.
That's what it was. He remembered on some level, in some memory so old he couldn't place. He remembered this warmth.
“How do I know you?” Aegon pressed his forehead against Sunfyre’s snout. He, and Aegon doesn’t even understand how he now knows Sunfyre was a he, croons, a soft noise that Aegon can almost understand as comforting.
His eyes flutter shut. Sunfyre curled around him. Aegon knocked his head against Sunfyre’s. The dragon puffed hot air at him, nostrils flaring. Aegon laughed. Sunfyre attempted to mimic him.
“I know you.” Aegon stated opening his eyes. “And you know me.”