Disclaimer – If you recognise it then it belongs to GRRM

Chapter 1

Mother was crying again. Aegor was used to this sight over the past few years and the empty bottles that lay barren by her chair told him she was probably drunk. It was his seventh nameday yet she hadn't paid him any attention or even given him a present. His uncle, Lord Bracken, had given Aegor a fantastic imitation sword and the castle maester had given him a book on the Targaryen conquest of Westeros but nothing from his mother.

She didn't seem to smile anymore, not since his father had stopped visiting. She had told Aegor that he was born in the Red Keep in Kings Landing, the capital of Westeros, which was where they lived for the first year of his life. She never told him why they now lived at Stone Hedge with his uncle. She also never told him why his father stopped visiting. He remembered his father's booming voice, the shiny golden crown he always wore and how he used to pick up Aegor in his big arms and make him laugh. But he had not seen his father in 3 years and, whilst he missed him a little, his mother seemed devastated by his continued absence. Now she just drank and muttered words like "disgrace", "bastard" and "whore".

Aegor had asked the maester questions about his father and why he left him and his mother but never received any answers. However he knew it was something to do with the ghost boy.

He had only seen him once, when his uncle and mother took him to Kings Landing to attend the funeral of the Aemon the Dragonknight, the Legendary Kingsguard. He had been excited to go to the capital. He hopes he might see his father but he didn't. He thought he saw him sat on a large iron chair but soon realised that he was too fat to be his father, even if he wore a crown just like him.

Whilst at the funeral he caught his mother glaring menacing at a dark haired woman wearing a long gown that had what looked like a flock of ravens surrounding a tree embroidered on the back. He had never seen his mother filled with such hate.

However it was boy that this women held hands with that took Aegor's attention. He was smaller than him and looked younger but he was unlike anyone Aegor had ever seen before. His skin was pale as milk, he had long hair whiter than snow and a strange red patch on his cheek. He looked like one of the spectres the maester told him about in his bedtime stories when Aegor demanded a scary story. Aegor hoped he would be allowed to play with the other children after the funeral and that the ghost boy would be there so he could talk to him.

As if he knew Aegor was looking at him, the boy suddenly turned and looked directly at him. Aegor gripped his mother's skirt tightly as he saw the bright red eyes of the ghost boy. They were the colour of blood. They appeared to be looking through him, directly into his soul. Aegor was a brave boy and he would be a brave warrior when he grew up, his Uncle told him, but he was scared of the ghost boy. He didn't want to play with him or talk to him anymore, he just wanted him to go away and never come back.

Later when he rode in the litter with his mother back to Stone Hedge he asked about the ghost boy. His mother, very drunk by this point, had rambled about the boy and his "whore mother" being the reason why Aegor's father never visited anymore.

Aegor decided then he didn't like the ghost boy. He didn't want to duel and kill him though, he just never wanted to see him again.

Aegor paced the corridor outside the Kings bedchambers. He was surrounded by the kingsguard, gold cloaks and the kings children, both natural and bastard. The king had summoned all his royal children as he lay on his deathbed. It would not be long now and then the weakling Daeron would inherit the throne. Aegor looked at him, sat there with his head in a book, and shook his head. He was a weakling who spent his time consorting with maesters, prissy library dwellers and the Dornish cowards his wife brought to court. The true king was Daemon and Aegor turned to face him.

He was sat opposite Daeron and he held Blackfyre in his hands, twirling it skilfully in his strong hands. The king knew who the true heir was and he gave Daemon the sword of kings to signify that. He was the most skilled warrior in all the known world, but he was also intelligent, noble and beloved by all. Even his half sister Daenerys stared at him lovingly now, ignoring her true blood brother Daeron as if he was not here. Not that Daeron would know what to do with a woman. Aegor doubted if Daeron had ever fully pleasured his Dornish wife. After all their eldest son Baelor had the look of a Dornishman and the court was full of them, it would be easy for her to take a lover with Daeron spending every night with his head in parchment.

Sat further down the corridor was Shiera Shestar, his half sister and another of the Kings royal bastards. Everytime he saw her she took his breath away. He could think of no other woman in the seven kingdoms more beautiful and he desired her more than anything. She was courteous and flirted with him but she did with everyone and it drove him wild with jealousy. He hoped that if Daemon ever took the throne he would arrange the marriage between them. Daemon knew Aegor's feelings towards her, he doubted that Daeron even knew she was a woman.

At the far end of the corridor, leaning on the wall was Bloodraven. The ghost boy from his youth, his half brother, didn't scare him anymore. His name was Brynden but he encouraged people to use Bloodraven. Aegor always used Bloodraven, if he used anything else then it would let him think that he intimidated Aegor and he certainly didn't. There was tales whispered by the lowborn in Kings Landing of Bloodraven being a sorcerer and practicing blood magic and the dark arts. This was all nonsense, again spread by Bloodraven to increase fear of him.

Aegor knew the truth. Bloodraven was a mortal man - intelligent and skilled with a blade and bow yes - but a man. Aegor felt confident he could kill Bloodraven in combat, he was no Daemon. Bloodraven was better with a bow, Aegor was better with a blade.

Aegor didn't fear him, nor was intimidated by him yet Bloodraven still bothered him and played on his mind. He couldn't put his finger on it for a long time but eventually he knew what it was.

Bloodraven never spoke to Aegor. Not that he was a loud character but he never said a single word to Aegor for as long as he could remember. He just stared with those deep red eyes, like he was daring Aegor to challenge him. Bloodraven was mocking him without saying a word, trying to provoke him into rash actions.

Even now, as they waited for their father to die, he stared at Aegor through those dead red eyes. He neither smiled nor frowned, his face was emotionless but his gaze didn't falter. His eyes were fixed on Aegor. Part of Aegor wanted to run over to Bloodraven and demand he speak, just to see if he would and what he would say. "But that would be letting him win." Aegor thought, so he continued to return his stare.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door to the Kings chambers opening and the Hand of the King, Lord Butterwell, exiting. He looked solemn but spoke clearly "The king is dead. His last proclamation affects the line of succession and concerns all of his royal children...