Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad you continue to enjoy. Just a quick heads up; this takes place around 3 months after the last chapter. This chapter and the next two are going to mix a bit timeline wise, and all of them come from a POV that is not Elia or Harry. After that is a Harry POV that picks up right where this one ends.


Egg grunted, quickly dodging left as he felt Viserys' blade whistle through the air to clang against his shield.

Not bloody fair, he thought, seeing the glint of humour in Viserys' eyes. His uncle was enjoying himself far more than Egg was, almost glowing as he parried the blow.

"Faster, Egg," he taunted, "do show your prowess, nephew. The kingdoms won't tolerate a non-martial king."

Egg scowled, scrambling backwards before he dropped into a duelling stance. Egg had learned the hard way that when Vis was given a sword, the older prince was far more deadly than he expected for someone quite thoroughly wrapped around his sister's pinkie.

Viserys' softer side was reserved for family, Daenerys and Maia – and now Lewyn – able to coax a side of him that Egg knew was rarely seen. Caelyx had pulled forth the same excitement he and Rhae had shown when they had bonded with their dragons, but Viserys' lightness was tempered with a heavy burden.

His father had a knowing look in his eyes whenever he found time to see Viserys in the sparring yard, only telling Aegon that Vis was a kindred spirit.

A sharp sting to his thigh was followed by a jarring hit to his arm as their shields clashed, Viserys pushing him back before he threw his shield aside.

Egg dropped his in turn, lips pressed in a firm line as he warily watched Viserys.

Duelling with magic was not quite the same; Egg was fast with a wand in hand, the magic simply an extension of him, and Master Fenton had thought to make Aegon just as quick with a sword in hand.

Pity for him that the world he now lived in was quite different from the one he came from. Viserys was quick with his blade – almost as quick as Ser Arthur – and Egg knew the two men had fought in battle, each warning him that it was not the same as a spar. These men had lived with their swords, spending much time learning the many ways they could kill a man with it.

Viserys shifted quickly, blade arcing high as Egg raised his sword to meet it, the scratch of metal ringing through the air as he slid his blade across Viserys'. A whack to his lower rib was countered with a hit to Viserys' elbow, the scowl on his face letting him know he felt it through his gambeson.

The spar was over in a few minutes, Viserys' blade pointed at his neck while Egg's was held to the soft flesh of his armpit.

"You've gotten better," Viserys told him, taking the blunted blade to the rack.

"I've spent the last six months training," Egg deflected.

"Not all the time. You're a quick learner, which is good," Viserys replied. "Aegon, you must learn to take praise with grace."

"I can handle praise," Egg grumbled, accepting the waterskin.

They were alone in the sparring yard; his siblings were off in the godswood, putting the final touches on the pseudo-armour for the dragons. Auriga and Iacomus' scales had hardened considerably, but Teddy was nothing if not considerate – paranoid, really – of the dragons, and so they had a set of mail made for them, the chain covering the soft flesh of their limbs.

"You're too humble," Viserys retorted. "What kind of king is so humble he would tell me I was being too kind simply for handing him a washcloth?"

Egg flushed, scowling lightly at the taunting grin on Viserys' face. His uncle had told him time and again he was ill named, for whom else deserved the name Baelor.

"If I have a son, I'm naming him Baelor just to spite you," Egg told him.

"I knew you cared nephew, but that you would name a son after me?"

Egg rolled his eyes, laughing at the good humour on Viserys' face. They would leave for war tomorrow, and Aegon had worried the thought of battle would drag him into a dark mood. He was glad to have been proven wrong, but a part of him was curious enough to ask.

"Are you not nervous?"

"This isn't the first time I've fought," Viserys pointed out.

"This is different," Egg said.

"Is it? Perhaps for you," Viserys said, a faraway look in his eyes. "I've known war far longer than I have peace. This is the first step to putting that in the past."

"Will it?" Egg asked. Lilac eyes turned to him in question, the words spilling forth. "We take the throne and deal with the grievances of the lords of the realm. Then what? They've spent years warring with each other. Half the lords we are allied with would like to see others dead for following the orders of their liege. The North is not like to take well to our return, nor will those whose sons died at the hands of the Ma—"

He broke off, turning away from Viserys as his face flushed slightly.

"The Mad King? You can say it – Seven knows my mother did not shy away from doing the same," Viserys told him, an almost amused tone in his voice.

Egg blinked, staring at his uncle incredulously. Viserys' relationship to his father's past was such an odd thing; his uncle was equal parts bitter at the legacy he had inherited and morbidly amused at how others stuttered and shied away from calling his father by his more well-known epithet.

"What ha—"

"Lady Cassiopeia has taken great pleasure in telling me the sordid history of your father's Black ancestors. They make us seem almost normal in comparison," Viserys said.

"Targaryens have killed each other," Egg said flatly.

"We used dragons and assassins. I don't think any of us has properly wielded the weapon used to do the deed."

Egg floundered in an attempt to come up with any possible alternative, knowing the less said about some of his father's Peverell relations the better. "Bloodraven," Egg countered, remembering the story of the albino sorcerer. "He killed his brother and nephews, one of them unarmed and under parley."

"I suppose that does count," Viserys acknowledged. "Though he was less selfish in his reasoning. Oh, don't look at me like that."

"You said the man being a kinslayer was less selfish," Egg said pointedly, disbelief in his face. "A kinslayer is accursed in the eyes of the gods and men."

"Been reading the Seven Pointed Star, have you?" Viserys huffed. "None more accursed than the kinslayer. Lord Bloodraven saved the realm years of war and bloodshed."

"At the cost of his honour and the honour of his king," Egg said. "The wars weren't ended. He merely delayed them."

"Honour is all well and good Aegon, but it won't save you when you have rebellion brewing," Viserys said firmly. "You are going to be king, nephew, and that means you must learn when to be generous and when you must remain firm. Indecision will kill you quicker than this war."

Carrot and stick, he thought, grimacing as he imagined how it would look.

"Mother have mercy, but you've quite thoroughly ruined yourself," Viserys said. "I'm telling your mother."

"Telling my mother? We're not children, Uncle. Besides, what is there to tell my mother?" Egg asked incredulously.

"That you have rather stupidly decided to compare yourself to the men who sired us," Viserys snapped, jumping to his feet as he began pacing. "Gods be good, Aegon, you are not your sire or mine, nor should you aspire to be so entirely dissimilar from them that you forget who you are and let indecision rule you."

"Your father burned people for the sake of it," Egg said. "I should think it's a good thing to be very dissimilar to him."

"Aye, he did, and the kindest thing that could have been done was to let him die in Duskendale," Viserys replied. "Or Rhaegar should have killed him when he had the chance."

"You would rather your brother be a kinslayer?" Egg asked, startled at Viserys' words.

"Better a kinslayer than what he became," Viserys spat. "Have you learned nothing of politics in that world of yours? I know the magicals are just as ruthless in the preservation of family. What would your father have done if his aunt lived?"

It took Egg a moment to remember which aunt Viserys spoke of before he grimaced. He would have killed her, he knew. Had Bellatrix LeStrange managed to live and escape justice, his father would have taken care of her himself.

"I don't think we should take the wizarding model," Egg cautioned, ignoring the look Viserys shot him. "My father was never friendly with his aunt."

"So? If you spewed fire and blood for no reason beyond your wants to harm your loyal subjects, what would your family do?"

He didn't want to know the answer to that question, though Egg could very well guess what the response was.

"Rhaenys would kill you herself, even if she loves you," Viserys told him. "As would your father and brother."

"But not my mother?" Egg questioned.

Viserys had a dark look in his eyes, shifting to face Egg with arms folded across his chest. "Elia would never suffer to see her son turn into another Aerys, nephew."

Only if Viserys didn't get to him first, he guessed. A part of Aegon wondered at the relationship his uncle and grandmother must have had for the man to be so sure he would have welcomed the thought of his older brother killing their father.

"Are you quite finished threatening me?"

"Are you quite finished being a fool, Your Grace?" Viserys asked sardonically.

Egg scowled, muttering foul things about his uncle. "I do believe I asked you about battle nerves, not for a treatise on how to deal with mad relations."

"I am a versatile prince," Viserys replied easily, sketching an exaggerated bow.

"I'm sure Great-Uncle Owen can make use of your skills," Egg said dryly.

Viserys grimaced, no doubt remembering the horror that was his mother's devised punishment. For all that Egg had sat through Owen's storytelling in his childhood, Viserys had never experienced something like that.

"Owen Potter is a blight on the world and your father should have left him behind," Viserys muttered, pulling a laugh from Aegon.

He watched carefully as Viserys returned to sit next to him, lips pursed as he considered something.

"You do yourself and the realm a disservice if you work hard to emulate the past, Aegon," Viserys said quietly, lilac eyes soft with some unknown emotion. "You are not a Targaryen prince raised in the Red Keep and taught it was his right to rule and damn the consequences. Nor do I believe your mother would ever have allowed that for you."

"You weren't raised in the Red Keep," Egg said softly.

"Not for some time," Viserys agreed. "Yet I was born there, and all of my earliest memories have been tainted by the realization of what truly occurred in my childhood. We have four dragons now, and that puts untold power in your hands. You have some queer ideas of kingship, I'll grant, but it is you who will sit the throne – not Rhaegar or my father. Don't let their ghosts dictate your rule. What kind of king do you wish to be?"

A good one, he thought, knowing that was not enough of an answer. He glanced at his uncle from the corner of his eye; Viserys had shown a side to him Aegon had never seen before, a part of him that had been shaped during his exile in Essos and in the final years of his mother's life, when the realities of his family were laid bare before him.

"You can't be taught to handle battle," Viserys said after a moment, breaking the heavy silence that had engulfed them.

"My father said the same thing," Egg frowned. "He said whatever advice he gave me would fly out my ear in the midst of battle."

"Your father's right. If you'll remember one piece of advice, remember not to spew in front of your men. You're meant to look kingly and put together, not like a green boy handling his first taste of war."


At the sound of his door clicking open, Egg groaned as he scrambled to pull the covers to his chest.

"It's not like we've not seen you stark naked Egg," Teddy teased, features shifting into that familiar mix of their parents. It was startling how much Teddy now resembled what he thought Lewyn would grow to look like.

"I was three," Egg huffed, scowling at the amused smile his brother wore.

Teddy plopped onto the bed, Rhaenys sitting next to him so that they both faced Aegon, throwing a shirt at him.

"Is this the part where you both ask me about my feelings?"

"Yes, do tell brother dearest," Rhaenys drawled. "How fares our gracious king?"

"Nervous," he admitted after a time, knowing they would understand.

"Try not to chuck your food out in front of all the men," Teddy told him, dark eyes crinkled in amusement. "Hard to keep morale high when your king is vomiting all over his armour."

"Have you been speaking to Viserys?" Egg questioned.

Teddy had an odd look on his face as he shrugged; his brother and uncle had a sense of camaraderie between them that Egg could hardly understand and guessed it had much to do with their roles as elder brother.

He was glad they had not butted heads on that score, fearing it would have turned ugly had they done so.

"If you think too hard you will puke your guts out," Rhaenys warned him.

"What do you know about war?" Egg retorted.

"A touch more than you, I'd imagine," she said dryly, turning her attention to the cards in her hand.

Egg swallowed his words and turned instead to Teddy. Rhaenys would fling him out of a tower if he showed any pity, the look on Teddy's face telling him he would handle it.

As difficult as this would be for him, Egg couldn't imagine how his sister would take returning to the Red Keep, worried that her nightmares would return to haunt her.

He shut those thoughts away, letting the familiar feeling of a round of exploding snap soothe him as he laughed with his brother and sister, crowing in joy at the sight of Teddy's singed eyebrows.


The men should be close to Storm's End by now, he guessed.

Egg could hear the crunch of footsteps on the godswood floor, his hand on Caelyx's snout. Lord Tarly's raven had arrived a month after they left, the raven from Blackmont and Wyl arriving earlier. Dorne was guarding its border, and with Lord Tarly marching to answer Highgarden's call, Aegon was to secure Storm's End.

"You'll keep watch, won't you?" he asked the dragon. They had grown large quicker than expected, Caelyx standing tall over Egg. His father thought the magic of Bloodstone was helping them grow – creatures of fire and magic as they were – and Egg knew that until they had settled everything, Caelyx and Stormbringer would remain in Bloodstone to grow in safety.

Maybe they'll grow large enough to ride by then, he thought.

Caelyx gave a rumble in response, butting Egg in the chest roughly. Viserys' dragon had finally learned to get along with them all, but Caelyx was still excitable at times and the dragons hatched from Caraxes' eggs were more wary of outsiders than their own.

He gave a final pat to Caelyx before he turned to face his mother.

"I'll be careful," Egg promised, moving forward to wrap his arms around her. He was taller than her now, his growth spurt adding a few inches to him so that Egg was not staring her in the eyes anymore.

"Don't try and be a hero, Aegon," she murmured, pulling back to grab hold of his chin. Her dark eyes looked serious, and Egg sobered at her words.

The hero doesn't save everyone, his father had once told him, a mournful look in his eyes.

Harry Potter had paid a personal price for that, something Aegon was unwilling to test.

"I won't," he said, placing a short kiss on her cheek.

His mother smoothed her hands across the pauldron, her fingers curling in the cloak tied to him. She had sewn it herself for the three of them, the red three-headed dragon stitched with care in the short time she had for herself. Egg didn't ask, feeling the magic in the fabric and knowing his mother had likely learned and threaded a few protective runes in it, but he was thankful for her foresight and ability to see past the image he made.

"Go," she said, nudging her head at where Rhaenys waited. "I've already said my goodbyes to your sister. You have a schedule to keep to."

Egg grinned, "I'd not like to see Lord Randyll's face if we ruin his plans."

He ran forward, glad the armour was light enough that Egg wasn't hampered by it. It took him some time to climb on Iacomus' back, using the small links of protective mail as a stepping-stone. He nodded at Rhaenys, seeing Auriga stand taller as she prepared to take flight.

Egg looked down at the godswood, taking one last look at his mother stood surrounded by Caelyx and Stormbringer, her orange and red gown mixing with Viserys' dragon. He would not see her in months – not until they had taken control of King's Landing and the surrounding lands – and he committed this image of her to mind.

Fly, Iacomus, he thought, his dragon responding to his wordless command.

Iacomus' joy at taking flight was tempered by Aegon's awareness of what it was they were moving to do. They climbed high, chasing after Rhaenys and Auriga as they used the clouds to cover their movements, the two dragons moving swiftly.

The stormlands was aptly named, large storm clouds covering their presence, and Iacomus dipped down below after two hours to see the colossal drum tower sticking up like a fist, small shapes scrambling forward as they moved with pinpricks of flame. The sea crashed against the walls and the cliffside, battering the stone furiously. Storm's End had a curved curtain wall, thick and smooth with no room for the wrath of the gods to penetrate, and Egg could see why it was such a difficult castle to take.

He looked back to see Rhaenys land Auriga on the drum tower, the dragon roaring her anger as her tail swished furiously through the air, a tingle of magic pulsing in the air.

Fire, he ordered, the grey Ironbelly unleashing a torrent of flame at the wall. Egg could hear the screams as men jumped into the bay, their only escape from the castle walls a watery grave to avoid the flame licking at their skin.

Iacomus turned at his direction, chasing after Auriga as she took flight once more, a monstrous roar leaving him as he swooped low. There were far more men encamped outside the walls than Egg had expected, more than the letter from Ser Richard had warned them of, scrambling for arms at the sight of hundreds of men closing in on their camp. Surprised shouts rang through the air as a group broke off, darting toward the castle gates. Egg couldn't make out their exact arms, knowing only that Ser Richard had placed his men closest to the castle. A lick of flame left Iacomus, several of the tents catching fire as the camp fell into disarray at the threat from two dragons.

He heard the shouts as the Dornishmen under Uncle Oberyn's command moved forward swiftly, the sight of two dragons and a small army forcing the Stormlords to drop their arms. Iacomus flew lower, only the tight hold Egg had on the bond keeping the dragon from accidentally shooting flame at the tents again, the Ironbelly banking left in a sharp turn as the Dornish overran the camp. Egg could see banners aflame as he flew closer to the castle, the moving figures of a contingent of Dornishmen led by a knight in white catching up to the Lonmouth men, a screech from his left telling him where Rhaenys was.

"Dragon!"

"Move, move! Loose you bastards!"

Iacomus' flames silenced the knight on the wall before he aimed at the gate. Steel hinges began to melt as the wood creaked, and Egg wordlessly commanded Iacomus, feeling him shift as his spiked tail sprang forward, the gate blowing open.

He took flight once more, the screams covered by the shrieks of two dragons. Egg had hoped it would be easier than this, and he was glad the sight of two creatures of myth blocking the moonlight was enough to force them to their knees.

Auriga and Iacomus screeched in victory, the feeling of bloodlust echoing down the bond as he took a lap across the field, the nightfires illuminating the camp.

This is war, he thought, seeing the men on the floor, arrows sticking out of their bodies while others were still covered in flame. This is what you've done, Aegon.

He felt his stomach churning, Iacomus screeching as he felt Egg's emotions, the dragon swooping low several times as he moved to land before the gates.

Egg saw a small group of guards come closer, waiting for him to disembark as they kept their spears pointed at any interlopers. The bloodlust was abating, Aegon's heart racing as he heard the pitiful moans from the camp and the clang of swords. He gave Iacomus a soft pat, clambering off his back.

He did not recognize the men surrounding him, knowing only that they were Martell men-at-arms. The gate was destroyed, smoke curling into the air as a man in white made his way to them, stepping past Egg's honour guard.

"Your Grace," Ser Oswell said, sidling into place next to him, his white cloak stained with blood and mud.

"How many died?" Egg asked quietly.

"A handful of our men, though for the most part they are injured instead of dead. Lord Potter-Black is inside tending to them as we speak."

Aegon nodded, straightening his cloak before he made his way inside. Compared to his men, Egg's armour was pristine, the only speck of dirt coming from the mud on his feet.

The castle courtyard was mostly filled with Dornishman, swords or spears in hand as they took control of the household guard, Iacomus' presence outside helping them corral the men from the camps. The injured were put on stretchers and moved closer to the tower where Aegon could vaguely make out his father barking orders, his hand moving swiftly as he no doubt attempted to heal what he could.

"My brother and sister? My uncles?" Egg could see the wary looks on the faces of Stannis' men, mistrust and fear writ plain in their expressions as they undoubtedly saw some of their own turn cloak.

"Lord Edward is with Prince Oberyn, securing the keep. Princess Rhaenys has taken Prince Viserys and several men to secure Lord Stannis."

Ser Arthur is with them, he knew. Egg had been explicit in his orders, not giving anyone room to manoeuver their own interests, and he knew the knight would follow his words to the letter.

Egg half expected to see Stannis Baratheon's likeness walking around, ordering his men to put down their swords – something he was certain would have crossed Teddy's mind.

"Very well, Ser. Lead me to them," Egg said.

He had thought the pulse of magic had been his father, but the strong feel of magic was coming from the walls of the keep, his own stirring in response as he was led deeper into the drum tower.

Storm's End is surrounded by wards, Egg thought with certainty. He wouldn't know what kind until he had spoken to his father or siblings, but Egg knew magic and he knew when it surrounded him.

He was led to a solar, an older maester with several large links around his neck glancing warily at them as they entered, eyes widening at the sight of Aegon in his armour. Egg blinked at the sight of Rhaenys calmly rifling through a number of scrolls while quietly asking the maester several questions. He was relieved to see her unharmed, her armour stained with dirt and a few specks of blood, and Egg wondered at how quickly she had managed to take Stannis.

"Your Grace," Ser Richard said, a dark look in his blue-grey eyes. Whenever the maester glanced at the Stormlord, a flash of anger passed through his eyes at the realization that House Lonmouth had turned on their liege and abandoned their fellows to force them to bend the knee.

"Where is Viserys, Ser?" Egg asked.

"With Ser Arthur," he answered. "Stannis has proven…difficult to contain."

Good, he thought, turning to make his way closer to Rhaenys. Stannis Baratheon would not come to any harm if he surrendered, but if he refused to cooperate Ser Arthur was the best choice at keeping the man alive and unharmed.

His sister saw the look on his face, easily guessing his thoughts. "They dropped their arms as soon as they saw Auriga up close."

"Stannis?"

"Put up a fight, that one, but Ser Arthur is the Sword of the Morning for a reason," Rhaenys told him.

"If you would give me leave to tend to his injuries, my lord," the maester interjected.

"Maester…" Egg trailed off, unsure of his name.

"Cressen, my lord."

"Your Grace," Oswell corrected from behind him. "You are speaking to Aegon, Sixth of His Name."

"Seven pardons, Your Grace," Cressen replied, bushy grey brows furrowed in unease.

"Lord Stannis will remain as is," Egg told him.

If Stannis were truly injured, Egg's father would see to keeping the man alive. He wouldn't risk the maester doing otherwise.

"Stannis was set to march south," Rhaenys said, handing a scroll to Aegon. "Lord Wyl has done as expected but it looks like the stags were easily spooked."

Egg unfurled the scroll, eyes flashing as he attempted to contain his surprise.

Fighting in the riverlands and the northern crownlands. Lord Tywin's army has mustered, as has the North. Lord Monford worked quickly, Egg would grant him that, sure that this was the work of the Dragon's Men.

"Ser Richard," Aegon said, glancing at the silently observing maester.

"Your Grace?"

"Bring Lady Shireen here," Aegon told him. Indigo eyes watched the knight carefully as he nodded, leaving swiftly to do as commanded.

Egg's mother had promised that no harm would come to the younger girl, a promise he meant to keep.

The maester made a small noise of protest, quieting at the sight of Oswell's glare.

"How long ago did this raven come?"

"A week, if the maester is to be believed," Rhaenys said, leaning against the hard desk.

A week, he thought. A hard march could take an army further north in that time, Egg knew. They couldn't have Robert Baratheon turn north; his war would crumble in its infancy if the man were buoyed by support from his former allies.

No. Egg would have to do something to keep his attention south.

"I need several scrolls and ink, Maester Cressen," Egg said.

Perhaps a letter would keep Robert Baratheon's attention where he wanted it.


No Harry and a short Elia appearance in this chapter, but Viserys and Egg's convo kind of took centre stage. The meeting with Stannis will take place in the next Harry POV, which is in 2 chapters, and we'll see the first real battle in that chapter.

To answer any questions/comments:

eragon95159: we'll see what options they give Stannis in 2 chapters.

Flamingp0tat0: that's his plan, using magic and trickery to have the city fall. The Faith can go two ways, depending on how the city is handled and how Aegon presents himself. Either they're the devil using foul magic, or they've been 'blessed' by the Seven. Jon is with Ned, and Ned's understanding of what happened with his sister is incomplete. Jon's place of birth is different, as is the entire fight between Ned and Ser Gerold. Ned might not be pro crowning Jon, but there are always ambitious lords in Westeros looking for any avenue to power. Euron's still around, though he hasn't presented himself as a threat yet. We've got two other POVs next before we return to Harry. Less 3-way assault but it does happen in stages; Stannis and Storm's End is first followed by Robert with Dorne and the Reach, King's Landing after they secure that, and then they'll turn to deal with Tywin.

red demon161: it's cool. Most reviews I look at from three angles; either they've mentioned something I had planned, they mention something I thought of and discarded for various reasons, or they touch on something I might not have considered and then have to think on whether it works for the story or not. The Stepstones was one of them, where I had a clear plan to use it, but there was another option I hadn't considered that could help deal with the Essosi.

osterreicher97: Robert's in a bit better shape than canon, as we'll see next chapter, but yeah, taking his ancestral home is a blow. Robb lost the North and was a laughingstock in Westeros, Robert would lose his home and a strong commander in his brother.

Up next; King's Landing in 296 is an odd place to be a hostage as the first stirrings of war are felt.