A/N: Hello, and welcome to one of my first two pieces — and attempts — at entering the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire fandom. I greatly enjoy this universe, the characters therein and the community I've been able to witness thus far and hope that this work as well as the Fic that I'll be writing may contribute even a small bit to the happiness of the aforementioned community.

Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and information, link on my profile. Without any more preamble from me, I hope you enjoy the story!

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE KIND REVIEWS. We now get so many that it's impossible to respond to all of them, but each and every one of you taking the time to speak your support mean the world to me. Please, by all means, speak with me in Discord!


Aegon I

"The Bastard Prince"


Aegon woke to birdsong and the scent of stale air. His room was heavy with the scent of sweat the likes of which a good day's effort in the practice yard would conjure up, only it hadn't been due to such typical exercise. He had been betrothed, finally, and whilst he had known it was coming for years, he had hoped his mother could talk his father out of it.

There was no such luck. There seldom was, in his experience, for his father, the king, was as mad as any of their family had historically been. Some would say that Rhaegar wasn't evil, and Aegon would agree that his father was many things, but none of those traits was evil. He was a recipient of the fated dragon dreams, or so he would claim. Aegon cared not for what his father claimed to see in his night terrors, for there was no undoing what had been done since the Crown Prince could remember; prophecy.

Rhaegar claimed to know of a prophecy that could see the realm overcome with dead men and greater darkness from the far North, where Aegon's mother's family was deeply rooted. The Starks of Winterfell were the most extraordinary people he had come to know and whenever they visited King's Landing, it made the smell of shite and peasantry bearable. Gods, did Aegon hate King's Landing, but most of all, the accursed fate that would soon manifest itself by way of a dual marriage with his older sisters.

Rhaenys, the unbearable and Visenya, the overbearing.

He huffed at the thought of being married to either of his two sisters and it disgusted him, truly, it did. His mother, Lyanna, had spoken with him far more often than the Maester or his father had, and in that time, he was shown the error of House Targaryen's ways whilst the same couldn't be said of his kin.

Daenerys and Viserys thought of incest as normal despite the fact that they were to marry others from lesser houses for the sake of alliances. Rhaenys and Visenya, his two half-sisters from Elia, were the two most heavily poisoned by Rhaegar's words and the lack of Elia stopping them. Lesson after lesson, the same as him, his elder sisters would hear from their father how necessary it was for the trio to marry as their namesakes had.

'Three heads and the realm shall know peace, stability and safety,' Rhaegar would stress that time and time again. It was 'vital' that they marry, procreate and learn all that they could and more about the history of their family, and dragons… it was a cruel jest when one realised that dragons hadn't existed in Westeros in many, many years.

Aegon finally ripped away the sheets from his person and a new wave of stale, stench-ridden sweat wafted up and into his nose. The stress had gotten to him on the previous night, and in doing so, he had lost all hope of a restful night's sleep; sweating and tossing in his sheets, drinking wine and summoning food from the servants to quench the unending hunger deep in his belly.

He had failed to control his mind, and today, he would pay for it. The scent had already seen to that.

Aegon rolled his shoulders as he moved with haste to the windows, pulling open the shutters and removing the curtains from their closed positions so that the fresh, salt-heavy air could overcome the current smell of his quarters. In doing so, the birdsongs grew louder, his room grew immediately colder and the aforementioned stenches from the smallfolk below greeted him. The scents were decidedly better than that of his own alcohol-induced stink.

"Prince Aegon," Called Ser Oswell Whent after a loud knock upon his door. "Your sisters require your presence, they wish to break their fasts with you."

Aegon shook his head at the mention of Rhaenys and Visenya. Far too often did his elder sisters bother him or call upon him as if he were a plaything to their whims. It was tiresome, and frankly, after the announcement of their betrothal on his nameday, it felt as if it were gloating. The two knew his thoughts on the matter and they didn't care even if Visenya seemed to say that she did.

"My thanks for the notice, Ser, but if you could, please relay to my dear sisters that I've plans for the morning and well into the afternoon. There is much and more for me to see to before our marriage goes through," Aegon called back. He loathed to sacrifice Ser Whent to the presence of the Princesses, but he was certain that Lyanna, Daenerys or Viserys would handle the situation should one arise.

"I cannot, my Prince," Ser Whent called back. "Queen Elia thought that you might decline, and as such, should you do so, gave word that she requires it — Queen Lyanna was indisposed."

His eyes closed. Aegon wanted to feel cross, but rather than such feelings taking root, there was nought but resignation and exhaustion. He appreciated how Ser Whent had attempted to seek out his mother for him even if he shouldn't have explicitly done so, but this time, she couldn't see him freed from the clutches of his older sisters. His future Queens.

Gods did he wish the faith would threaten a rebellion so that the marriage was forced to stop, but that wasn't to be. Rhaegar had seen the Exceptionalists restored and strengthened, and the doctrine of plural marriage in addition to the monstrous, incestuous ways of House Targaryen, was once more 'approved' of by the High Septon himself.

It was, quite simply, unfathomable. Even his mother was cross years and years ago when the latter part was recognised once more. As for the former, there was little she could say by way of being his father's second Queen. There was much trouble as it was, and the path that she had taken had caused far more than he would ever come to know, or so she frequently said.

"Prince Aegon?" Ser Whent called out.

The boy of six and ten years was roused from his idle thoughts. "Have word sent to my sweet sisters that their Prince shall do as he was ordered to do, Ser. I'll be but a quarter of an hour. I do so hope they can wait such a long time without fretting."

"As you command, Prince Aegon," Ser Whent responded, his voice muffled and quieter as he ordered about a nearby servant or fellow Guard.

Guard, yes, that's right. Today was the day that Aegon was meant to sup with a Guardsmen, as his Uncles Benjen and Eddard had taught him. Each — and his mother included — had stressed the importance of getting to know those that followed you, and beyond that, the importance of the smallfolk that supported you. He was never to take for granted their loyalty or their aid, and as such, he made sure to dine every other night with a member of his family's household guard. There was twenty-five score of the men, and even at the rate that he ate with them, some would not dine at his table for a long time yet. Still, tonight was to be an Officer, Eric Longwater's turn.

Aegon vowed that he wouldn't let the man down as he quickly washed himself down with a rag and the stale water left over from the previous night. As the scent of his sweat and the stink therein was washed away to be replaced with a fancy scent the likes of which Elia, his second mother, had bought for him, he found himself immediately more presentable. Quickly, he donned silken clothes the colours of his house and the likes of which he despised for their exaggerated softness, and finally, he found himself ready. There was no cause for jewellery or the like, and so he would not suffer it. The only medal he preferred to carry was that of his sword and the dagger with which he hid down his left pant leg. It had never come in handy, he hoped that it never would.

Dressed, clean-smelling and satisfied with himself, he made toward the large, heavy door of his quarters as a sudden gust of wind sent his already wild hair worse off. He hated being sheared almost as much as he hated having to wash his curly, dark hair. Rhaenys and he were the only two that lacked the hair that was typical of the family, and whilst it was often teased at by the others, it was seldom truly a source of contention — he much preferred it, truly. It made him feel as if he were less likely to be mad or to take after the ways of many of his forbearers.

The door to his quarters opened when he pulled upon the handle, the heavyweight swinging open to reveal Ser Whent and three other Targaryen guardsmen. All of them bowed their heads to him, and when Ser Whent looked up at him, the man stepping aside as Aegon exited his quarters, the meaning was not lost on him. They had to move quickly, lest the twin troubles manifest outside of their quarters.


Aegon moved with long, deliberate steps through the halls of the Royal Quarters. There were many and more guardsmen stationed all throughout the Red Keep in general, the trouble owing to assassination attempts on the Royal Family. None were ever close, thank the Gods, but his father had seen fit regardless to strengthen the Goldcloaks and their own Household Guard.

"Ser Whent, do you recall a time when the majority of these quarters were occupied?" Aegon asked as they passed yet another empty quarter meant for royalty, but empty save for the memories and secrets the room possessed.

"No, my Prince," Ser Whent responded stoically and with a shake of his head. "Not for decades have the vast majority of these rooms been filled. I do believe the King made mention of that very issue only recently."

Yes, Aegon thought. I do believe I recall how he mentioned I should sire five babes on each of my sisters… the thought is disgusting. Mayhaps I would have married Margaery Tyrell or Myrcella Baratheon if my father wasn't mad.

"I recall such words now, thank you, Ser," Aegon replied tersely, allowing silence to reign once more as he simply chose to gaze out of the many windows or doorways that were opened for the sake of fresh air.

Before too much longer, what little remained of his trip was finished and there he stood before the entrance to his sisters' quarters. Sers Darry and Lannister were standing guard along with six Targaryen guardsmen. Aegon didn't fail to notice their bowed heads, nor the slight look the sworn brothers of the Kingsguard exchanged. All of them had been cautioned by his father to break apart any squabbles should there be any, and it was likely that all three hoped to avoid such a task.

"My Prince," Ser Darry said respectfully, his head bowed once more.

Ser Lannister smiled at him and dipped his head with that Lannister look upon his face less than Ser Darry had done. "Prince Aegon."

Aegon decided at that moment that Margaery would have made the better wife if only to avoid Ser Lannister's extended presence at his side for the sake of his niece. "Ser Darry, Ser Lannister — I believe I'm expected inside."

"Your words ring true. Allow me, my Prince," Ser Lannister said, jumping on the opportunity as he opened the door wide and with that same earlier small in place on his face.

"My thanks, Ser," Aegon replied with a smile of his own so as to avoid giving the Lannister any satisfaction; he was Rhaenys' favourite and the same could be said in reverse, he would not offer either the chance to know they had gotten to him.

The Prince strolled in, the door was closed behind him and before him lay the cause of all of his life's issues; Rhaenys and Visenya, the very two that he had wished to avoid marrying despite the fact it had been all but known to the realm for ten and six years since his very birth and the establishment of peace at the death of the usurper, Robert Baratheon.

"Sisters," Aegon greeted as he moved towards the table, hoping to avoid th—

Visenya was upon him, her arms pulling him into a tight, near-bone-crushing hug as she kissed each of his cheeks, and finally, his lips. It was a typical greeting from Visenya, a girl who was far removed from her namesake. The kiss tasted of fruit even if he wished not to recall her sweetness.

"She's excited as ever to see you, Aggy," Rhaenys said from her chair, a glass of wine and a plate of fruit before her.

"Rhaenys," Visenya scolded as she turned to face the eldest of their trio, her silver hair whipping up to hit his face. "I've told you many a time that our Aegon doesn't like that moniker, must you provoke him the day after our betrothal? Would you like to have him for one night whilst I have him for ten, mayhaps more?"

Aegon sighed as the two sisters started into one another so early in the morning. It was these very circumstances that he wished to avoid… but in doing so, he took notice of another girl that was in the room and in the far corner, looking out of the window that saw into the vastness of the water that lay at the doorstep of King's Landing.

Tyene Sand, one of his sisters' cousins and the one he knew by way of the Small Council to be the most dangerous of them all for her extensive knowledge of poisons. She would often sit in the place of her father, Oberyn, much to the displeasure of other members of the council; none dare challenge her presence out of fear of her father, and to a lesser degree, herself.

"... capabilities are greater than your own," Rhaenys said, apparently finished with whatever she had said as she looked over to Aegon. "Come, sit, brother. We should celebrate our betrothal. You must be so very excited at the thought of getting little 'Senya and I heavy with babes, isn't that right?"

"Rhaenys!" Visenya yelped, her hair coming forth as she seated herself to hide her blushing face, the violet of her eyes barely peaking out between the curtains of her beautiful, luscio— sisterly, hair.

Aegon shook his head to rid himself of those dark, wrong and freakish thoughts. His sisters, corrupted as they were by their father, mother and the teachings of that Maester couldn't help themselves. It would be up to him and him alone to fight the baser urges that were forced upon them.

"Tyene is here," Aegon said, changing the topic and at once inviting the small blonde girl into their conversation. "You failed to mention that, sisters."

"Tyene's here," Rhaenys said with a roll of her eyes as she gestured for her cousin to come closer.

Visenya smiled and moved enough hair from her face so that her right eye could be seen clearly, her other stayed mostly hidden behind a thick forest of silverish hair. "Nymeria had to take her leave from King's Landing at the behest of Uncle Oberyn, the time was betwixt the morrow and yesterday for her to leave — it was only exceedingly fortunate that Tyene was already here for the sake of the Dornish council seat."

"I'm sure," Aegon said with a smile as the blonde finally came over to the table, her steps slow and noiseless; he half thought not to eat or drink at all on account of her presence, but he thought not that she would see him poisoned. "It's good to see you once more, Tyene. You're as fair as I recall."

"You speak kindly, Prince Aegon. Though, I do believe my cousins wish you would compliment them so rather than I," Tyene responded courteously, her meaning clear as she looked at Visenya and Rhaenys in turn, each of them avoiding looking at him in the process, Rhaenys' case was surprising, for she was ever confrontational and bold in her actions.

Tyene's meaning was clear. It was known to many of House Martell and all of House Targaryen that he wished not to marry the likes of his sisters, but he was the Crown Prince. Wishes need not matter and seldom did when it came to the safety, stability and security of the realm. He was no exception even if his father was able to marry for love and duty twice over. If he recalled, House Martell especially was cross with him for daring to tell his father years ago that he would not marry either of his sisters.

"My sisters are aware of their exceedingly fair looks and fairer personalities," Aegon responded, raising his glass and risking a small sip. Mayhaps if he were lucky, she truly had poisoned him… he knew her real joy was the same as any Martell, the thought of their family on the thrown.

"It would do us well to hear you speak of them, brother," Rhaenys said, speaking up and shooting a look at him that was nearly as sharp as Tyene's resting face was when it came to the girl being in his presence.

Visenya spoke softly, only one eye still visible and her hands wringing together in her lap as she made herself smaller. "I too would like to know that my little brother, betrothed and eventual king does so find me desirable."

"There you have it, Aegon. Put our sweet sister's worries to rest and speak of your eagerness to marry the pair of us, as father has spoken of since you were old enough to comprehend words," Rhaenys urged with one brow raised as she tapped on the glass of her wine.

He knew the words would be false. Rhaenys and Tyene had to know as much too, but if there was one thing that he truly found appealing about Rhaenys, it was her proclivity to support their sister and aunt. Daenerys was sweet, but Visenya was sweeter still. She was a creature the likes of which the world deserved not, for her softness of voice and gentle mannerisms would see her chewed up and spat out by a great many of their courtiers if it weren't for the abundance of their family at court.

"Visenya," Aegon started, one of his larger hands taking hold of one of her smaller ones, the softness all too alluring as his inner turmoil took over. "You're truly one of the most beautiful women to have ever lived, and I know not how I can deserve you. There are many and more men the likes of which hail from the age of heroes that could stand a chance, and even then, I should think not."

Visenya brought forth the other portion of her hair as she lowered her face, seemingly hiding even as he heard a soft giggle come from her. She made herself small, he could barely see one of her two eyes peering at him, barely opened, but her hand squeezed his tightly, and try as he might to reclaim it, she would not suffer him doing so.

"Just don't lock her or I in the Maidenvault, dear brother," Rhaenys said in jest and with a sly smile on her face as she lifted her cup and took a long sip from it. "We would rather be confined to your quarters for a moon than any other place in Westeros for a day, so long as you're with us."

"Lecher," Tyene said with a smile of her own as she finally joined the three Targaryen siblings at the table properly. "You wonder why your brother is nervous and worried about your marriage, yet you tease him constantly about filling the pair of you with babes or doing your heart's content atop him. Perhaps your 'Nuncle Oberyn' should speak with Queen Elia about you."

Rhaenys snorted. "Please, cousin. You know as well as I do how much Nuncle Oberyn dotes upon sweet 'Senya, and who nought for him would have trained me in the ways of the spear to the mastery that I currently have? Forget not that I'm eight and ten — nine and ten come a few moons more — and a woman flowered and ready for marriage. If only for the sake of my little brother, finally six and ten, and the urging of Queen Lyanna, did we wait and yet you wonder why I push for him to fulfill his duties."

"He's not your husband yet," Tyene said with a shrug and glance over at Aegon, her eyes catching his own and a shred of mercy present in her person finally manifesting itself. "Prince Aegon. I know little about the North and whilst a great many of my countrymen, my father included, dislike the people for obvious reasons, I find myself interested nonetheless. You have travelled to Winterfell and seen the Wall, would you tell tales of your journey?"

Rhaenys went tense and Visenya's hand tightened further around his. Tyene was likely unaware or didn't care, for there had been a great worry and frustration in the Royal Family when he had gone to see the Night's Watch with his Nuncle Eddard. They had received an owl from his cousin, Robb Stark, saying as much. From what he had been told, so many ravens, the North had never seen outside of a time of war, such was the worry his father and sisters had that he had gone to join the Night's Watch.

The thought had manifested in his mind, that was true, but he could not give up all that he owned and could do for the sake of a simple escape from his duties. That was assuming his choice would not be undone and his vows rescinded by his father, the King, in the first place.

"Would you prefer a tale of the North, my lady, or one of the Wall and the Watch?" Aegon asked, a more genuine smile on his face than most as he leaned forward to be closer to the blonde girl, his left hand still grasped firmly by Visenya.

"The Wall," Tyene said after a moment's hesitation and with a near-childlike giddiness to her. "I would hear tell of the grandest structure ever created and the Wildlings you fought along the way."

Aegon grinned, and his sisters tensed further. They did so hate the thought of him fighting even if he was never more alive than during those moments, and truth be told not that he would make mention of it whensoever he spoke of the North, he was seldom at risk with the number of guards he'd had at his side.

"It started with a queer enough companion, a golden dwarf…"


"Betwixt my favourite sisters," Aegon mused as his two siblings moved to escort him back to his quarters. They had insisted, you see, for after Tyene's requests and mentions of his Northern expeditions, the pair had seemed touchy and nervous. "I believe I'll say the same when I'm old and grizzled. Isn't that right, sweet sisters?"

Rhaenys grinned at him. "With your hair and mine own, we'll grow grizzled together. 'tis only our 'Senya that will age as our sire has, though I do personally find the idea of you appearing older to be attractive."

"I like him how he currently is. Young, handsome and formidable, he's finally a man grown, and with any luck, he'll join us in the palanquin instead of stubbornly riding ahead with our courtiers and retainers," Visenya commented, one of her small, soft hands taking hold tightly of his closer one. "Perhaps you'll join us when next we see the dragon pit."

"It's nought but a ruin, your fascination is wasted," Rhaenys said with a dismissive wave of her left hand whilst her right pulled Aegon sharply, making the younger boy stumble into her side. There was a victorious look from those dark violet eyes and darker hair when he looked up in challenge. "What? My baby brother seldom hugs me these days, my heart fills to the brim with sorrow at the lack of love."

"Lack of lust, more like. You try to corrupt Aegon, the yearning and tempress within is fitting for your namesake," Visenya said with a childish huff as she pulled Aegon slightly closer to her and away from Rhaenys, her touch far more gentle and tone gentle as it always was.

Rhaenys rolled her eyes and did the same with her head, the look lazy as she eyed up her smaller, younger sister. "And you're far from following in the footsteps of yours, the both of you. Gods and men be damned for all that I care. Aegon should have taken us the day he turned six and ten, and you, Visenya, should have steered him along that path as your original had. Have you learned nought from the lessons we've had for ten and more years?"

"Aegon is the Crown Prince, his desires are mine own — I ask for his love and the duties therein to be fulfilled. Perhaps it's you that forgets yourself. Father has told us that Aegon is the Prince that was Promised, Aegon come again, and we are to be the second and third heads, as is necessary," Visenya lifted her nose, her sharp, pale features beautiful as ever and standing in stark contrast to Rhaenys' tanned, freckled complexion.

Had he believed in the Seven, he would have thought of Visenya as the Maiden-given flesh… Rhaenys, perhaps, was the Goddess of Lust from Lys that Tyrion had spoken about. That was fitting for her since the time she had tried to steal into his bed when he had turned four and ten. Mother had been very angry when she had caught Rhaenys doing so and Visenya had refused to leave his presence for nearly a week, keen on protecting his innocence as much as she was in ensuring that it wasn't stolen out from beneath her.

"Boldly said. How unusual of you, 'Senya the Sweet," Rhaenys said with a mocking tone before she turned her attention back to Aegon. "As always, it falls to me to urge you on your path of marriage and siring the next generation of our family. Your mother, Queen Lyanna, may share your opinion in regard to our match and again, I care not. Father, the King, has said it's to be and his lessons since our conception, since the prophecy proclaimed the three of us were to come again, are all that matter. Waste no more time, dear brother. Father proclaimed within our lifetime that the prophecies will come into fruition and by then, our position mustn't be as weak as it currently is."

Rhaenys separated from the group and Ser Jaime fell in behind her as she peeled away from Aegon and Visenya, her parting words following the two younger Targaryen siblings as she made for her own quarters. "Six moons or less, Aegon — should I hear that you've lain with that Velaryon whore before our bedding, I'll have her head for treason and her body laid on your bed for you to see what you'll never again have. Sweet 'Senya, baby brother."

Aegon's blood ran colder than the North had ever felt at that moment. Lord Varys had spoken of his late-night rendezvous, such was the first thought that ran through the young prince's mind. Next was the thought that the walls of his quarters weren't half as secure as he had thought, for the secrets built by Maegor were known by more than just the Royal Family. Next, the time came that he met with the beautiful Naenys Velaryon, he would strive for soft tones and carefully-selected words more so than he had done already.

"She'll not hurt any of our cousins over some silly crush, Aegon," Visenya said, seemingly unbothered by Rhaenys' words as she swung their conjoined hands and practically skipped along at his side, a careless smile on her face. "Kinslaying wouldn't suit any of us save for Nuncle Viserys… hmmm."

He looked over at Visenya when she trailed off in thought and took notice of her eyes staring forward, at nothing. Her cheeks were slightly rosy, though he attributed that to the particularly hot day and the large dress that she had chosen to wear on it. Gods, the more he looked at Visenya, the more he found himself in a trance. She was a beautiful creature far more so than most, even Naenys or Daenerys would be unlikely to match her innocence, sweetness and overarching fairness.

"You're staring again, baby brother," Visenya said sweetly when she suddenly turned to look at him, a touch of mischief on her face as she folded inwards ever so slightly.

Aegon shook his head and smiled at her, the show of shyness was especially endearing; he wished that wasn't the case. "My apologies, 'Senya. I find myself lost in the sight that you make and confused as to how a woman as exceedingly fair as you, has come to be. Mayhaps you're the Maiden herself if only we truly believed in the gods of the Andals."

Visenya's cheeks grew redder at his words and she looked demurely down at the floor before them as they walked the few remaining steps that would lead them to the door of his quarters. "You're too kind," she said quietly, her eyes flickering up to meet his before they went down again, hiding behind her long silver hair in a way that was far too alluring.

Suddenly, he cleared his mind and coughed into a clenched fist as he moved away from her. The sudden noise made her jolt for one fleeting moment, and then she raised her head so as to look at him once more, this time, through narrowed eyes. "You'll not meet with any other maidens that you mean to sweet talk, will you, brother?"

Aegon shook his head and suppressed the grin as much as he did the stab of sorrow that struck him. "No, 'Senya. Agree not with our father as I may, I'll never dishonour you or Rhaenys, even if the latter is deserving of it many a time over."

"She wishes to do right by our sire, as do I. For your sake and that of our impending marriage, I simply wish her means of doing so would be less… aggressive, as mine own are. We'll sup tonight, baby brother — my heart will be with you until then," Visenya stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, a chaste and short show of affection that left him smiling.

"Ser Darry, please see Visenya safely wherever it is she'll be going today. It wouldn't do if the Tyrells or Lannisters attempted to corner her lacking the presence of Rhaenys," Aegon's face grew sour and his voice turned bitter as he trailed off.

"As you command, Prince Aegon," Ser Darry said with a bow of his head as he moved to stand more closely behind the small Princess Visenya.

At his remark and once the good Ser had responded, a fair blush came to her cheeks and she met his eyes shyly, but with a coyness that was typical of their elder sister Rhaenys. "Jealousy is a trait I'd be pleased to see more frequently in your actions."

Aegon raised his brows and swallowed when 'Senya swept her tongue across the perfect pink lips of hers. She was a sight beholden by many and deserved by none with a personality that said statement rang equally as true for. When she made to finally leave his presence, her Kingsguard and additional Targaryen guardsmen trailing after her, he couldn't help the way his eyes moved without his consent down to her rear. Buxom she may not be, but her arse was one that even a Septon would risk his piety for a glance of.

"Would you like additional guards to shadow her, Prince Aegon?" Ser Whent asked, ensuring that Aegon's attention left his sister's rear and went back to his earlier statement.

"Aye, Ser Whent. See to it that our good Hand and the other members of the Council are unable to corner her, invite her to sup or otherwise vie for her hand, betrothed as she already is. It wouldn't do if I had to challenge any son of House Lannister or Tyrell for her honour," Aegon mused.

Garlan Tyrell was no threat, and neither were most any of the other Tyrell boys save for Loras. House Lannister was in much the same boat, for Joffrey and Tommen each were nought but boys who played in the yard seldomly, oft when their mother wasn't there to stop them from doing so. Still, the young Prince recalled how enraged the Lioness of Casterly Rock had been when she had found her two sons training in the yard with him. It was queer enough for a boy of Joffrey's age to be as inept as he was, but for her to nearly cause an incident with a member of the Royal Family over it was another matter altogether.

He supposed House Lannister itself was queer, as many would say of his own family, sire and grandsire especially.

House Tyrell was no exception. Mace Tyrell, the Hand of the King, was a fat oaf of a man who all too often sought after the hand of Rhaenys or Visenya regardless of Rhaegar's wishes. Against his marriage with his two sisters as he was, Aegon despised the thought of another man taking either of them from his side. He was to be king one day, perhaps sooner than many a person may think, and when that time came there would be much and more that he would revise.

Tywin Lannister as Master of Coin, Pycelle as the Grand Maester and a Tyrell Hand would all require a review, for he knew that all could not be parted with, but one would be practicable. Mayhaps the time would come when his Nuncle Eddard served as his Hand, perhaps the Viper of Dorne would be agreeable for the position too. Aegon knew not, but he would see changes through, that much was certain.

"Prince Aegon," Came but one of a handful of voices that would see the Prince smiling at the mere sound of it. "Your mother has summoned you, she wishes to break her fast with you and see how you're fairing the morning after your sixteenth nameday."

"Please, Nuncle Benjen — Aegon is fine," Aegon said with a grin as he giddily made his way over to the man, a smile on his face and the weight of the impending Kingship completely forgotten in his childlike fascination with all things and people of the North. "Lead on, Nuncle, and please, you're more than welcome to break your fast with us."

"Aye, I suppose you've said as much before, Aegon, but I'd not like to impose on my sister and her only child," his Nuncle Benjen said in that deep, Northern accent that Aegon yearned to have himself. He hated how much of a ponce he sounded like, how Southern he sounded and acted.

Aegon shook his head, half out of spite at his own voice and the other half, at the words of the man before him. "Nonsense, Nuncle Benjen. Your place is here as much as mine own is, and I'd hear what news you have of our Northern family. By the Old Gods, I miss all of them. I've half a mind to leave this all behind and head to the North, where I belong."

Benjen chuckled and patted Aegon on the shoulder, the heaviness of the man's Northern attire still noticeable after over a decade in the South. "I'd wager your mother is of a similar mind… do keep that between us, aye?"

"Aye," Aegon agreed before he cracked a grin. "What say we head to the Wall once more, Nuncle? One last adventure the likes of which Duncan the Tall and Egg would have before I'm married and stuck in this accursed city for the remainder of my life."

"Should your mother and the King approve, I do believe seeing the North once more would do well for these old bones of mine," Benjen agreed.

Aegon nearly promised the man that he would see those plans through, but he held his tongue lest any more words sprang free. As it was, the plans in which he had wished aloud with his Nuncle at his side would reach the ears of his father, Queen Elia and his mother, Queen Lyanna. Mayhaps they would even reach the likes of Visenya and Rhaenys too, for every person in the employ of the Royal Family was a man or woman that belonged to a member therein. Even Aegon had his own group of men and women in his employ for the sake of security; milk maids, kitchen wenches, ladies in waiting or lordlings, all would receive fair payment and sing pretty songs.

Gods did he hate the game, but never would he be inept as so many others oft were.


"Mother," Aegon began with a sigh as Benjen left her quarters to stand guard outside the door alongside Ser Whent and a dozen of their guardsmen.

"No, Aegon. I'll not have you start with 'Mother' and attempt to convince me that I lay in the wrong, and you, the right of the matter," Lyanna said with a stern shake of her head and a gaze that fixed him to his seat. "You are six and ten years of age, and even now, you act the part of a spoiled child. Perhaps the fault lays in mine own hands for coddling you as I did, but the Gods know you were my one child — you'll not drink as you did yesterday, nor will you attempt to flee the city… it would be disastrous should you do so successfully, which you would."

Aegon shook his head. "Not flee, mother. I'd return within a moon, I simply mean to enjoy what little time remains that can be called mine and mine alone. If I'm to be saddled with my sisters, I would like the chance to clear my mind and explore the Kingdoms in which I'm to rule without their presence."

"Rhaegar will never allow you to leave before the marriage has gone through and your vows are spoken before the Gods, new and old, and all men to hear them. You're no fool, Aegon, and certainly not a jester, why act the part now?" Lyanna sounded disappointed with him then, and the way in which she shook her head conveyed that too.

He felt as if he had let her down, and he supposed the words in which he had said in all of his drunkenness — words that he could not remember — had been worse than he had believed. When word reached her that he meant to make for the North and the Wall one last time, he believed there would be all Seven Hells to pay, and so he would wisely keep his mouth closed for the time being.

"My apologies, mother. I'll stay and do as my King and his Queens command, even if the act is abhorrent to many, you and I included," Aegon clenched his fists and raised his head, a look of challenge on his face as he stared at his mother. "Was there nothing you could do to make father see reason? Elia poisons his ears with her sweet agreements and lack of care all for the sake of seeing two Dornish Queens, but surely you recognise the Old Gods and the North will see this as nothing short of an embarrassment, if not worse."

"Don't you think I know that?" Lyanna hissed at him before she stopped, gathered her composure and pinched at the bridge of her nose. "There's nought but me to change Rhaegar's mind while Elia, the Maester he chose to aid Pycelle and his council all agree with him. Tyrell has convinced himself, finally, that your many children from this union will be married to sons and daughters of his family, Tywin believes much the same since he failed to secure Daenerys or Viserys in addition to your sisters."

Aegon felt a sickness pooling in his belly. The food that he had only just eaten didn't seem to agree with him, or perhaps and more likely, the thought of getting his sisters heavy with children was behind the sudden sickness. He brought a hand up to his mouth and bowed his head, willing the building sick to stay within himself, for he did so hate the feelings that accompanied any sickness.

"I know, my sweet boy," Lyanna said somberly as she moved over to him and rubbed at his back, her words light and her touch soft. "I thank the Old Gods every day that your sisters are but half-sisters. Wicked as it may be, it could be worse if they were my birth daughters rather than choice daughters."

He agreed, nodding at his mother's words. Slowly, he hefted his head once more to look at the woman and smiled softly, sorrowfully. She did so mention how alike he and his father were even if neither could completely stand the other; the sadness was a trait that was prominent, heavily prominent, in each of them. It was only Viserys of the Targaryen men that lived carelessly and as his whims directed.


Aegon tried the straps on his armour and ensured they were in good order. It wouldn't do if they came undone as has happened before, seldom as that was. Today, he would attempt, as was usual of him, to best Ser Whent. He had been through years and years of training as it was, and with many of the Kingsguard as his teachers, it wouldn't do if he wasn't at the very least able to last against any of them in a fight. Eight years he had learned from them, and today, he vowed that he would strike Ser Whent.

Ser Dayne… the man was practically the Warrior himself, and as all men knew, there was no besting the Sword of the Morning short of sorcery.

"Spectators, my Prince," Ser Whent said with a nod towards the balcony behind Aegon, a small smile and a bow from the Kingsguard alerting him that the presence was royal, the same as him.

Sure enough, staring down at him were the figures he hoped never to see whilst he trained; Visenya and Rhaenys, along with an entire entourage of young, giggling girls and their mothers that trailed behind. His sisters refused to leave him be through much of the day, but rarely if ever would they come to the yard in the early morning when he favoured his training. His doing so was just a means of avoiding having to break his fast with them whilst also ensuring a lack of spectators — many of the Kingsguard had assured him that men underestimating him or being altogether unaware of his abilities, was a good enough thing.

He believed them too. Some would challenge his birthright, 'The Bastard Prince' the pious would call him even if the marriage was recognised. Gods did he hope for any of them to try their luck against him or his, or for any to slander his mother. They would be felled where they stood.

"We shan't leave them waiting, Ser," Aegon said after he looked away from the gaggle of girls on the balcony and back to his Kingsguard and trainer, Ser Whent.

"No, my Prince, I don't believe we can," Ser Whent agreed with a sure nod as he checked his helm once more. The man constantly had to ensure that his armour, helm included, was prepared before he went anywhere that had a modicum of chance for a fight.

Aegon, meanwhile, wore nought but his training armour the likes of which had belonged to his father, Rhaegar, many years ago when the King was slim of waist and smaller in stature. There was another suit the young Prince had in his possession too, one that was modelled after the tales of Aegon the Conqueror, his namesake; Aegon forewent that particular suit often, for he wished to be his own man rather than the shadow of another. As for a helm, he passed it over in its entirety, for he wished not to don it save for when battle or war truly came.

Truly — and he wouldn't speak of this with his family — in the far North, he had foregone it completely. It mattered not if he and his party sallied out to hunt a band of Wildlings or Iron Reavers, he wished to see the men he would slay clearly, and moreover, he wished for them to know his face as the last thing they would see for their ill-fated ways. Reavers, rapists, murderers, and Wildlings, all would face the King's justice.

"On your move, Prince Aegon," Ser Whent said quietly, his eyes focused on Aegon's sword as the man moved himself to a readied stance, his sword prepped and waiting for whatever move Aegon opened with.

With a nod of his head, Aegon began. He didn't charge the man like an uncivilised savage, nor did he go in immediately for a stab or quick slash, for the latter especially would be useless against a heavily armoured Kingsguard, regardless of his sparring equipment.

Instead, Aegon began to move slowly, methodically and in a circular motion as he looked for any misstep or weakness that the good Ser would have. As always and thankfully, there was none, for the Ser wouldn't be a knight of the Kingsguard if he was so easily bested or his flaws so readily visible to a boy of Aegon's experience.

Aegon finally committed at that point, and he started their spar with a ferocious series of blows directed at the man's sword, hoping to overcome him with quick footwork so that Ser Whent's shield couldn't take the brunt of his blows. He had youth on his side even if the good Ser had strength and experience on his, and as Aegon kept pivoting over and over again to the sword arm of Ser Whent, there was little progress.

Each blow was well-struck and the clanging of metal was heard all throughout the training yard accompanied by gasps and other noises of exclamation from the onlookers. Visenya and Rhaenys' noises couldn't be deciphered through the crowd, he tried his damndest to avoid minding them, for he knew the moment he was distracted, his fight would be over.

Ser Whent took even the half-second that thought provided to pivot away from Aegon and strike him with his shield, sending the Prince a few steps away as he fought to regain his balance. It was then that Ser Whent struck at him, his blade swinging at Aegon's chest and for a moment, it nearly look as if it would strike true.

But it wasn't to be. Aegon would not be bested so quickly and so easily by one of the men he had learned from for years uncountable… at least by his standards. He dropped low, into a crouch and sprang to Ser Whent's right. There, finally, was the opening, and Aegon took it as Ser Whent's blade fought to come back from whence it had struck at him, but his quickness wasn't a match for Aegon's.

Aegon put his sword to the man's throat, and then he grinned. For the second time in all of his years, he had bested Ser Whent and all on account of an error that had nearly cost him the spar. His speed worked well for him, though there were others he knew were faster; Oberyn, Rhaenys, Visenya, and Ser Dayne. Mayhaps even Ser Grandfather, Barristan Selmy, could still gather up the quickness from his youthful days should the situation call for it.

"Well fought, my Prince," Ser Whent said, an inkling of pride in his voice as he stood up and to his full height, his helm removed to reveal damp hair and a crooked smile on the man's scarred visage. "I believe the day's nearing in which I'll have little left to teach you."

With a laugh, Aegon called forth water for him and Ser Whent. "Nonsense, Ser. Between you and the other Kingsguard and even our Household Guard, there's much and more I stand to learn. Had I not ducked and dove to your opening when I had, I dare say I'd be on the floor and looking into the sky wishing I could fly once more."

Ser Whent snorted. "Your speed is amongst the fastest in all of Westeros, though your quips most assuredly need work, my Prince."

If only it wasn't a quip. I yearn for the days of the dragons to return and for our waning strength to return with them.

"I confess myself curious, Ser," Aegon began, changing the topic and taking a deep breath after an especially long drink of his freshly summoned water; he gave thanks to the young lad that fetched it, as he had learned to do by his mother and Nuncles. "Are all fights over so quickly? Wildlings and Ironborn are but savages, I count them not as a true first-blooding for my blade and self, but these spars oft end far quicker than the tales told in the library and through the oral teachings I so often find myself listening to."

"Most any fight you ever find yourself in will be over quicker than you might blink when you rise early in the morn, to remove the crust that forms during your rest," Ser Whent answered as he made towards the weapons rack with his sparring sword and the Prince's too, the latter following after the Ser so that he could continue to hear his words. "Fights in the tales you've heard are best left whence you found them. Many and more embellishments will have been made, though I dare not discount the ones regarding Ser Barristan. I'll not forget he nor Thoros when Pyke rose up once more."

"I wish I would have been able to take part in that," Aegon said wistfully.

Ser Whent gave him a look that he couldn't decipher, but his words conveyed the meaning shortly thereafter. "Your time will come. Never will the realm allow itself peace for more than a decade."

"He speaks truthfully," Came the voice of Aegon's Nuncle Viserys.

Immediately, the young Prince turned to look at the man and saw with him three guards, two of them Dornish and as such, as open a look of hostility as they could muster, had settled on their faces.

"Uncle," Aegon greeted, his eyes flicking back to the weapons rack as he shifted his body a few steps closer. "Have you come to train?"

"Train?" Viserys laughed and waved his hand at the mere suggestion of physical effort, his effeminate hands and near-muscleless form showing just how often the older man found his way to the training yard. "Should the time come that I need pick up a sword rather than having our guards, retainers or smallfolk fight for me, I shall know the world has come to meet its end, nephew."

Ser Whent snorted. "Prince," the Kingsguard said, drawing the attention of Viserys. "It's King Rhaegar's will that Prince Aegon's title is used by all, family included, should they be unable to drop familial relations, Prince Viserys."

Aegon caught the sneer and fish-like manner of Viserys' mouth opening and closing in short succession. For a moment, he thought the man would say something that would cause grievance with the family, but he thought better and bowed once, a look indifference settling on his face.

"As the good Ser says — give my love to my brother too, will you? I don't believe he's very fond of me, between the pair of us," Viserys' eyes went over Aegon and to the gallery of giggling girls still watching the men of the keep practice, but most eyes, Aegon's sisters included, lay on the two Princes. "You're very lucky, Aegon… give my love to your sisters for me too, will you?"

Ser Whent stepped forward at the lecherous, disrespectful tone that Viserys' words had taken, and Viserys' three men did much the same.

Aegon put a hand out for the Kingsguard to stop, but no comment such as that would be let go. "There'll be a tourney soon, Nuncle. I'll look for you in the stands whilst I win the dual crowns for my two betrotheds," he stepped forward, his height making him stand just as tall as his uncle. "Mayhaps you'd be kind enough to give my love to your sister as well? I do so wish to see my lovely Aunt Daenerys more frequently than the present would allow… convey my apologies, my love, and my admiration for her. Between the pair of us, I envy the man who gets to wed and bed her."

Viserys' upper lip trembled. The man's fists, small and pale, clenched so hard that the knuckles thereof began to turn red; 'waking the dragon' he would call it, but the others heard such words as not but a jest. Viserys was no true dragon, he was thin and weak, and the signs of madness from his 'pure' Valyrian blood that he spoke so oft about were already showing themselves.

When the man turned, his clothing flapping at the sudden movement and the smell of his sickly sweet perfume similar to that of the Spider greeted Prince Aegon's nose, he knew that he had won that bout of words. With 'Senya or Rhaenys, it was a rare thing when much of their studying was in political machinations at the behest of Elia and their father, it was in stark contrast to Viserys the inept.

"He'll remember that," Ser Whent commented quietly, as Viserys and his four guards made haste towards the exit of the training yard.

"I'll see to it that he's reminded frequently, Ser," Aegon said with a small wave at the one Dornish guard that looked back at him before he cast his eyes back to the group of women watching him. "Visenya and Rhaenys look pleased twice over. I suppose they appreciate my victory of the latter sort more than the former."

Ser Whent didn't comment.

Mayhaps the time will soon be upon me where I'll duel Rhaenys and see if she truly should have been named Visenya. She's the mind and strength to be like the woman… my Visenya is far and away from her namesake when it comes to swinging steel. Her preference for the bow and arrow is nearly as queer as the little Lord Lannister.

"The Street of Steel awaits, Ser Whent," Aegon said suddenly as he turned on his heels and nodded towards the exit whence Viserys had left nought but the time it had taken him to think of his sisters ago. "We search for the most fanciful steel worker. I yearn to gift my sisters a pair of armour each and of my own design rather than that of my father's."

Ser Whent followed after him, ever the faithful companion and willing aid in all choices of the militaristic type.


When next the time came for Aegon to rise and remove himself from his bed, it was under much more pleasant circumstances. No longer did his room smell of sweat, his own stink and stale air, for the night before he had ensured that his windows all stay open for the soft breeze with the scent of rain on it and the ever-present tinge of salt. That scent was far better to start the day with, and the food that lay at the foot of his bed was even better; thick cuts of bacon, a fat leg of chicken, eggs with the yolks golden and running all served with bread and berries.

It was a meal fit for only the wealthiest of all men on the planet, and Aegon could not want for more, so he was told.

His father would frequently have a hearty meal such as that sent to Aegon's chambers for the young Prince to break his fast with, otherwise, he would have expressed gratefulness. The meal was oft more present in his life than the man who ordered it delivered, for he sought after Visenya and Rhaenys more often than his heir. Aegon knew not the reasoning save for the one that he and his mother, Lyanna, had come up with; his sisters were weaker in their willpower and had bought into the many tales that Rhaegar had wished upon them. Readily, the two girls had agreed to marry him years before he had even spoken his first words.

Lyanna had been cross for nearly five years and some months with his father, but there was nought that she could do to change that or anything in relation to it.

Aegon shrugged and relaxed into the comfortable sheets and mattress. His room was clean-smelling and pleasant, his breakfast was still warm and smoking, and his time for the day was truly his own. All that he could strive to change of his own accord was perfect, which left only the matters that he could not resolve without his father's input or that of his mother or Elia.

When the small council meeting came later in the day and Aegon's lesson with Rhaegar, however brief they oft were followed shortly thereafter, he would be suitably buzzed. Lord Tyrion had told him loudly and frequently that all circumstances stressful or bothersome were far better to deal with under the aid of a glass of wine. Aegon was no drunk as the little Lannister was, but the advice had done much to aid him in having calmed nerves when without, he would have shaken.

Perhaps Tyrion Lannister could be an advisor to him and his Queens when the time came for Aegon to be crowned King.


"... would leave us a gain of nearly thirty-three thousand and fifty-two golden dragons, your grace," Lord Tywin said in his deep, drawled tone before he sat himself down, his book for accounting closed and a smile on his face as he received praise from King Rhaegar.

"A more worthy Master of Coin in my time as Grand Maester, I have never seen, your grace. Lord Tywin could teach the Citadel much in the matter of arithmetics," Pycelle crowed on, a smile of acknowledgement and that was all given by Rhaegar as he looked around the table; it was known that Pycelle was a man of House Lannister, but there was no reason to 'antagonise' the Lion by removing one of his pride.

Rhaegar's eyes fell onto Aegon as silence reigned, and as always when that happened, the oaf that was Mace Tyrell, the Hand of the King for nought but his gold, wheat and army, spoke to fill it. "If that is all, my Lords, the King is ve—"

"There is one more matter that my Lady Wife Lyanna passed to me," Rhaegar said softly, his left hand holding up a letter as his right sought out the edge of the table, all eyes falling to him in silence with the Tyrell man all but falling into his seat, quiet. "Aegon, read it aloud for the sake of the council. I know the words likely to be within the contents of this letter and would wish for a fresh opinion from my son, as the future ruler of the realm and a man with experience in these matters."

Aegon furrowed his brows but deftly took the letter from his father, not failing to memorise in depth the words with which he had just heard fly free from his father's mouth. It almost sounded as if his father was deferring to him, but that couldn't be. He had never done so before and Aegon very much doubted he would start now, in the company of the greatest Lords of Westeros. Be that as it may, it didn't change what had happened or the way in which all the eyes of the room had shifted to him; the Spider, the Lion and the Viper were unnerving when their gazes combined, and the rest, far from it.

'To the Good King Rhaegar, King of the Andals and the First Men · Lord of the Seven Kingdoms · Protector of the Realm · Protector of the Seven Kingdoms,

I, Jeor Mormont, request once more aid from the Seven Kingdoms, for the nights grow longer and with them, monsters, the new and the old, stir. It is with thanks to the Crown that we may now man six points along the wall with the men to strongly garrison them, but it is not enough.

There is a ranging to be had soon, and before the true winter comes — and it is coming — and with that ranging, I mean to secure proof of the dead walking once more. I will send Ser Thorne if all should go well, and should it not, a new letter will find its way here, for the sake of the realm.

As many men as you can send and the provisions to put food into their bellies and steel in their hands.

Jeor Mormont

Lord Commander of the Night's Watch'

Aegon set the letter down and looked at his father despite the chorus of laughter that filled the room from those within that deserved not the chairs they sat their fat asses in. Rhaegar was not laughing, nor was Aegon, for that letter and the contents therein gave credit to the words in which Rhaegar had spoken frequently to his children and family as a whole. If they were true, what else was?

"Aegon," Rhaegar said when his hands sought the air and the laughter died down, the Viper and the Lion paying close attention to the words that followed moreso than the others were, the Spider included. "What say you? The decision is yours to make, for you have seen the Wall, and the Wildlings and heard tell of the monsters beyond it."

"Order all Lords to empty their dungeons and have the contents of them sent to the Wall for the Lord Commander," Aegon said, looking from man to man and finally, at his father. "Those men will do nought rot and wither away in a dungeon should they stay, but in place of that, they should be sent where they're needed, mayhaps the realm will yet again defeat the Wildling host — I know not of the dead or other beings from stories born from the Age of Heroes, but I know that holding the wall as we've done for centuries is necessary. You've said so yourself, father, and your words are law."

Rhaegar nodded, and the look in the man's eyes as the Small Council began to discuss the choice and logistics of it told Aegon that the two would speak once more when all was said and done.

For once, Aegon looked forward to it, for his father's dragon dreams may have finally rang true in this instance. That did not mean the Prince would suddenly buy completely the many things which his father had said; the 'Three Heads of the Dragon' or the 'Prince that was Promised' were still far too much for him to believe, but a great evil the likes of which were as magical as the dragon's House Targaryen had once possessed… aye, it was believable.


"Your Grace, perha—" Grand Maester Pycelle tried as the rest of the Small Council left the room, Lord Tywin deep in talks with Lord Tyrell whilst the others, especially the Velaryon member, left with haste.

"Another time, Grand Maester," Rhaegar said politely as he beckoned Aegon closer. "My son and I have a lesson to tend to. Tomorrow, I'll be fresh of mind and eager to share words with a man as wise as you."

The Grand Maester sputtered for a few seconds before he dipped his head. "Your Grace," he said, and then he made to hobble away as well as he could in his advanced age.

Aegon didn't trust the Grand Maester all that much. A man of the Citadel he might just be, but he was a pawn of the Lannisters and a man who had done nought but complain when difficult situations arose. Aegon's parents, all three of them, often spoke idly of removing the man for his uses and loyalty was no longer completely their own. It had been that way since before Aegon's sire had deposed his grandsire, and until the old man fell — or was hastened on his passing — he would be meddlesome and bothersome.

The closing of the sole door that led into the council chambers told Aegon that privacy the likes of which could be expected in the Red Keep was given, and immediately, his father began by pouring a cup of wine for the pair of them.

"The dead stir in the frozen wastes of the far North, beyond the Wall," Rhaegar said quietly, his eyes on the two cups as he filled them. "The prophecy given to me by my mother, and before her, her sire and on the tree goes, has arrived. Mayhaps I shall still be king, perhaps not… you and your sisters mustn't be ill-prepared."

"We're not," Aegon interjected, furrowing his brows. "You personally have seen to our lessons and encouraged us in the yard. We're ready for whatever might come to us, and should we fail, we have our family."

"You are. Viserys, Daenerys, your mothers, none are mentioned. Just the three of you," Rhaegar stressed, his eyes brought up to pin Aegon to his seat and fix him with a stare that spoke of grief and nervousness, but most of all, exhaustion; bags of heavy-looking design and dark colour were under his father's eyes, and for the first time, he looked as if he were a tired, ageing man. "You are summer children that have never known war, pestilence, cold or the fullness of our birthright. 'Tis you, my son, that will see it restored, but first we must be allowed time to finish our machinations."

Aegon swallowed. He didn't want to bring anything of that nature up save for the dead men, but Rhaegar wasn't to be stopped.

"Your Visenya will strengthen you and urge you ever onwards in the matter of sword, conquest and vengeance. Rhaenys will make many an heir and alliance, and with Visenya's children as well as her own, she shall teach the ways of House Targaryen — the pair combined will ride dragons the likes of which the three of you shall need return if Westeros is to prevail against the coming darkness. I've seen it, as have a great many of our forebearers," Rhaegar took a long sip from his cup then, his eyes settling on a map of Westeros that had been laid out for the meeting and forgotten by the Grand Maester.

"Was there no other way, father? If the dead are to come and the darkness along with them, was there truly no way to avoid having to marry Rhaenys and Visenya if the world is to prevail?" Aegon asked. He couldn't help himself, for he knew the sin he was committing was great in the eyes of the Old Gods — his gods — and the Seven.

Exceptionalists of the Seven could be damned for all he cared, for he wanted not to be called the Bastard Prince who sired children on his two sisters. Already, many in Dorne and more throughout the rest of the Seven Kingdoms thought of him as illegitimate and from a… he would not give thought to the word they used for his mother.

"What must be done is as I've done. I would not risk the world so for the happiness of any, even with how badly I wish the opposite to be true. No father wishes to fail in the eyes of his children, least of all when the matters are pertaining to their lives," Rhaegar turned and gazed out of the window and at the vast sea that brushed against King's Landing. "I would see our family strengthened, the realm safe and the world proper before I return to the dirt. We all must do our duty.

"What was it Nuncle Aemon said — 'love is the death of duty' or something of that likeness?" Aegon asked. "If only it were true."

Rhaegar didn't respond to the slight and instead looked at the sea with a look on his face that made Aegon question just how much of the world his father was truly seeing. Perhaps the man had truly gone mad as mother had mentioned she once feared a few months past.

"Love will grow as a flower might as your duty is fulfilled in the coming moons," his father suddenly said. "Your mother has done hers when she birthed you, and Elia has done the same when I sired your sisters on her. Three heads, three conquerors restored, the dead returned, all that's needed now is the blade and the eggs."

"Father?" Aegon asked, his contempt and anger directed at his marriage suddenly forgotten at the mention of a blade and eggs.

"You'll stay here until your marriage and consummation," Rhaegar said, changing the topic and putting Aegon even further on his back foot.

He nodded nonetheless, even if his father didn't take note of his doing so. "I planned to."

Rhaegar then, finally, looked back over at Aegon. The man's hands were tightly holding the arms of his chair, and his eyes were as unseeing as they'd been when they'd gazed at the sea even as violet irises met violet irises. "My sweet had a dream in which a black-haired Prince fled the Red Keep and to a field of Winter Roses, there was a crow that urged him onward, until he too, was dressed all in black and crossing swords with a monstrosity made of ice."

"I see not how that affects me, father," Aegon said as he made to stand from his chair. "I'm here, I won't flee… what of those monstrosities made of ice? You don't mean the White Walkers that you've made us read about during our studies, do you?"

"To take the Black would see us plunged into another war…" Rhaegar said, not at all listening to Aegon as he turned his attention back to whence it had originally been. "No… it mustn't happen. More guards, yes. Spiders in the walls, as she said there were."

"Father. The White Walkers and the darkness? Please?" Aegon tried, but to no avail, for his father was lost as he so often was since the boy had become a man; the prophecies, dreams of sweet 'Senya and much more weighed heavily on his father, and never would he be able to speak in Aegon's presence for long.

Not for the first time, though certainly, he would never give these thoughts the air needed to say them aloud, Aegon wished that his father was a man such as Ser Whent or his Nuncle Eddard. Either would be more present and both had taught him more.

"I'll bring the map to the Grand Maester, and I'll send for mother and Queen Elia to come for you," Aegon said with a small, respectful bow as he grabbed up the map and made for the door.

"Send for your sisters instead. I would have words with them both, and sup with them too," Rhaegar said, shaking his head and looking down at his hands. He spoke again whilst looking at seemingly nothing. "You too shall not sup alone — your mother and Elia, I would see you speak and share your meal with them both."

Aegon swallowed. He hated being in the same room as the two women, but if his father commanded it to be, he would listen. There was nothing he could do that would allow him to go against his word without repercussions.

"As you command, father."


Aegon rose and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and the leaves from his shirt. He had fallen asleep below the heart tree, the comfort he felt near the tree of his gods second to none, and the rest just as perfect. The air oft smelt of salt, the sea and the minor stench of the vast, sprawling city below, yet the flowers nearby and the godswood itself did away with the familiar stench.

In its place, his nose was assaulted with the sweet scents of blossomed plants, grass, trees and the earth itself. There was no better smell for a man of the Old Gods, and no better rest, truly.

Mayhaps one day I'll spend the entirety of it in the godswood so as to avoid the drama family brings with it, the oblivious courtiers and the fools that come for scraps off our table.

He huffed. Since his betrothal, there had been people in abundance and nothing that he would do would see them removed. Many, it seemed, would be here until the time of his wedding, and more would likely stay for a moon or so past. All would seek out matches for their own sons and daughters, perhaps the boldest would try and hedge a deal with Aegon and his two sister-wives for a match before even the consummation of their wedding.

Tywin Lannister or the Tyrells would be chief amongst those likely to lay the foundations for a match. The Starks… he had heard they might not even be present when the time came for Aegon to wed, for too fresh were the wounds of war for their family. Lord Arryn of the Vale was of a similar mind whilst Lord Tully was oft sick in his bed with ailments unsolvable to his Maester or those that would go to aid him.

Perhaps all of that was for the best. The Martells cared not for those who had risen up in rebellion against their blood, and the Lannisters as well as the Tyrells much preferred to lord their victory over the other houses than to express any true sense of hatred. It would be a game of words with the latter two, and one that could devolve into swordplay for the former most of the three.

"Wallowing out near the heart tree as usual, are you?"

Aegon looked up, his mind shaken free of his thoughts as his eyes settled on a familiar boy. "Why if it isn't Harrold Mallister," he said with a snort as he removed what remains of the natural earth from his clothes and stood to his full height. "Finally back?"

"Aye, it's me. Taller, stronger and ready to pray to my gods until I saw some ponce sitting under the tree taking his afternoon nap," Mallister said as he stepped a few feet closer to the Prince.

"Ponce?" Aegon snorted and looked the older boy up and down. "Taller, stronger, and fatter too, it would seem. I no longer see your younger brother with you, did the time come that you tired of his company and sought him out as a source of food?"

Mallister narrowed his eyes, stepped towards the Prince and Aegon made to meet him. The distance between the two closed, Aegon's arm stretched out to meet Mallister and like that, the two boys shook hands before the larger of the two, that being Mallister, pulled Aegon in for a hug.

"I've missed you, brother," Harrold said in that rough, Northern accent that had nearly gone away the last time Aegon had seen him.

"And I, you," Aegon responded, their hug lasting for nearly three seconds before the two pulled back to look at one another with matching shite-eating grins. "You didn't come straight here, did you?"

Harrold shrugged, his grin filled with cheek. "What makes you think that?"

"You smell like a whore," Aegon answered bluntly before he leaned forward to pluck at something on the taller boy's cloak. "She marked you with errant strands of hair. I pray you didn't pick one in my city, for if you have, it's best that you see a Maester before the rot spreads."

Mallister's eyes went wide. "You best be jesting. I've not travelled all this way for a friend just to find myself rotting away the first stop I make to relieve myself."

"I fear you have," Aegon said solemnly. He gestured over to the heart tree and patted Harrold on the back. "If I were you, Harrold, I would pray to the gods. You'll be seeing them before too long, so it's best that you get even with them before that time comes."

Harrold began to sputter as he failed to move, and then, realisation dawned on him when Aegon cracked a smile; the latter wanted nought for his friend's heart to fail so soon after his arrival. "You're terrible. I feared the end was near and I was stuck here with you to endure it. Either of your sisters makes for prettier company, even if you are softer-looking than any of the women in my father's castle."

Aegon snorted. "I wager that's not entirely true. You've not seen me in the yard for nearly a year and a half as many moons towards a second's passing. We'll fight when you're well-rested on the morrow, I'll not have your 'exhaustion' take the credit for my win."

Mallister snorted, and then the two boys made to leave the godswood, intent on finding trouble or food for themselves. Whichever came first.


"More wine!" Aegon called as a servant entered his room, Darcy or something, he thought her name was.

She bowed, swallowed and skurried out of the room with a speed that seldom any of his servants used. Mallister laughed and shook his head at the interaction.

"Scared'er, I bet! The Prince of the realm, drunk! What… sight to see," Harrold took a long gulp of wine when he finished, rubbed his mouth with the back of his sleeve and then let loose a belch that was loud enough to silence the nearest birds from their singing. He laughed loudly with Aegon, and then he suddenly stopped. "Wine, wine… wine. Ain't you got some ale, Aegon?"

Aegon grinned. "You think you can keep up? I drink with," he furrowed his brows and tried hard to concentrate. Aegon nearly began to count on his fingers, but he shook his head and rid himself of the confusion that had begun to overcome him. "My whole family, more'er less!"

"Those sisters o'yours barely drink, I reckon. Little southron princesses… can't do much more than sip from a little glass of wine," Harrold said with a grin, his hand once more seeking out the wine that he had only just complained about. Still, he seemed all too accepting of the liquid even if it wasn't up to his Northmen tastes.

"Surely you jest, Mallister," Aegon said with a snort as he rapidly blinked his eyes, the two damned things going fuzzy for a few seconds too long for his liking. When that blurriness dissipated and a moment of clarity struck, Aegon continued whence he'd left off. "Rhaenys, she could drink you and I each under the table, 'tis the truth. The Sand Snakes — surely you've heard of them all beyond those of renown — could do the same. All spawn of the Martell family do nought but drink, sate their lusts and fight."

Harrold clapped Aegon loudly on the shoulder, nearly knocking the Prince over from the impact and himself too by way of the movement to do so. "Lucky you and your Princely cock!"

"Princely cock, is it? I'll remember that when next I find myself in the North, mayhaps I'll finally visit your…" Aegon brought a fist up to his mouth and promptly closed it as he felt a wave of nausea begin to rise from the depths of his belly and up his throat.

He would not puke now. Never would any member of the royal family do something so undignified within the eyes of their subjects, friends or not.

There was a knock at the door whilst Aegon was trying to stop the coming wave of sick from leaving him, and so with a look at Harrold, he waved his hand. His message was clear; allow the wench with ale in so that they might finish their evening of drinking. For Aegon, that evening was all but finished as it was, for an ounce more and all that he had filled himself on for the day would grace his floors, and he knew the stench would linger far longer than he would like.

"En'er," Harrold called after a few seconds of Aegon gesturing wildly to the door, his fist banging on the table as he spoke.

When the door opened, it revealed not a kitchen wench, but a silver-haired girl and a white-cloaked man over her shoulder. "Princess Visenya has come to see you, Prince Aegon," Ser Darry said, his eyes on the Prince and the Prince alone.

He was silent when the words were said, as was Mallister as he cast a long look at Aegon.

Aegon swallowed down the bile that threatened to make its escape from tween his lips and gave as good a smile as he could to his sister. His face was flushed from the alcohol, the room felt as if it were spinning and most of all, he was certain the stench of alcohol festered on him — whereas Rhaenys might find it enjoyable or not remotely bothersome, Visenya preferred sweet things, from lemon cakes to sweet perfumes, all must be perfect for her.

Truly, she was the quintessential princess of the realm, his Visenya.

"Ser Darry," Visenya began in her soft, near song-like speaking. "Please see Lord Mallister escorted back to his chambers. Fret not for my wellbeing, Ser, for the good Ser Whent and Aegon's ten and six guards remain outside the entrance to his chambers."

"Guess that's me finished for the evening," Harrold whispered to Aegon before he stood up, swaying, and bowed as best he could to the Princess; he fell face first before her, and so close had he come to hitting her toes that Ser Darry had reached for the pommel of his sword out of instinct.

Visenya giggled and curtsied back to the fallen lordling. "You're forgiven, Lord Mallister before even you need ask to be," she paused and looked closely at him, her eyes looking as if they were unfocused for all of a second before she shook her head and smiled back at Aegon. "My sweet brother, whatever shall I do with you?"

Ser Darry nor Harrold would hear his response, for within seconds, the two were out with the door closed loudly behind them. All that remained was Aegon, Visenya, wine, and the lingering breeze that flowed throughout the room with nought but one single bird singing its song.

"Aid me on my way to bed and… and let me sleep this damned drink off," Aegon suggested, a few errant bits of spittle leaving his mouth as he struggled to speak.

Visenya tutted at him and skipped along the floor until she was before him. She stood on the tips of her toes with her hands clutching one another behind her back, those great purple-hued irises staring at him as she presented herself as the picture of innocence."I think not," she said with a large smile, one slight, deft finger swiping at his bottom lip.

"Whas'that?" He asked as he tried — and failed — to follow her finger as she twirled it the entirety of the way to her mouth, where she promptly stuck out a small pink tongue to swipe at that finger of hers.

"You had a droplet of wine that was stubbornly refusing to fall into the trap that would be your stubble. It's not oft I like the taste of wine, baby brother, but it was too tempting an offer to refuse," Visenya swiped her tongue across her lips and batted her eyelashes up at him, her eyes deferring to the ground as he took a half-step closer to her, the action submissive and alluring, but he knew the truth; she played him as if he were the fool, and each time, he proved her right.

Aegon struggled under his own weight so that he might make his way over to his bed, but the journey was long and his legs cumbersome. He leaned on the nearest chair that he could all the while Visenya watched him. Her eyes tracked him as her hands came to fall alongside her sides.

"Surely you won't go to bed in such a state," Visenya said with another girlish giggle hidden behind one hand.

He didn't justify her with a response, and he would not. Aegon simply continued the struggle across the cold stone floor, bumping into every object that came within feet of him, until he made it to the left of his bedside. His sheets were wild, old-smelling and right where he had left them, and the scent of bed and the call of its comfort sang to him as the prettiest woman might.

"Stop," Visenya said sharply, one slight foot hitting the ground and causing a slapping sound. "I'll do as I did when you were younger and our mothers were busy with father… I do so miss those days — Ser Whent! Send word that a bath fit for three and the hot water to fill it are brought at once."

Visenya's words carried the same sharpness with which she had only just instilled into her voice, as she called to the Kingsguard beyond the door, and whilst Aegon wished to hear the man's response, the man's voice was muffled and Aegon's ears were ringing. Mayhaps it was the drink or the shrillness of Visenya's voice, whatsoever it was left his head feeling as if he had just been struck.

When next his thoughts and senses were restored, he found himself being hoisted from his bed by his sweet sister in a show of surprising strength. Enough so that he nearly thought it was Rhaenys in her place, if not for her manoeuvring him than for the tone she had only just used.

"We have the same eyes, did you know that?" Visenya asked as she pulled him further up and away from his bed.

He snorted. "We've the same father, I'd expect nothing less."

Visenya disregarded his statement and looked more closely at him, a sweet smile on her face as she went back to that demure, maiden-like attitude. "I once spoke with the Grand Maester about the many shades of the colour purple, for I wished to know the shade that you, I and Rhaenys possess. It would be fitting if they matched, and would that I could predict the eyes of the children you sire on me."

"What colour are yours and mine, then? Go on," Aegon, even minorly drunk as he was, knew that the talk of children or the like was a conversation he greatly wished to avoid, and so he would seek out her fascination with their similarities, even if it was strangely perverse to put words to them on account of their betrothal.

Gods did he wish that his mother could have talked Rhaegar down from it. She had said time and time again how unnatural it might be, how the Starks — their kin — would view such bonds and the Old Gods with which she had raised him to adhere might abandon him for two acts of incest.

"...-digo, you and I each. Rhaenys is different in hers, as is typical of our older sister," Visenya began to tap when she finished the words with which he had all but failed to hear. She was clearly impatient with waiting for their servants, but he knew the time and muscle it would require to move the large bath and the many buckets of heated water.

They would be lucky if the items were brought up within the next thirty minutes, and by that time, Aegon planned for her to be gone and for none save for himself to be present whence he washed. Rhaenys might prefer servants, Visenya and the others too, but he was the Crown Prince and he would see himself clean of his own accord. Mayhaps he might even send for a meal to help him reach sobriety before he fell to the ever-beckoning bed.

"You needn't stay, 'Senya," Aegon said as he pulled together to the best of his abilities what remained of his ability to articulate himself. "I have bathed many and more times than I might count by my lonesome, and should you remember when last we bathed together, it was nearly ten years ago with the presence of Rhaenys and our mothers."

"Aegon!" Visenya chastised with a flushing of her cheeks as she looked to the walls of his room, her eyes flicking betwixt the floor and his eyes many times over, her lashes and long hair acting as a shield from his own gaze. When she spoke a few seconds later, the words that came free of her mouth were far from what he had been expecting. "Should the spiderlings, cats or weeds that grow within our keep hear such words, they will think our family more perverse than we truly are… you shouldn't suggest Rhaenys and our mothers bathe with us…"

Visenya's tone was quiet, nought but a whisper that he nearly missed thanks to the sudden whipping of the wind, but still, he had heard it and when he had, he stumbled backwards and away from his sweet, corrupt, beautiful, sister.

"You misunderstand me and I think purposefully so, 'Senya," Aegon said as a headache began to settle in, the fog replaced by the throbbing of his forehead. "I mean to say that I and I alone, need bathe. The sentiment is polite of you to offer, but please, sweet sister, remember that I stand as the Crown Prince and the words with which you spoke only recently were heard quite well. You wish to see me happy and claimed it to be your goal — I'll not give you an order, but when the time comes, I shall bathe alone. Should you wish it, I would permit you to sup alongside me as I eat once more on this eve."

The look that he received in return for those words was scathing. "You speak truly," she admitted, but still, Visenya refused to move from her spot before him and instead, climbed into his lap. If she hoped to make him uncomfortable, she was mistaken, for he was born of ice and fire… with a boost of liquid courage from his favourite wine, courtesy of Lord Blackwood. "Yet I care not. You are mine and I'm to be yours, and should I wish it, father would order you to allow my company. I'll not give you an order, baby brother, so enjoy my affection, won't you?"

Aegon wanted to snarl at Visenya, but he would not credit her so. "Do as you'd like, the two of you tend to do so regardless of my wishes — ah, I should warn you too, you mustn't keep me up for long this eve."

"Why?" Visenya asked, screwing together her eyebrows as she leaned in to look at him, her threatening words and intenseness now absent as she looked at him with all the wonder of a bratty lord's daughter.

"I break my fast with Naerys and the rest of House Velaryon, and in the eve, I sup with Margaery and the rest of House Tyrell at the invitation of Lord Mace. He wishes me to visit Highgarden, there was even talk of a tourney should I do so," Aegon said with a muse the lattermost tidbit, the idea of Highgarden honouring him of all people so incredibly amusing when the North simply treated him normal, like a Stark.

"Rhaenys will be angry," Visenya said, her eyebrows still together as she leaned back from her spot in his lap. "Weeds spring up from betwixt the cracks as they form."

Aegon rolled his eyes. She was strange and his words hadn't had the effect that he had hoped they would. He huffed and rolled his eyes, his hands settling on her hips and falling ever so slightly into their softness. "Must you and Rhaenys be so everpresent in all that I might do? I wish for freedom and agency, not the suffocating grasp of family and prophecies wherever I so choose to go."

"We were named after the conquerors. Father says we'll have dragons again, that you'll defeat all, see peace settled and restore our family. Wherever you so choose to go, Rhaenys and I were bidden to follow you… and I love you, I would show that love to all that might set eyes on you," Visenya leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, a contented sigh following up that token of affection. "Naerys, our dear cousin, she lusts for you with loins looser than the sails of a ship and the 'rose' of Lowgarden has the looks of any common smallfolk. I have no need to feel jealousy, but if you wish it, I will strive to bother you less."

Those words made Aegon feel like a right piece of shite, especially when she refused to look back at him after saying them. He wished everything had been different, that he had been raised right and that his sisters would be nought but sisterly, but that wasn't his lot in life nor would it ever be.

"Just a bit of time so that I might meet and learn of those that will one day swear fealty to us without them believing be inept without the presence of my two beautiful sisters," Aegon said. "When I go back to the North again, I swear to you that I'll not stay moons longer than I swore to."

Visenya shrugged and patted him on the cheek, then she jolted forward to flick her tongue on that very same cheek. "Take me with you, I would meet your family and see the culture you find yourself beckoned by."

"I do—" Aegon was interrupted by a knock at the door and Ser Whent's voice.

"The bath and water, my Prince and Princess."

Visenya clapped in his lap and deftly jumped off, her bare feet pittering across the stone as she skipped to the door all the whilst she still clapped in her excitement. "Come in, come in — place it away from the balcony, no, not by the couch… yes! Near the fireplace!"

Aegon sighed and reclined in his bed; Visenya would take five minutes or more before everything was perfect and to her specifications.

Mayhaps a life such as this wouldn't be horrible even if he were to be forsaken by his gods, the Seven and the majority of the realm. They were Targaryens, and as his father frequently said to them, they answered not to gods nor men and soon, the dragons would be back.