161 AC, King's Landing

Aegon

The sound of steel on steel rang out in the yard, along with the staccato of wood striking wood. The training yard in the Red Keep was a hive of activity, with knights testing their mettle against each other on one side and men-at-arms being drilled on the other. In another corner of the yard were the squires. While they would usually be taught by the master-of-arms in the arts of war, it was Aegon who had taken up that task that day.

"Up!" Aegon said sharply. "If you fall, then you rise."

On the ground lay Quentyn Ball, his squire. Sweat dripped from his brow as he struggled to push himself to his feet. Opposite him stood Ser Harold Ryger twirling a practice blade lazily. Quentyn got to his knees and glared up at Aegon, panting.

"It's not fair!" he said, shrilly. Aegon tried not to grin at his squire's expression of outrage. "He's a lot older than I am."

"What did I say about complaining, Fireball?" Aegon asked, schooling his face into a stern expression.

Quentyn wilted. "Not to," he said, looking away. He was panting hard, and Aegon could see a couple of bruises blooming on his arm. Perhaps it was enough practice for the day.

"Break for the day, Quentyn. Wash up and meet me here," Aegon ordered. Quentyn nodded and ran off, glad to be out from under Aegon's demanding eye.

Aegon knew Quentyn had come to the yard in the Red Keep every day since their arrival. It made him proud to see his squire's dedication. I want to be as great a knight as Prince Aegon! he had said when Aegon sent Ser Jon Harte to inquire about his squire's sudden diligence. Those words made Aegon prouder. He smiled. Aemon had been the same, always wanting to be the greatest knight in the realm.

And with that thought, the smile slipped from Aegon's face. Aegon knew he was not as great a knight as Aemon was. The pride he felt at hearing his squire call him such turned bitter in his mouth. Ser Harrold Ryger turned to look at him, perhaps sensing his thoughts.

"How may I be of service, my prince?"

Aegon waved him away. "I have no more use of you, for now, Ser. The rest of the day is yours to do with as you will."

Ser Harrold smiled. "I wish to serve, my prince, just as Jon there," Harrold said, pointing to Ser Jon Harte who stood by, ever Aegon's shadow. "I would be happy to act as your partner should you choose to practice single combat."

Aegon shook his head. "There is no point in fighting if you do not fight to kill." Fighting with dulled weapons and weighted maces excited no passion for Aegon. "I would just as well be playing with dolls for all the emotions that sparring in the yard gives me. My blood does not rise, not for a practice spar and not here in King's Landing," he said. "You of all people should know my preferences, Harrold."

Harrold lowered his head in deference. "I only offered in the case you wished for it, my prince."

"I do not," Aegon said. "I will be off to my chambers. Do not follow me, Harrold. We leave for Dorne in a moon's turn. Go to a tavern. A brothel. Get drunk. Father some bastards." Aegon chuckled.

"I would rather die, my prince," Harrold replied, "than sire a bastard."

Aegon's chuckles turned into full-blown laughter, distracted from Aemon's memory. "How honorable you are, Ser, if you leave no heirs of your body there will be no one to remember you once you die."

Harrold just smiled. "Does that mean we can expect little dragonknights running around soon, my prince?"

Aegon's smile slid from his face. "I have my niece and nephew," Aegon said. He did not like the direction Harrold was moving the conversation. "Aemon's children deserve my inheritance."

Jon Harte, of all people, spoke up. "You would think differently if you had children of your own." His voice came out in a deep rumble.

"Then, I will have no children," Aegon declared. His blood ran hot at being questioned by his own men. "My duty is to Aemon's memory. He would've done the same if it were me who died in his place." As I should have.

Harrold must have sensed his wroth at being questioned for he pushed the matter no further. "I will take my leave for now, my prince," he said. Aegon watched him till he walked out of the training yard into the covered walkway that surrounded it.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask you to leave as well, Jon," Aegon asked.

"I live to serve, my prince," Jon Harte replied. "It would be remiss of me to leave you unguarded."

"As you will, Jon," Aegon said. He walked out of the training yard and into the covered walkway that surrounded it. Aegon came to a sudden stop just as he was about to bump into someone.

"Daena!"

Aegon saw Daeona look up at him, surprise writ over her face. Her features twisted into a scowl that made her look more beautiful. Aegon took a breath to cool his disposition.

"Aegon." Daeona harrumphed. "We have more important things to do than linger around with you." She gestured at her companions.

"I would love to listen to Prince Aegon and his adventures across the sea." Aegon heard one of Daena's companions say. He looked at her. She was back of hair and black of eye, fair as the maiden and with teats to match. Who was this woman?

"You are too kind my fair lady," Aegon said. "I am ashamed to admit I know not who you are. Would you forgive me for this transgression against one of your exquisite beauty?" he smiled.

The girl blushed. "I am Melissa Bracken, your grace," she said.

"You don't need to refer to him as your grace," Daena interrupted. "He is only my uncle's son." Daena sneered. "Nobody special."

Irritation flashed through Aegon. He took a deep breath to calm his raging thoughts. Aemon would be courtesy and grace. Aemon would be humble. Aegon decided to ignore Daena. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, my lady," he addressed Melissa Blackwood, not looking at Daena.

The blush on her face deepened. Aegon felt a stirring in his loins that he forced himself to suppress. "And I am glad to meet you, Prince Aegon."

"I am not," Daena interjected. Aegon looked at her. Her anger drew him into her eyes, alive with emotion. He wanted to take her into his arms, soothe her anger. Aegon shook his head. "Come Melissa." She dragged the Blackwood girl with her.

Aegon snorted and continued towards his quarters. Let Daena hate him, what did he care? She was no one to him. As beautiful as she was, a corner of his mind whispered, treacherously. His thoughts went back toward Aemon. If he was half the knight that Aemon was, then these thoughts would not even occur to Aegon. He would be better. That was the only thing that drove Aegon forward anymore.

In his path towards his quarters, Aegon had to go into the outer Red Keep and then back into Maegor's holdfast. As he was walking, he saw Lord Benjicot Blackwood opposite him. Perhaps, Lord Blackwood had some business in the training yard. Aegon did not wish to speak with him.

To his eternal consternation, Lord Blackwood raised a hand in greeting and addressed him. "O dragonknight! How goes your day?" he asked.

Irritation washed over Aegon as a wave washes over the shore. Aemon was the perfect knight, not him. Aemon was supposed to be the dragonknight, not him. His emotions must have shown on his face, as Ser Jon Harte nudged him with his elbow. Aegon schooled his face into the ideal of courtesy.

"I am as great as can be expected, my lord," Aegon said. "And how do you fare? Do the matters of the realm give you any rest?"

Lord Blackwood laughed. "The realm never rests and neither do we." He looked around to ensure they weren't being eavesdropped upon. "The king trusts you greatly, prince. You should join us for a meeting of the small council." Benjicot Blackwood placed his arm on Aegon's shoulder, all fatherly and full of sage advice. "You will find your place among us."

Aegon's irritation bled through his carefully maintained facade. "Did you not argue for my uncle to send me to the Wall, my lord?" he asked. Pleasure spiked through him when he saw Lord Blackwood cringe in remembrance.

"You are a greater man now," Blackwood rallied. "One more than worthy of a place in the king's inner circle."

Aegon could not help but laugh. "You mean, a part of the Small Council, my lord?" Aegon asked.

"Of course!" Blackwood said. "If not the Dragonknight, then who? You will be Hand after your father, that I am sure of."

"I am not cut out to be Hand, my lord," Aegon said with a wry twist of his lips. "I have neither the ability nor the inclination." He shrugged. Lord Blackwood seemed to have given up all his wits if he was suggesting that Aegon would make a good Hand of the King. Aemon maybe, but not him. Never him. "I prefer war to peace, my lord."

"Your father did not seem to think that, when the Small Council met last," Lord Blackwood said.

Aegon did not like the direction this conversation was taking, just as he did not like thinking about what his father thought of him. "As fascinating as this has been, Lord Blackwood," he said. "I have an urgent task to take care of."

Without waiting for a response, Aegon brushed past him. He burned with anger. Who did Blackwood think he was, to question Aegon thusly? If it were not for the friendship Ser Oscar bore for this man, Aegon would not have even given the man any time at all.

"He only meant to flatter you, my prince," Ser Jon Harte interrupted the spiral of Aegon's thoughts.

"All the more reason to stay away from him, then," Aegon said. He huffed. " I hate flatterers."

Jon hummed. "I just hope you aren't too quick to judge, my prince. He is Ser Oscar's friend, after all."

"If I require your advice, Jon," Aegon began, vexed with his shield, "I will ask for it."

Jon bowed, chastised, and fell silent. Aegon spent the rest of the trip to his chambers stewing in his thoughts. A headache irritated him now, having dealt with the questions of Harrold, Lord Blackwood, and Jon. To Aegon's consternation, his quarters were not empty. His father waited for him.

"What is it now?" Aegon asked, vexation creeping into his tone.

"Watch your tone, boy," Viserys warned. "Is this how you speak with your lord father?"

"I don't care," Aegon threw into his face. "Punish me then, exile me."

Viserys shook his head. "You are still a child, and always will be."

Aegon curled his hands into fists. He was sorely tempted to swing at his father, or at the least push him out of his rooms. At that exact time, his wife came out from the bedchamber. She must have sensed Aegon's anger, for she put her arm on Aegon's shoulder, rubbing it, calming him.

"Why are you here, father?" Aegon asked.

"There is a missive from Dorne, from the King," Visrerys said.

"Well? Are you going to make me guess?" Aeon asked caustically. "Tell me what Daeron has to say."

"The King," Viserys said, "needs to verify some information and he has need of you."

Aegon puffed up. "That is good, " he said. He would serve Daeron and do Aemon's memory proud. "I do not care what it is, tell me what to do."

Viserys frowned. "It is not so simple, son. The task carries a risk of death."

Aegon scowled. Was his father pushing him on purpose? "Let me be clear father," Aegon said. "I am a loyal subject of the King and I would do anything he ordered me to do." His father seemed unmoved.

I need to twist the dagger, Aegon thought.

"Who are you to question your king?" Aegon asked. "The Hand or a traitor?"

Viserys's face twisted into a rictus of anger. Aegon felt Serenei's hand dig into his shoulder. He shrugged her off. "Leave," he ordered, without even looking at her. "This is not your place."

Aegon felt her nails in his shoulder as she squeezed his arm. She stood for a moment looking at Aegon's face but he had eyes only for his father. Serene left, but not before dragging her nails down his arm. Aegon forced himself to ignore it.

"The Dornish seek to ambush the King in his journey North," Viserys said. "To kill him and then openly rebel while we scramble around in a regency. Daeron seeks to spring this trap."

"So, I would be springing the trap in Daeron's place, then?" A thrill of excitement shot through Aegon. He would be in the thick of it again. It was not without a certain degree of risk, but that mattered little to Aegon.

"The letter did not say." Viserys frowned. "If that is the case, however, then it is not a risk I can allow you to take."

Aegon scoffed. "You are in no position to disallow me anything." He grew wroth at his father's assumption of control. "Unlike you, father," Aegon began, "I do not question my King. He has his own reasons. What else did he say?"

"To put this plan of his into practice, he needs you to arrive at Dorne earlier than expected and under secrecy."

Aegon turned to his shadow. "We leave on the morrow, Jon," he said. "Gather the men." SerJon Harte bowed and left. Aegon turned back towards his father. "Is there anything else?"

"Have you grown daft in your years across the sea boy!" Viserys thundered."Here I am telling you this endeavor of your cousin is of risk to your person and you are even more eager to commit to it."

Aegon had enough, He did not want o to see his father at all, let alone be taught how to protect himself. "I do as I please. What would Aemon have done?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, Aegon continued. "Aemon would've done what his King asked of him and so shall I. Do not feign concern for me, father." Aegon sneered.

Viserys opened his mouth, possibly to say something but he seemed to have thought the better of it. "Do as you will," he ground out and turned on his heel to leave. The letter from Daeron, Viserys put on a table. "Read it."

Aegon felt a stab of guilt pool in his stomach. He made to chase after his father but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked behind him to see his wife.

"Leave him," Serenei said. "Won't you be the governor of Dorne? I will join you there."

Aegon considered his words carefully. He had to be diplomatic here, not as he was with his father. Aegon did not wish to make the same mistakes twice. "You cannot come till I have pacified the region", Aegon said. "I cannot allow you to arrive there when it is highly likely for there to be issues with the Dornish."

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Serenei puffed up in anger. Aegon winced.

"Who are you to tell me what I can do?" Serenei demanded. "I am the daughter of Lys and I will do as I please."

These words drove Aegon into his own anger. He had tried but diplomacy with his wife did not seem to come as easily to him. "You will do as I say, wife. This is not Essos nor is it Lys and neither is it your father's demesne."

Serenei looked ready to burst from anger. Aegon saw her open her mouth and then close it, no doubt reconsidering her words. "We shall see," she said simply, but her eyes betrayed her anger and hatred.

Aegon turned away and left the room. Dornish plots he could deal with. His wife's temper though, was beyond him. He would go visit Naerys. Spending time with the children always calmed him down. As he walked past the table, he picked up the letter from where his father had left it. He would have to see what Daeron actually wanted from him.

—-

A/N: So, here it is, another chapter. We will have one more in King's Landing and then it's back to Dorne. This chapter was Aegon from Aegon's point of view, how he perceives himself. The next chapter will be more important as it shows how is perceived by others. My main goal with this story is to write a flawed character but multi-dimensional character so let me know how that worked out.

Thanks for reading! Did you like it? Hate it? Want to complain? I thrive off of feedback so do let me know.