The sun drifted lower on the horizon, and the small group of riders racing across the grassy field cast long shadows on the ground that danced along beside them. A shock of excitement coursed through Aegon's veins and he swung himself down from his saddle. It'd hardly been an hour since his cousins had set off to scout ahead, and Aegon hoped their swift return boded well. His Uncle Oberyn slid off his own horse and came to stand beside Aegon with a steadying hand on his shoulder. Arianne, Ashara, Jon, Tyene, and Elia waited with them as well, and the small Dornish contingent even further behind.
Obara, Nymeria, and Ser Daemon Sand slowed their horses to a leisurely trot as they drew closer, much to Aegon's irritation. His hand twitched where it rested on the saddle of his horse, and Oberyn shoved him lightly with a gentle reminder to be patient. After several long minutes, the riders came to a stop before the small group, with all but Nymeria dismounting. Nymeria's horse continued to prance in a circle, the sand steed raring to race once more. Had Aegon not been so full of nerves, he might have found humor in the way she twisted in her saddle to keep them in view.
"It's as we thought," Ser Daemon said as he led his horse closer. "They've made camp just ahead." Aegon cheered internally. He'd been afraid that they'd be to late, that Alysanne would launch her assault on Casterly Rock before they could find her. A near thing.
Jon chuckled and came to stand beside Aegon. "It's true then. She means to take the Rock." He snorted in derision. "Perhaps she is mad after all."
Aegon grimaced, but ignored Jon's comment. The argument wasn't worth it, not when he was so close to finding his cousin. He looked beyond, towards the horizon. Somewhere, a days' ride away, they would find Casterly Rock looming over the sea. They'd hoped to intercept Alysanne before she reached Casterly Rock, and they'd followed the rumors heard from smallfolk of an army marching west.
"Were you seen?" Oberyn asked.
"Of course not," Nymeria tossed her head back. Annoyed by her horse's restlessness, she finally dismounted and secured the reins tight in her hands. "Even if we were, we wave no banners. We're farmers, for all they know."
"We should make our own camp here and send an envoy," Jon suggested.
"No," Aegon rushed out. It would take hours to set up camp and send an envoy, and even longer still, to wait for a response. It was nearly night. With that plan, it would be morning before Aegon met his cousin. "I've waited long enough. Raise a peace banner. We ride in now."
Oberyn exchanged a wary glance with Jon. "Perhaps Jon is right, nephew. A contingent of two hundred men is no small matter."
"No, but they outnumber us either way," Aegon reasoned.
At Aegon's first word, Elia had withdrawn to find the peace banner. By the time their brief argument was finished, she'd already returned with it tight in her hands. Aegon smiled at her gratefully.
"Raise it," Aegon ordered, swinging himself into his saddle. He called back to order the men to prepare to march. He looked down at his uncle and Jon, who had slowly mounted their own horses. "She wrote to Dorne for assistance, yes? We've merely arrived early."
Just as Aegon opened his mouth to call a march, Jon stopped him again. "How do you expect to explain who you are? Let Oberyn ride in the front. Pull your hood up, we'll reveal you to your cousin once we have an audience."
Aegon grit his teeth and took a deep breath. How much longer must I wait? He wanted to argue, but at Oberyn and Ashara's pleading looks, he relented. Aegon steered his horse to a place behind Oberyn, Ser Daemon, and his cousins, and Ashara joined him with her own hood pulled high. He let out another long exhale as he saw Ser Daemon take hold of the peace banner from Elia and heard Oberyn call to begin the march.
The march began, and Aegon's disappointment was forgotten as they crested the hill and Alysanne's camp came into view. A great sprawl of tents covered the land in neat rows, and the setting sun reflected in oranges and reds off the plain canvas tents, a welcome banner for the Dornish party. Banners hung throughout the camp, but Aegon could not make out for which house from that distance. Freshly lit cookfires dotted throughout the tents, and the smoke swirled into the air.
His cousin's camp had not been in view long before a group of riders emerged from the rows of tents. Aegon counted ten men with three at the forefront, with what he presumed to be the Stark banner flying proudly above them. His pulse quickened and he bit down a smile, busying his hands with adjusting the hood of his cloak over his head. Oberyn called a halt, and once more Aegon found himself waiting patiently.
The minutes between their halt and the group approach felt like hours. None of the riders appeared to be a woman, and Aegon felt silly for being disappointed. Of course she wouldn't come to greet us. How was she to know they were from Dorne? They flew no banners, they hadn't sent prior word, she'd be a fool to do so. Finally, the riders stopped before them.
The man at the very front of the group of riders had dark hair with a long face, and a closely shaven beard not nearly as unruly as the man who rode to his left who carried the Stark banner. He was slighter than the man to his left as well, who towered over the rest even in his saddle. His beard was longer, giving him an almost wild appearance. Aegon pegged him for a northman, if the descriptions of them given by Ashara had any bearing. To the far right sat an older man, gray-haired and clean shaven, with a craggy and lined face.
The man in the center waited until the riders behind him had settled before speaking. "State your business," he called. Aegon had never heard an accent like his before, but then again, he hadn't been many places in Westeros as yet.
The man regarded them with dark eyes and a sullen frown, awaiting their response. Oberyn edged just slightly forward. "My name is Oberyn Martell. I come on behalf of my brother, Prince Doran. I believe your queen is expecting us."
The man in the center twisted in his saddle to give an order to a boy just behind him, which Aegon could not hear from where he sat. The boy from the group wheeled his horse about and raced back to the camp. "We weren't expecting to meet you until Harrenhal," the man said.
"We heard of your march against Tywin Lannister's lands. We didn't want to miss out on the fun." Aegon didn't need to see his uncle's face to know that he bore a vicious grin to match his words.
The large man on the left said, "You fly no Dornish banners," his accent heavier than the man in the center.
"We thought discretion to be wise," Arianne drawled. "Do forgive us."
Her words caught the attention of the man in the center, who stopped and stared at her a moment before shaking his head. "My name is Jon Stark," he introduced himself. He introduced the large man holding the banner as Jon Umber, and the other man beside him as Ser Brynden Tully.
"Prince Jon, if I'm not mistaken?" Oberyn lilted. "Allow me to introduce you to my niece, Princess Arianne Martell, here on behalf of my brother. These are four of my daughters, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, and Elia. Also with me is my old friend, Griff."
Ashara tensed beside Aegon, the hood of her cloak drawn over her head as well. He frowned and followed her gaze to where she watched Ser Brynden carefully. The old knight himself watched Griff with a furrowed brow, and it occurred to Aegon then that perhaps they knew each other before the rebellion, or at the very least had made each other acquainted. Aegon cursed. Oberyn should have been honest as to who he was. He didn't want to start off by lying to his cousin. And Jon should have waited beside me. He cursed his mentor's stubborn need to be at the forefront of everything.
Prince Jon didn't notice the intensity with which Ser Brynden scrutinized Aegon's Jon. He only nodded at Oberyn's introduction. "Welcome, all of you. Queen Alysanne has been eager to meet you. Lord Jon will help the rest of your men set up camp, if you'll follow me."
Oberyn turned to Ser Daemon and with a quick word, Ser Daemon broke off from the group to follow Jon Umber. Tyene and Elia followed him as well, leaving Obara and Nymeria to continue onward with Jon, Oberyn, Ashara, Arianne, and himself. Aegon remained silent as they rode onwards, listening carefully to the conversation between Prince Jon and Oberyn. Idle chat about their journey thus far, the recent victory at Oxcross, and, to Prince Jon's seeming discomfort, his recent legitimization and appointment as King Robb's Hand.
How close is he to Alysanne? Oberyn had mentioned Ned Stark's bastard grew up amongst his trueborn children. He would have grown up with Alysanne as well, then. Aegon wanted to join the conversation, to ask Jon Stark what Alysanne had been like as a girl, what she was like now.
In a different life, perhaps Aegon would have grown up alongside Alysanne. Maybe they would have played games together in the Red Keep with Rhaenys and his other cousins, and maybe they would have been married. But this is not that life. How many times had Ashara told him to not linger on what could have been? He only had what was.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the way into camp was lit by braziers and torches. The light from the flickering flames danced across the faces of those who'd gathered to watch their entrance. Word of their arrival must have spread quickly, because men and common camp followers crowded the sides of the main thoroughfare and openly gawked at them. Whispers trailed after them as they passed, but Aegon paid them no mind.
Instead, he focused on the banners hung around the camp and tried to place them. He didn't recognize the white sunburst on black from his lessons, but he recognized the Tully banners. He recognized the twin blue towers of House Frey as well, but the black bear on green remained a mystery to him. Above them all hung the Stark banner, the wolf snarling down at him as he passed.
Jon Stark called a halt outside of a larger pavilion and Aegon's breathing quickened once more. The rest of the men sent to greet them had melted away as they traveled through the camp, and it was only Prince Jon and Ser Brynden who remained to proceed with them.
Two guards stood on either side of the pavilion's entrance, and the torches beside them glinted off their armor. They would have been more foreboding had it not been for the woman awaiting their arrival. She smiled politely as they dismounted, her green hair a smear against the beige behind her.
Jon Stark inclined his head towards her, and she stepped forward. "Prince Oberyn, may I introduce you to Lady Wylla Manderly, one of Queen Alysanne's ladies." Lady Wylla smiled flirtatiously at Prince Jon, who, to her amusement, flushed just slightly.
Lady Wylla was quick to redirect her attention to Oberyn. She curtsied and held out her hand, which Oberyn kissed lightly. "A pleasure, Lady Wylla," his uncle said. Oberyn introduced her to Arianne, this time glossing over Jon as well as Ashara and Aegon. Perhaps he noticed Ser Brynden's suspicion.
"Likewise, Prince Oberyn. If you'll follow me?" Wylla surveyed all of them before moving, but paid Aegon and Ashara little attention. At her word, the guards standing at the entrance pulled aside the flaps. Wylla entered first, leading the way with her head held high in pride .
Just as torches and braziers lit the camp, candles lit the tent and fluttered against the growing evening light. A large round table had been pushed against one side, with chairs on the other. Wylla strode down to the far end of the pavilion where a lone chair had been placed, with a small group of three lords and one lady stood off to the side. Aegon's step faltered.
In the chair sat who Aegon could only assume was his cousin. Wylla came to a stop and turned to them with a flourish. "I present to you Alysanne Stark, Queen of the North and the Rivers." Wylla faced back to Alysanne. "Your Grace, Prince Oberyn Martell and Princess Arianne Martell." Jon Stark and Ser Brynden continued past where they'd stopped to assume their places behind Alysanne.
Aegon's heart thundered in his chest, and he wondered briefly if Ashara could hear it from where she stood beside him. He studiedAlysanne eagerly, searching for any shared features. Her hair, pulled back into a long, neat braid glinted more golden-hued in the light where Aegon's was more silver. Her chin was pointed like his, though, and they shared the same high cheekbones. Does she resemble her mother more, or her father? If she resembled her mother, would Rhaegar have looked similar?
Alysanne was quick to stand from her seat. She was shorter than him, Aegon found, yet not as short as Arianne. Aegon guessed she might reach his chin, where Arianne only came to his shoulders. Ashara once told him his grandmother Rhaella had been of shorter stature as well.
Her warm smile reached her eyes, which Aegon noted were green rather than their families purple, when she said, "I didn't believe it when Alyn said the Dornish party had arrived." She nodded to a young boy standing beside Prince Jon, and Aegon recognized him for the rider that had been sent ahead. "Yet here you are."
"We were eager to meet your acquaintance, Queen Alysanne," Oberyn greeted before sweeping into a low bow.
Alysanne chuckled. "Allow me to introduce you to the rest of my advisors." She ran through the names of those gathered to the side. No matter how hard Aegon tried to pay attention to who was which lord, the words swam together until she came to those standing just behind her, whom Aegon had not noticed at first. "One of my other ladies, Jorelle Mormont, as well as my sworn sword Ser Addam Marbrand. And certainly not least of them all, Princess Arya Stark."
The final introduction drew a sharp intake of air from Ashara, and Aegon spared her only a brief glance before his attention flit back to Princess Arya. She was quite beautiful, Aegon was unashamed to admit. Shorter than Alysanne, but Aegon hardly paid any mind to it with the way she held herself. Brown hair had been pulled into a far looser braid than Alysanne wore, and pieces had fallen free to frame her long face. Sharp, gray eyes danced across their party and when she took notice of Aegon, they narrowed. I've been caught, Aegon noted in amusement. His lips turned upwards just slightly, and her attention quickly returned to Alysanne.
Alysanne glided forward, her gray skirts swirling about her feet. The same, light gray that the Stark banners touted. "I do believe I'm at a disadvantage," Alysanne said lightly. "I've yet to be introduced to the rest of your party."
Her attention passed over him, Jon, and Ashara, before ultimately returning to him. She tilted her head with a slight frown pulling at her lips. Oberyn stepped backwards, closer to Aegon. "I admit, your grace, that we did not come all this way just to join in pulling the old lion's tail." Alysanne exhaled in amusement, but continued to watch Aegon.
Oberyn looked over his shoulder, and with a nod from Aegon, continued. He gestured Aegon forward, and he let the hood slip off his head. "May I present to you Aegon of House Targaryen, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."
A stunned silence lay heavy over those present. Alysanne inhaled sharply. "Is your idea of a jape, Prince Oberyn? It is not a well received one, if so." Her eyes were no longer warm, and instead flashed cold, like the murky waters of Braavos he'd once fallen into.
"I would never seek to insult you so," Oberyn assured Alysanne. "And I would never make light of such a matter."
Alysanne scoffed. "This is impossible, Prince Oberyn. You cannot expect me to believe you. His head was smashed against a wall. My own father saw him," her voice wavered. The man she'd introduced as Ser Addam stepped closer to her.
"I myself didn't believe it when he was presented to me just several moons ago. My own brother kept his existence from me. It was Jon Connington and Ashara Dayne who kept him safe." At their mention, they stepped forward and murmurs rippled through those gathered.
"They're both dead." Alysanne's voice was growing more tense. She whipped her head to look at her lords, then back to Jon and Ashara. "How do I know they're who you say they are?"
"I knew I recognized you," Ser Brynden grumbled. He stepped forward beside Alysanne. "Your grace, I admit he looked familiar to me but I couldn't place where I knew him. But now that I've heard the name," he laughed in disbelief. "Jon Connington." He looked at Ashara next. "Ashara Dayne. Forgive me, my lady, I did not recognize you with your hood drawn so far forward."
"That was the intention, Ser Brynden," Ashara smiled.
Alysanne pinned Aegon with her stare and he shifted his feet. "You are certain they are who they say they are, Ser Brynden?"
Ser Brynden looked long and hard at Ashara and Jon once more. "Yes, Your Grace."
The lords and one lady gathered to the side whispered amongst themselves, but Alysanne paid them no mind.
"I would like to speak to Prince Oberyn and… Aegon alone." Her lords were quick to obey, and Alysanne sharply spun to Prince Jon. "Jon, see that Princess Arianne, Lord Connington, and Lady Ashara are settled."
The lords and ladies behind Alysanne protested, but silenced with a stern look. They filed from the tent and she looked at Aegon inquisitively. He didn't hesitate to nod, turning to his own advisors. Arianne started to protest, but with a stern word from Ashara, she nodded. They turned to Jon Stark expectantly.
"Alys," Jon Stark pleaded lowly. A silent argument passed between the two before he sighed and escorted Arianne, Jon, and Ashara from the tent.
Ser Addam hovered, and Alysanne spoke to him quietly before he too left. "You may stay, Arya," she said over her shoulder. Arya's eyes were on him once more. Instead of the sharp scrutiny from earlier, they were merely curious, warm ash rather than unforgiving slate.
Oberyn hardly waited for the tent flap to settle before continuing his argument. "He has the shape of Elia's eyes, Elia's nose. He is my sister's son," he said vehemently.
While Alysanne's face had thawed marginally, suspicion still filled her expression. "And what of my cousin Rhaenys? Am I to believe she wasn't worth saving?"
Oberyn's body coiled and his tone turned dangerous. "I would have killed a thousand men to spare her from her fate. I would die a thousand deaths."
Aegon placed a warning hand on his uncle's shoulder and eased him back. "There was a plan to save my sister. It was… unsuccessful," Aegon said.
Alysanne tensed slightly at the sound of his voice. "You understand how absurd this all sounds? You say you're my cousin Aegon, and I'm meant to just take your word?"
"I have an egg," Aegon blurted out. "A dragon egg. Jon says it feels as cold as stone to him, but it feels warm and alive to me. I suspect you'll be able to feel it as well." It was Aegon's only theory as to why it felt so dead to Jon and Ashara and the rest. That, or I've truly gone mad.
Alysanne abruptly turned and grasped Arya by her arm, whispering furiously in her ear. Arya dashed out of the tent and Alysanne stared at him, opening her mouth as though to speak before closing it once more. She let the silence stretch on, broken only by Oberyn clearing his throat and shuffling his feet. A few moments later, Arya burst back in with a bundle of fabric clutched tightly to her chest. Arya passed it to Alysanne, who shifted her gaze uneasily between Aegon and Oberyn before seeming to decide.
She carefully unwound the fabric to reveal her own dragon egg. Aegon's breath caught and he moved closer. Hers was a pearlescent white, with rivers of amethyst purple shining like fires in the candlelight. Aegon heard his uncle cursing under his breath.
"Uncle, go fetch mine," he asked. With a long look at the egg in Alysanne's arms, Oberyn hurried to do just that.
"May I?" Aegon asked. Alysanne hesitated, then nodded, holding her egg out to him.
It felt alive in his hands, just as he thought it would. Aegon let out a shaky breath, relieved that he wasn't mad after all. It was warm like his, with something inexplicable flowing beneath the surface.
He stared at it in silence until Oberyn returned, his own egg bundled similarly. He nodded towards Alysanne and Oberyn handed it to her, letting the cloak he'd shrouded it in fall to the dirt. The gold of his dragon egg reflected brightly in the tent, and from Alysanne's soft gasp, Aegon knew she could feel the life beneath her fingertips as well.
Alysanne moved to put the egg carefully on the table to the side, and Aegon followed suit. Once she'd ensured it would not roll off, she faced Aegon once more. Her eyes had softened and had even begun to water.
"This is—" she let out a light, breathy laugh. "Robb will never believe this," she said, more to herself than Aegon.
"Will he be meeting you here, then?" Aegon was eager to meet the son of the man who led the rebellion against his father. Though, perhaps for different reasons than Jon. Robb Stark was not his father, just as Aegon wasn't his.
"No," Alysanne shook her head. "When I'm done here, we'll rejoin forces. Though when I write to him and inform him my cousin has come back from the dead, he may think I've gone mad and ride here himself," she laughed again.
Aegon laughed with her and relief set into his bones. She believes me. Quite foolishly, it had never truly crossed Aegon's mind that she wouldn't until she questioned Oberyn so vehemently. He'd never thought to have to prove himself to his cousin, only other lords and ladies. I let my eagerness cloud my judgment.
Alysanne's laughter trailed off, her face open and earnest. She stepped forward and embraced him. It shocked Aegon, and it took a moment for him to remember himself and return her embrace. Alysanne stepped back after a moment and dabbed at the back of her eyes with her sleeve.
"Welcome home, cousin," she intoned. She looked over his shoulder at Oberyn. "This is why Prince Doran agreed to send an envoy, then?"
Oberyn moved from where he'd stepped aside to give them some semblance of privacy. "It is. My brother sends myself and his daughter to represent Dorne in negotiating an agreement between Robb Stark and the King."
Aegon did not miss Oberyn referring to him as the King, and neither did Alysanne if her stiffened posture was anything to go by. Aegon gave his uncle a warning glance. Aegon had no desire to have that conversation yet, not when he'd only just met the last family remaining to him on his fathers side. There would be time for that yet.
Movement from behind Alysanne drew Aegon's attention. He'd quite forgotten about her. "Princess Arya, yes?" Aegon couldn't help but stare. She wore a darker dress than Alysanne, but as she walked, Aegon could see trousers underneath. His lips twitched upward.
"Yes!" Alysanne waved Arya forward. "Aegon, this is my good-sister, Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell," she introduced proudly.
Arya scowled up at Alysanne. "Did you have to introduce me that way?" She asked with a displeased twist of her mouth. "We're not in front of everyone anymore."
"You're lucky I didn't make it longer," Alysanne snickered. "I'm the Queen, I can give you whichever titles I wish. Perhaps I'll invent some just for you. Princess Arya Stark, the She-Wolf of Winterfell, High Advisor to the Queen, Lady of-"
A light shove from Arya interrupted Alysanne, along with a demand to "shut it and quit being stupid." Aegon raised a brow, but Alysanne only laughed at Arya. Aegon himself chuckled when Arya snorted, and it seemed to remind her of his presence. She tilted her chin high in a challenge, to what Aegon did not know. "Just call me Arya."
"As long as you call me Aegon," he said. He flashed a grin, and Arya's eyes returned to their narrow suspicion.
"You would get along well with my daughter, Elia. She too wears trousers under her skirts," Oberyn joined the conversation. "No doubt she's already causing trouble in camp. "
Arya flushed and readjusted her dress. "I look forward to meeting her, Prince Oberyn."
"Just Oberyn is fine, if we're fighting so furiously against titles." Alysanne laughed, and even Arya could not help but chuckle despite her deepened flush.
"Ser Addam!" Alysanne shouted, startling the three of them. The tall, red-haired man burst into the tent, something which caused Alysanne to giggle. "Peace. Come meet my cousin."
Ser Addam scowled at having been summoned so urgently, but a quiet intrigue once he spied the golden and red dragon egg perched on the wooden table replaced it. When he looked at Aegon it wasn't with the stern frown he'd worn earlier, but neither was he warm. The red-haired man only marginally relaxed once he assumed a spot just behind Alysanne."
"Ser Addam, this is my cousin Aegon," Alysanne beamed up at him. She addressed Aegon again next. "Ser Addam has been my sworn shield since I first left for Winterfell as a girl. He's my most trusted advisor and closest friend." Ser Addam's face warmed at the introduction, yet his greeting to Aegon was short.
"I was wondering what a Lannister bannerman was doing amongst an invading Stark army," Oberyn taunted.
Ser Addam's eyes hardened to flints of steel. "Prince Oberyn. A pleasure to see you again."
Oberyn smiled tauntingly, and Aegon nearly rolled his eyes. "Last I saw of you was at Casterly Rock, trailing after Jaime Lannister like a lost pup."
Ser Addam grimaced, and Alysanne looked between the two curiously. "You've met?" She asked.
"Once, long ago, when my mother traveled to Casterly Rock to arrange a betrothal between your father and my sister," Oberyn explained. He smiled indulgently at Alysanne. "Obviously it did not come to pass."
An uncomfortable silence filled the air, and Aegon found his attention wandering to Arya once again. She herself was preoccupied with the dragon eggs which sat on the table, more specifically, his.
She did not touch it, and just as Aegon made to extend the offer to her, Alysanne spoke. "Come, Aegon. You must meet the rest of my family, or at the very least, those who are with me."
Alysanne wrapped her arm around his and led him from the tent, only pausing to ask Arya to return the eggs to where they belonged. Ser Addam was quick to follow close behind. If Aegon did not already know he was there, he may never have noticed. The man trailed after his cousin as silent as a wisp of smoke.
Aegon craned his neck in search for Oberyn, who remained outside the entrance to the pavilion, watching as they walked away. Oberyn caught his eye and waved, before turning to Arya as she emerged with the dragon eggs bundled in her arms. She passed Aegons to Oberyn, and they continued on their own path. A part of Aegon was disappointed Arya had remained behind.
They walked for a few minutes before coming upon Jon Stark, who spared Aegon a smile that really resembled a grimace. He shifted his eyes away from Aegon.
"Aegon, I believe you've already met my good-brother Jon," Alysanne said.
Jon said nothing to Aegon. "He's who he says he is then?" Jon addressed Alysanne.
"He is," Alysanne affirmed. Jon showed no reaction, save for a sidelong glance at Aegon.
Alysanne withdrew herself from Aegon's arm and shuffled closer to Jon. She lowered her voice to where Aegon could barely hear. "He has an egg, Jon. Like mine, like—" she paused once more to make certain no one was listening. "The letter mentioned three."
Aegon furrowed his brow. Letter? There hadn't been a letter with his egg. Had there been with hers? And was it from her mother, or Rhaegar? Aegon debated asking, demanding to know more about the letter, but thought better of it.
"I assume you intend to join our march against Casterly Rock?" She asked. Both she and Jon looked at him expectantly.
"Yes," Aegon answered. "If it's no trouble."
"Good. I'll make the arrangements." Jon lightly touched Alysanne's shoulder before moving away. "If you'll excuse me."
Alysanne called after Jon, but he did not stop. She pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head. "You'll have to excuse him, Aegon. He is not usually so…" She shook her head again, and her eyebrows flew upwards when she spotted something behind him. "Arya!" She called.
Aegon turned around to find Arya stopped in her tracks, looking displeased that she'd been caught. She walked over to Alysanne reluctantly. "I was hoping to catch Jon," she insisted.
"He's gone to ensure the men are ready for the march tomorrow. I have to speak with the lords and Lady Mormont before I turn in," Alysanne looked at Aegon, and then pleadingly at Arya. "Perhaps you could show Aegon where his tent is? It should be near mine."
Before Arya could protest, Alysanne had bid Aegon a "goodnight," and a "please join me to break your fast tomorrow," before waltzing away back towards the pavilion.
Without saying another word, Arya set off. Aegon rushed to catch up with her as they wove in and out of tents. He tried to keep track of where they turned, but he found himself distracted by the woman beside him.
The silence between them as they walked was uncomfortable, and Aegon eyed her warily. He noted the thin sword strapped to her waist, which had not been there earlier. "That's an interesting sword," he said. That's the best you can manage?
She eyed him with her usual suspicion. "Its name is Needle. My brother Jon gave it to me."
"You know how to use it?" Aegon asked. Ashara had always told him it was unusual for Westerosi ladies to know how to use a sword, except perhaps in Dorne.
"Of course I know how to use it," Arya defended with a scowl.
"Then you'll spar with me," Aegon decided, struggling to save the conversation. He wasn't judging her, he was merely curious. It upset him to think he'd already offended her. "It gets rather boring, sparring with my cousins day in and day out."
"What if I don't want to spar with you?" Arya bristled. Hells. Now she thinks I'm ordering her about.
Aegon smiled slightly and shrugged. "Then you don't have to." They came to a stop in front of a tent with the banner of House Martell and, to his surprise, House Targaryen. Arianne's work, surely.
No longer scowling, Arya had returned to her previous suspicion. "Well, perhaps I want to." She peered at him a moment longer before giving a hurried "goodnight," and then she was gone.
Aegon stared after her a moment longer before deciding he must look foolish, standing outside of his tent like that. He ducked into the large tent and was unsurprised to find Jon sitting on his cot and waiting for him.
The tent was modest, but still larger than the one he had been using. They had placed a cot at the far end, and a small table and two chairs sat to the left of the entrance. Opposite the table and chairs was a large chest which Aegon recognized to be his own, and just as in the pavilion, a candle sat on the small table and illuminated the tent. Oberyn must have already stopped by, for his dragon egg sat atop it, still carefully wrapped. In the corner beside his bed, a dressing screen had been propped up.
"It went well, then?" Jon questioned. He observed Aegon carefully, and it was then Aegon noted the neatly wrapped, long package that lay beside him.
"Very well," Aegon grinned. "It was the dragon egg which convinced her." Aegon carefully set the egg on the ground and opened the chest. He sifted through his belongings in search of a clean shift. "Prince Jon is making arrangements for our men to join the march on the morrow, and I myself have made arrangements to spar with Princess Arya," he said cheerily.
Jon hummed. "She looks like Lyanna."
Aegon stood from where he was hunched over the chest. "Who?" Jon hardly ever spoke of Lyanna Stark, and rarely by name. It was always "the Stark girl."
"Princess Arya. She looks like Lyanna Stark. I thought I was seeing a ghost, for a moment." Jon watched Aegon with a solemn mien. "Did you speak on the matter of the North's open rebellion at all?"
Aegon groaned. "No, Jon. I did not think it wise to broach such a serious matter so soon." He resumed his search for a clean shift and, upon finding one, stepped behind his dressing screen to change.
He expected further argument from Jon but was met only with a heavy sigh. "I have something for you," Jon said in lieu of pressing the previous matter. He waited to continue until Aegon had emerged and taken a place beside him on the cot. "I had hoped to wait until you'd been crowned or wed, whichever came first."
He passed the package to Aegon, who eagerly unwrapped it. Not for the first time that night, Aegon struggled to find the right words. He held the sword aloft, and valyrian steel gleamed. "Blackfyre," Aegon breathed. "Where did you find it?"
"The Golden Company was in possession of it until just a few years ago. When Illyrio met with them to secure the alliance he brought it back." Jon held his hand out for the sword, and Aegon passed it over. Jon ran a finger lightly over the edge, as though testing the sharpness. He returned it to Aegon. "It belongs to you. Treat it well, and may it protect you where I can't."
Jon rose then, and with a firm clap to Aegon's shoulder, left to find his own tent. Aegon admired it in the candlelight for a moment more before heading over to the chest. He opened it and picked his dragon egg up from where he'd set it on the ground and returned it safely to where it belonged. He placed Blackfyre beside it.
It did not remain in the chest long. He strapped it to his side when he dressed the next morning, and wore it proudly as he waltzed through the camp to join his cousin to break his fast. A morning meal which did not last long, as Alysanne was eager to begin the march.
Before the sun had reached its midpoint in the sky, the march had begun. Aegon's own men, which he could now openly claim as his, weaved in with Alysanne's. Their joined army trailed behind them like a serpent, coiled and ready to strike. Aegon rode at the front by his cousin's side and, within the day, Casterly Rock came into sight.
A/N: I decided to drop this chapter early as a celebration for reaching 700 kudos on ao3, but I wanted to take the time to thank you all for reading as well. I read every single comment, and they truly do mean the world to me. I've had such a blast writing this and I never thought that so many people would read it. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.