Aegor IV

Aegor knew it was Brynden Rivers, his Blackwood half-brother, the moment he saw him.

Since the Blackwood's made their triumphant entrance to the capital, which baffled Aegor, for his House's successful delivery of the king's son met no welcome, yet in their defeat, the small folk praised the Blackwood's arrival after their House allowed them to nearly be killed under their protection,

Oh, how brave of them to not die. Yip Yip Hoorah!

all Aegor heard about was the boy hero of the road.

Worst of all, the boy they lauded, his freak half-brother Brynden, still hid away in his room, brooding in his pale misery of how awesome it was to have everyone in the realm already love you and praise your mere presence, or even his absence, as the boy hadn't been seen in earnest since his arrival.

All that made him seem ever more heroic. "Oh, the poor lad," one of the servants started saying once. "The horrors he's seen must have hurt his poor little heart so badly he cannot even leave his chambers."

It sounded like weakness to Aegor. Horrors? Shit, 'tis my dream to meet some lowly brigand on the road foolish enough to test me. I'd be the Hero of the Road if it wasn't for stupid Itwick Moss' rush to get to the capital.

As he heard himself bluster in his head, Aegor felt embarrassed. The cute serving girl had already scolded him for his jealousy. She said it was ill-worn on a prince, or something like that, and Aegor had tried to take it to heart.

He wanted the realm to love him. No one would love a bitter sore sport.

But as the ghost of a boy floated into the barracks for his padding and gear, Aegor understood why the boy chose to stay inside. The more they speak of him without seeing him, the less likely they'll see him for the abomination he is when their eyes are punished with the sight of him.

Aegor remained quiet, as the boy paid him no mind, off, it seemed, in a distant world. Aegor thought for the briefest of moments, that it reminded him of when he'd wander off in a day dream, but he shook the whimsy from his face and hardened his expression.

Ready for the charge.

Ser Swann had finally promoted Aegor to using the wooden practice sword, so Aegor was excited for the day's training. The new year ahead of him would be the best of his young life, he knew, and today was the first day to prove it.

He had gotten much stronger with all the training he and Swann did, both in and out of the yard. He even followed the White Knight to the sept to learn more of the seven and their ways. Brackens kept faithful to the seven who are one, and unlike his heathen sibling that worshipped trees and wind, there was much to learn that Septons refused to even broach with him, though Septons were a sore spot in lieu of recent events.

"Nonsense," Swann exclaimed when Aegor had denounced the seven during a frustrating training one day. "You've good reason to keep scorn in your heart against the men who preach their word, but the seven faces of god have never led you astray in their message, just their messenger. Which, if it wasn't for the strength of the warrior within you, would have been far worse."

My strength and the blade of my father, Aegor thought in the moment.

But Swann had become more than just a man that trained him at arms. For whatever reason, the boring bloke took it upon himself to educate Aegor in what it meant to be a knight.

Aegor had finally found warmth.

And now, the hero of the road would distract Swann from him.

Swann stood before the two boys as if to formally introduce them before training.

"Master Brynden, this is your half-brother, Aegor."

"Well met, Brother," the white boy replied, his red eyes glazed in some gross bloodshot mess of a stare.

"Bugger off, creep," Aegor shot back.

He felt bad when he saw his half-brother's slim smile sink into a sulk, but he forced himself to steel his resolve. The yard was not meant for kinship. It was training for battle. Brynden was already a hero. Aegor would forge himself into one here.

There was no room for soft things like pity and kindness.

Especially not for a Blackwood.

"Today, visiting members of the noble houses in attendance from last night will have use of the grounds as well. Keep in mind their space as to avoid any accidental encounters with the squires and young knights armed with steel," Ser Swann instructed.

Aegor looked across the yard to see his competition. They were nothing. Nobodies. Just young men with nothing more than a few years on him. I'll be like Daemon, Aegor thought to himself, I'll be knighted at 12.

Out of the side of his vision, he noticed his brother acting strange. Aegor turned to look at him, and the blood shot red eyes were now all white, rolled to the back of his head like he was having an episode, like ones Aegor had seen his mother have from too much milk of the poppy.

At first, Aegor did not know what to do, as no one else had noticed. Ser Swann had left to inform the visitors their limits, and Aegor had never seen his mother able to remain standing mid episode.

"There's something wrong with the freak!" Aegor cried, hoping the problem to be someone else's.

"Master Aegor!" Swann scolded from across the yard. "Show your brother some respect and decency. He's naught done a thing to you. You need not and must not treat him with contempt or scorn, especially for the misfortune of his appearance," the White Knight sermonized as he ran over.

"Good gods," the man uttered as he reached them. "When did this start?"

"I don't know? After you left," Aegor tried to explain, the both of them startled from the grotesque nature of the way the boy looked.

"Are you all right, Master Brynden?" Swann asked him, shaking the boy by the arm. "Say something, lad. What in the hells is this?" Swann turned and yelled to the gallery, "Fetch a maester. Not the cripple. He'll take too long."

Aegor stepped away as Swann took the boy in his arms. His body remained stiff, as if frozen in time, and his eyes remained open, white, and rolled back, even after the knight picked him up and onto his shoulder, a blank expression eerily stuck on his face, and the pale skin and red mark of his face all the more horrific when in the state or episode he was in. As Aegor stepped away, he heard the boys and young men training across the yard from them starting to notice, gasping, laughing, and jesting all in a muffled array of juvenile mischievous humor.

One boy stood out. A late arrival, as Aegor hadn't seen this one when he'd first looked them over, stood a head and a half taller than the rest of them, broad and bulky, like Aegor hoped to be. The boy stood taller than even the King, grinning as he began to chop at the practice dummy in front of him. The strikes could be heard from across the yard, and he refused to stop, even as the commotion of his brother's episode and its response from the lookers-on built into the event it seemed to be.

Aegor studied his movements, wishing to be just like the brute squire one day. There was a savage nature to his form, and he held nothing back, even against the chipping wooden pegs of the dummy.

But then, from the sky, a black streak of feathers buzzed by him. A faint spurt of red burst out from the side of his face, and the behemoth shrieked, caught totally off-guard by the random attack from the bird.

"What in the hells!" Swann screamed, seeing it as Aegor did, and rushing over to the other side of the yard with Brynden still on his shoulder. "Is that a fucking bird!"

Ser Swann never used foul language in front of Aegor before. He was proper in every way a knight should be.

But it was a fucking bird, and as the white knight ran over to assess the damage from the first pass, the black raven swooped in again.

"By the father, mother, and crone, what in the hells is going on!"

The rest of the trainees scattered, as the tall one fell to the yard floor in a ball, covering his face from the further attacks that kept coming. The bird swooped in four separate times before anyone even realized where the bird had come from in the first place, and as everyone but Swann fled for their own safety. Aegor felt compelled to rush over to help the pinned down young man the best he could.

He did have a sword, finally.

Aegor sprinted, charging full on towards the tall knight in training. The bird peppered the fallen boy's hands with pecks, as it took passes, swooping down at near blinding speed, and tearing thin slices into the skin of the young man's arms. Realizing the he could do little with the boy on his shoulders, Swann changed his course, looking for a secure place to drop his freak brother before aiding the tall boy.

Aegor was the only one left on the yard floor. It would have to be him, then.

As he ran, Aegor recognized the bird's pattern, seeing each pass from far enough to keep his eyes on it as he drew closer.

Within a few steps of the boy, he saw the bird finish another pass. Aegor kept his sights on the black thing as it swooped back up onto an overlooking railing to perch, only to dive back down again.

Aegor raised his sword, timed his strike, planted his foot, and swung.

The wooden practice sword stung his grip as it connected with full force to the streaking assailant, stopping it in a flurry of bursting feathers, and sending the thing crashing down hard to the yard floor. It twitched beneath him as it fell, flat on its back, its wings open, and its head bent awkwardly to the wrong side.

Brynden awoke with a ghoulish gasp, petrified of the horror he'd missed, flailing for life, it seemed, off of Swann's armored shoulder.

After a pause, and a brief thick silence, the tall boy rose meekly from the floor, and everyone that had witnessed whatever that just was began in a half-hearted applause for the victorious Aegor.

The tall boy brushed off the dirt from his tunic and the seat of his breeches, and scowled at the boy that came to his aid. "I was moments away from doing that myself," he growled.

Aegor was speechless. But I meant only to help.

He could not understand why his reward would be contempt. His heart sunk, hoping for a hero's praise, and getting only the cold adulation from the few that saw, and the icy reply from the boy he'd rushed to.

"Well hit, Aegor. Your stance has improved leaps and bounds since first you swung at me."

"Thank you, Ser Swann," the boy replied in a defeated tone.

"Now, to commence the training."

Not even a moment after, the maester had finally arrived to see to Brynden, who began crying after waking. Some hero he is.

Aegor was the only one who wanted to continue. All the others took the raven as a sign. But in his mind, there was no valid reason to ever skip a session in the yard. Aegor had not a day to waste if he wanted to catch Daemon.

"Very well, then," Swann agreed, smiling as wide as he could while trying to hide his glee. "I suppose it will be just the two of us."

Good.

After the training, Aegor was spent, as he always was. Ser Swann drilled him relentlessly, and many times, would push the boy until he'd heave up his stomach.

"There is one more knightly thing we must do before your lessons have concluded for the day, Master Aegor. Disrobe. Present your spoiled linens in their proper containers for the washer women, and meet me back at my station near the portcullis when you are ready. You did well today, lad. Both in the crisis, and in the training. You should be very proud."

It was a welcome change to hear praise where Aegor could only ever remember chastisement. He was glad Ser Ball was in the Riverlands. Ser Swann could have been the best teacher in all the known world. And unlike others that had tried to teach him recently, there was never an indecent thing about his behavior. Not even for a moment.

"What more are we to do today, Ser Swann?" Aegor asked as soon as he arrived to the Kingsguard's post.

"If it isn't Master Aegor," a voice said. At first, he couldn't recognize the voice, but as the man in gold standing with Swann turned, Aegor saw the man's red hair and knew immediately. It was Willem Wylde.

"Ser Willem," Aegor replied.

"Not ser, yet," Wylde corrected. "But maybe soon." The goldcloak turned to the White Knight. "I'll report to the men. Let me know if there's anything else."

"Aye," Ser Swann said, and nodded. "Now, for you," he continued, turning to Aegor. "Swear not to grumble or pout."

Whenever Swann made him swear, Aegor knew he wouldn't enjoy what they were about to do.

"He is your kin, and will likely be with you here for years. There is no reason to hold any animosity towards the boy. He's done nothing to earn your ire or contempt, and as someone who would take the vows of knighthood, you must learn not to hold grudges against those of rival houses. Rivalries shift as the course of the wind, and a name is no more than a label."

"The Brackens and Blackwoods have been enemies since the dawn of time," Aegor retorted.

"Never before had the two houses ever shared blood. We are walking to your brother's quarters."

"Half."

"Half is more than most. He's no Blackwood lord of lore. He's not taken up arms against your house. He's but a boy, as you are. And you share the blood of the dragon. You awake daily in the halls of the Red Keep. You can be a petulant brat or a knight. I leave the decision to you."

Aegor hated when Swann was right. He hated more how he didn't just control the bastard in him and obey Swann in the first place before making him cross.

The boy conceded to his mentor, "I'm sorry, Ser Swann. I swear not to grumble or pout any further."

"I thank you, boy. I understand how this could seem difficult," Swann said. There was a calming sincerity in his plain face. "And mayhaps the boy is a right tosser, and you can live on content in knowing you gave a kinship with him an honest go of it," he said, gently gripping Aegor's shoulder to stop their progress down the hall, and lowering down to Aegor's level, looking the boy caringly in his dark violet eyes. "But no more of this 'freak' nonsense. You don't like it when people call you harsh names, do you?"

Aegor could hear bastard ring in the back of his head.

"No."

"Then be knightly, and show kindness where others show malice. For those who treat the different and the low with contempt, usually do so out of fear. You're not afraid, are you?"

"No, Ser."

"Good. We're nearly there. If you open your mind to potentially enjoying the boy's company, mayhaps you'll find a friend where once you thought was a foe."

Aegor hoped the boy was a right tosser. Though he'd obey his mentor, he still didn't like making nice with a Blackwood.

When they'd reached their destination, Swann led through the door. Aegor followed behind him like a tail. The boy was nervous. It would be more difficult to attempt creating a bond with Brynden than it would to just out right despise him from the start.

What if he doesn't like me?

When they reached a point in the room they could see him, they found Brynden resting with the crippled maester at his bedside.

"I thought the other one was to see to the boy?" Swann asked the cripple.

"I fear he's far beyond his depth in treating a case such as this?" the maester responded smugly.

"And what makes you qualified to make that call?"

"These," the maester said, fumbling through his chain. "This link in particular. The link for the study of the afflictions of the mind and their manifestations. I'd say that qualifies me at least more than the other choice in question."

"Very well," Swann stated, as if he was the arbiter of all decisions within his purview. "The boy's brother and I have come to see how young Brynden fares."

"I fare well, Ser," Brynden replied.

Brynden seemed to have settled the matter. They all just paused a moment, unsure of what further business was left.

"Maester," Swann broke in, if only to regain control. "Have you knowledge of this affliction and how its treated or best prevented for further sessions in the yard?"

"Somewhat so, yes," the maester answered almost as if he was asking another question.

"Good. You and I will confer and prepare ourselves for the contingency of further episodes, and Aegor will entertain the boy in your absence."

"Very well," the crippled maester agreed, soundly faintly as if he was trying to mimic the official tone of the white knight. "Allow me some time to get down. My faculties aren't that of an esteemed knight of the realm."

The cripple was humorous. From his manner of speaking, to the way he hobbled. Aegor couldn't help but find him funny. It was difficult not to laugh in his presence. Not out of contempt, but of pure childish humor. It wouldn't be knightly to do so, however, so Aegor kept vigilant to his calling, and refused to succumb to the immature whims of his imagination.

"How do you fare, brother?" Aegor asked, trying to emulate Swann.

"The knight already asked. I fare well."

"Good," Aegor agreed. Maybe he does hate me.

The Bracken boy did not know what to say. He just stood there, contemplating nervously, and finding his thoughts to be more confusing in his effort to seem kind, than how natural it felt just spewing disdain and insults.

"Thank you," Brynden said finally.

"For what?"

"For getting the knight when I went under."

"But I called you freak?" Aegor said, speaking without thinking.

"I am one."

The boy's face remained even as he stated it. For a boy so young, he spoke like he was older. It might have been that his skin was so pale and his hair so white, but he looked to be a little old man with no wrinkles. He spoke as if he was too.

"Sorry," Aegor said, feeling ashamed.

"For what?" Brynden asked.

"Being unkind."

"I suppose it is natural for anyone to respond to their first impression of me with unkindness. They all say it, even if their words don't. At least you the honesty to speak plainly. It doesn't hurt less, but at least it feels truthful."

"I suppose that's why I have no one I call a friend," Aegor admitted, hoping it would deflect that hurt by shifting the negative to himself.

"Friends seem a thing too highly regarded," Brynden said smiling.

"I know, right?" Aegor replied, starting to feel more comfortable, "wanting to talk to you, and spend time with you, suggest things to do together, and have opinions and feelings they want to share and say all the time. Friends seem like shit."

"You want to not have friends together?"

"Unless that makes us friends," Aegor replied in jest. "If not having friends is the point, we can't be hypocrites and become friends ourselves."

"Aye. Not friend."

"Aye," Aegor agreed. He laughed. "And besides, what Bracken could ever be friends with a Blackwood?"

Oh no. I've become too comfortable. Now I'm just spouting out anything I think amusing from my mouth. The damn bastard spilling out and ruining everything as it always does.

"Not friends, no," the little old man said, plainly. "But we're already brothers, anyway. That's all we need to be. And technically, I'm no more a Blackwood than you are a Bracken. We've not those names attached to us. We're Rivers, the both of us. A name we share."

"Brothers and sons of the King."

"Indeed."

Brynden wasn't all that bad. He was awkward and so smart he seemed pretentious, but he was amusing in a way middle-aged men were, poking fun at wording and using the subtle changes in his tone to make even the mundane seem like a jest. Aegor grew a liking for the boy almost instantly. His appearance would startle even the bravest and most accepting of men, but his character seemed good. Swann said to judge him so. To Aegor, he seemed to pass.

They spoke at length, without filter or malice, just being themselves, and each seemed to accept the other innately. They must have been more Targaryen than anything else, and it was the most surprising good time of Aegor's young life.

"We must let the boy rest, now," Swann came in to say, after hearing the boys chuckle so deeply, Brynden began to cough like he had caught a fever.

"Is there another time I can come to visit?" Aegor asked.

"When the maester says its fine to." Swann allowed.

"He's not sick, just fighting the exhaustion still lingering from the road. Some time laughing with a brother seems a remedy good enough for any ill. Just fetch for me if the boy ever returns to a state like that without warning. I believe he will be more able to control himself moving forward," the maester said, subtly turning to Brynden as he said it, "but none the less, if spending time with him is your goal, this is a situation you must be prepared for."

"I guess I'll see you soon, then, brother." It was weird to say it. Aegor never felt like he truly ever had a brother before entering that room.

"It's satisfying to have one, isn't it?" Brynden asked, almost as if he'd read Aegor's mind.

"Aye. Just don't go and get any friends on me, now. It would go against our agreement."

"Look at me. Does it look like I'm on the precipice of making any?"

A/N

Okay, hear me out. I know Aegor and Brynden should hate each other. They will. Let's just say it starts from a different place than hatred to get to hatred. Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear from you in the comments