All This Time, I Just Wanted A Happy Ending
119 AC - Period of King Viserys Targaryen.
"Egg- Aegon," A firm shake of his shoulders woke Draco - no, Aegon, from his midday nap. He raised his head slowly and lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the scorching sun. Kneeling beside him were Helaena and Aemond, their nearly identically violet eyes filled with matching impatience.
He shouldn't be surprised they found him. Amidst the elm, alder, and black cottonwood, Aegon had found his place where he could hide when he wanted to be alone. Yet Helaena always seemed to have no intention of giving him more than a few hours of peace. And where Helaena went, Aemond followed.
For a boy, who gained a reputation for his wilfulness and hot temper at the Red Keep, his little brother had always been good at offering comfort and lending an ear or shoulder when in need. Draco forgot the number of times he had sought the company of a boy three years younger than him if only to rest in his chambers as he read aloud one of the books in High Valyrian.
It was almost as if he was back in his mother, Narcissa Malfoy's arms once again - listening to her sing one of those French lullabies he no longer remembered the lyrics of but knew had always managed to calm him down when he was younger.
He looked up drowsily through his eyelashes, "What is it?" he asked in the common tongue, a language the former wizard had no choice but to learn just like every other child in the new world he had been born into - well, not necessarily every other child since the rest of Westeroes had their own languages, just as how the Targaryens - his new family had High Valarian.
"Helaena wanted to show you something," Aemond explains, giving their soft-spoken sister the courage to lean forward and show the purple insect she's been guarding between the cups of her hands.
Aegon leans forward to see the insect, large as bees, gross, purplish, and glistening. Draco, who had spent years working on potions using snake tongues, spider venoms, beetle eyes, and sliced caterpillars, had no such disgust over his little sister's habits as everyone else in the court. In fact, he encouraged her to collect as many rare species as she could in hopes of using them in preparing a couple of potions later when they die.
Another strange thing in the universe, aside from the Dragonriders and lack of magical communities, was that the magic was strange here - wild, raw, and unrestrained. It is not always stagnant, either. At some places, like the Godswood he was in, it was leaking outwards, ever-increasing in intensity, like a beacon if one were to sing to its tune. And in the Sept where his mother prayed daily - it would be spiralling within the wards surrounding it. But just not in the way it does at the Goodwood.
Their poweress is unquestionable in both places, yet it is different and even harder to explain to the people blind to its existence and strongly believe magic and other dark arts are secrets that should be left buried and those who practice such things are frowned upon and believed to be struck down by the gods wroth.
But, really, though, what should he expect from muggles? It was a blessing he was born to a family who believed in and practised these arts, at least according to the Maeters they did. His mother's family, on the other hand, who were of the Faith of the Seven, would definitely throw him from the highest tower of the Red Keep if he were to show any inclination towards magic and is seen to use a cauldron or ask for pickled slugs and fillet of a fenny snake.
Hence, the secrecy.
He should probably be ashamed to use his sister that way, but he had an undoubted faith that Helaena knew what he was asking for and still aiding him anyway. Because unlike his previous eccentric Divination professor Sybill Trelawney, who had a theatrical presence and frequently spoke in misty, ethereal tones, and whose hobby had been practising doom-laden prophecies in front of a mirror, Helaena showed a great deal of pertinence to her dragon dreams that haunted those with the blood of the dragon without the help of tea leaves and other such nonsense.
"What is it?" Aegon asked, a frown creasing between his eyebrows as he strained to see it through the little hole, cupping his own calloused hands over Helaena's as he peeked in.
"A Bloodfly," Helaena's voice was just above a whisper, but the two brothers could still hear it. "They usually live in marshes and stagnant pools. Mostly found in Essos. They lay their eggs in the dead and dying - animals and humans alike."
"Please tell me you found it in a sewer and not inside a dead body," Aegon breathed outward, a soft sigh of despair. Because, honestly speaking, he wouldn't even be surprised if they found some dead body lying around in the keep. Murder and mayhem were like breathing to the Westerosi, and he rather his sweet sister does not see it with her own eyes yet. She's fucked up as it is with all the visions that plagued her every waking moment. There is no need for the new gory images.
"Of course, I wouldn't let her see a dead body," Aemond looked offended that his brother could even suggest such a thing. "What do you take me for?"
"A bloody Gryffindor," muttered Aegon under his breath, pulling his knees close to his chest as the dull throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince. His training with Ser Criston had just upped from defeating a straw soldier to trying and failing to defeat the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Oh, how he ached to hold a wand instead of a long sword.
"- Griff, what?" He doesn't pay his brother any mind, choosing to stare at his sister instead. "Thank you for showing me Hela. What are we naming it?"
"Hmm," the girl made a sound thoughtful and sad, her white-blond hair as soft as spun silk covering half of her face gleaming under the sun. Just when he thought she would not give any answer, the princess spoke, "There will be no need - it will die by the end of the day."
"Huh," Aegon didn't know what one could say to that. He couldn't very well disagree with a seer who could see the future even for the sake of comfort. So he turned to the younger brother, who, despite all his fiery temperament and young age, was very attuned to Helaena's feelings and knew precisely what to make her feel better.
"Come with me, sister," Aemond comes to his rescue with no further prompt, "we can show it a nice place so it can spend the rest of its time in peace." Aegon sends him a grateful look for that, only to earn a good-natured roll of his brother's eyes.
Once they two were out of his sight, Aegon heaved himself into a sitting position, arms, and legs outstretched with unhurried, lazy grace, and grinned up at the person standing a distance away from him. "Ser Lorent," Aegon greets the Kingsguard as he approaches him, "Has anything happened that I might find of interest?"
"It seems a dispute arose between the Blackwood and Brackens again, my prince. Although the courtiers talk of it in the halls, seemingly believing it would lead to bloodshed in a moon turn or two. Yet no petition came to the crown until now asking for aid." Aegon hums. He could not believe how grown men could possibly squabble over a couple of rocks and sheep like a bunch of dunderheads and drag their smallfolk to the war to assuage their bruised egos.
"Do we know if Lord Grover made any efforts to settle this quarrel before the fools rage each other's lands and burn each other fields?" Aegon had no interest in going to war after having died in one already. He had seen all that humanity had to offer, had experienced how the blood and ash of the dead smelled and had no wish to go through it again.
Definitely not against his family - not against his blood.
"It is said Lord Grover had taken to bed, my prince. His son now rules Riverrun in all but name," The knight of Westerland informed, his heavy brows shadowing his eyes and a sword at his side as he walked behind the young prince.
"The princess's labors have begun at midday, my prince," at that, Aegon withheld a wince. He had been outside the chambers as his mother labored a day and a half to bring Aemond into the world, and there was nothing more painful than hearing her cries while he stood there helplessly, having no hope to help in the monstrous battle.
"Then I must give my nephews some familial comfort, should I not." He didn't wait for the response knowing there won't be one. Ser Leront Marbrand was a knight who did not share a similar interest in typical chittering as the rest of the court. It was why Aegon liked to be in his company more than others. He would relay his appointments, guard him during his nights or days, and does not hover around him, asking questions about his whereabouts if he were to disappear for an hour or two inside the keep.
Soon, he found herself wandering down gloomy halls past faded tapestries, with a thousand eyes following him as he descended endless circular stairs and darted through courtyards to reach the other side of the keep where Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon would be present.
While Ser Lorent stood guard outside, with other members of the city watch, Aegon pushed the heavy iron door open with a loud creak that would surely have Aemond's hackles raising in loud complaints for his lack of manners. "My dearest Nephews!"
"Uncle," The six-year-old Lucerys voice was loud, echoing up the shaft, a demanding pout upon his lips as he half-walked and half-jogged to him. "Can you please tell Jace that I get the honor to put the cradle in the new babe's cradle since I was the one who selected the egg?" Aegon eyed the Dragon egg being held protectively in the boy's hands - its scales the color of red, veined with whorls of gold and bronze.
Aegon didn't even open his mouth before Jacaerys was already cutting him off, a conspiratorial look in his eyes that looked nothing like the color of his own siblings and him. "Uncle, can you please tell Luke that as the oldest, I get the rights to such things over the youngest?"
"Most definitely, nephew. The older you are, the more rights you have," Aegon agreed without inflexion, angering the younger black-haired and brown-eyed boy. "I didn't make the rules, Luce. It's the way of life, I'm afraid, always has been."
With a huff, the little boy pushes the dragon egg into unexpecting Aegon's arms, "I hate older siblings," he complains before walking back to sit in the corner of the room with the book, which was previously discarded haphazardly on the bed long before he entered. Oh, how he missed his little brother Daeron. Draco never realized how fun it is to prank little siblings who hang by their elder's word like they are the messenger of god himself.
"Milk it as much as you can before he figures it out," Aegon whispered, looking at Jace with a sly smirk, making the black-haired boy grin in victory before he moved to take back the egg and put it in a hot brazier amongst the burning coals.
"So, who fancies a game of cyvasse?" He asks loudly, taking a seat on the cushioned chair behind the ornate cyvasse table strewn with pieces carved of ivory and onyx. "Perhaps one of you would care to wager on the outcome?" He proposes as he sets his tiles on the side of a carved wooden screen.
Luke perks up, arching an eyebrow from his spot. "How much?"
"Just a gold dragon," The silver prince wagers and notices the two Velaryons exchanging a look between them. "Come now, nephews, I would endeavor to be as gentle as King Maegor. And yes, you may join your great minds to defeat the poor old me, and I would have no qualms."
They did not need too much prompting after that. Soon, the two brothers sat across him and arrayed their army for the attack, with their dragon, elephants, and heavy horses up front. Draco - Aegon withheld a smirk as he understood their intentions for a quick kill but made no move to help them. They have to learn from experiences, after all. And it is always fun to defeat a bunch of Gryffindors who are as bold as they are foolish.
Still, he must say, they were getting better. Two moons ago, they had been setting their squares up the same way, with all the mountains in the front and his elephants in the passes, and it had been so easy to use his dragon and eat his elephants. So, this was an improvement.
When the youngest boy reached for his dragon, Aegon cleared his throat. "You realize there are other pieces besides the dragon, right?" Draco tells them innocently, "Try moving them sometimes, nephew. There's no need to bring forth your dragon so early." Exchanging another look, Jace decided to pick up his heavy horse and put it down with a thump.
"So, do you know what my new nephew's name will be?" Aegon answered the move by shifting his onyx elephant.
"How do you know it will be a nephew - it could very well be a niece?" Jace looked at the board in concentration as he talked. He looked hesitant between moving his mountains and horses.
"Yes, I want a sister." Luke decides for his brother by moving the heavy horse to trample Aegon's light one. A scowl marred his features as he idly thought about the move after shifting the piece.
"Hela thinks it will be a boy, and only a fool would wager against her," Aegon tells them sagely, pushing his black dragon across a range of mountains. Their mouths twisted in fury when he ate up the elephants, and soon after a flurry of quick movements, Aegon's catapult removed their dragon from the board.
"But-" they sputtered like it didn't even cross their mind that Aegon might be deceiving them in a game of deceit and warfare. "You told us not to move the dragon, though."
"I lied," Aegon shrugs. "Keep your dragons close, always. But, still, it should not be an answer to everything. You could have used it in the middle - I even left an opening for you," he leans forward, his chin resting on the meaty palm of his hand as he considered the two children. "You must always trust your gut when you have so much on the line, nephews."
"An excellent measure," the sudden voice makes them jump in their places. "Trust no one but yourself, my princes," Even though his gaze remained on the Cyvasse screen, Aegon felt as if he was instructing it to his own sons rather than him. "Especially in a battle with equal opponents and pieces."
"Fuck!" cursed Aegon, breathing deeply to stop his heart from hammering, "Ser Harwin, I haven't seen you come inside. Oh, Gods, Ser Criston will have my head when he realizes I have piss-poor awareness of my surroundings, even with all the training he's been giving me."
"You are a prince - he wouldn't dare," Luke states, exhibiting the terminal literalism inherent to six-year-olds that even his princeship could not cure.
"It's a figure of speech, Luce. Sarcasm, remember - we talked about it," Aegon got up to his feet to move across the table, absently ruffling the young boy's hair as he glanced over the game. "Anyway, you made a decent effort today even if your king is trapped and would have died in three more moves. It's a long way coming - especially for a boy who wished to fly his elephants along with dragons."
"I thought we decided you would not bring it up anymore," Luke grumbled audibly, blushing so deeply that he turned the same color as his robes, making Jace and Ser Harwin snicker next to him.
"I lied," Aegon repeated his statement from before, his violet eyes glittering. "Now, which of you sore losers is paying me upon the agreed coin?"