Aegon - Kids
Aegon
twelfth moon of 61 AC
The air in the Small Council chamber was thick with the weight of authority, but none of it felt important to Aegon. He sat on the edge of his chair, a cup in hand, barely listening to the endless chatter that surrounded him. His father, King Jaehaerys I, presided at the head of the table, his attention consumed by the details of the realm. Septon Barth, the Hand of the King, droned on about some new law in the Reach, while Grand Maester Elysar scribbled something in his notes. Lord Martyn Tyrell was deep in conversation with Lord Rodrik Arryn, both of them more interested in their own words than in Aegon’s presence.
"More wine, Your Grace?" Aegon asked, his voice flat, as he refilled his father's goblet without looking up. He felt the weight of his own impatience, the dull ache of being here, being treated like a mere servant instead of the heir to the Iron Throne.
His father barely acknowledged him, his attention fixed on the councilors, nodding absently. Aegon bit his lip. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be here—well, it was. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to serve anyone’s cup. He wanted to sit at the head of the table, to make decisions, to command.
Why should I wait? Aegon’s thoughts swirled in his mind. I’m the heir. I should be deciding things, not just refilling goblets for these old men.
He shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table. His eyes wandered around the room, settling on Lord Manfryd Redwyne, the Master of Ships, who was speaking in a low voice to Ser Gyles Morrigen, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. They were discussing some naval issue, no doubt, but it all seemed so... pointless. Aegon’s gaze flicked back to his father. King Jaehaerys was deep in conversation with Septon Barth, his face hard and focused.
Why did he have to look so serious all the time? Aegon thought bitterly. Can’t he see I’m ready to rule?
His gaze fell on the councilors again, and for a moment, he considered leaving the room altogether. The nursery was just down the hall—he could go and find Daenerys. At least she didn’t make him feel like he was waiting for something. She always made time for him, even when his father didn’t. And Baelon, though still young, was a better company than the old men who filled the room with their tiresome discussions.
His thoughts were interrupted by his father’s sharp voice.
“Aegon.”
He straightened instantly, though he was still filled with a restless energy. “Yes, Father?”
King Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow but didn’t look at him. “When you’re done with your duties, I expect you to listen closely. You’ll need to understand how this realm operates. You’ll need to be ready for when it’s your turn.”
Aegon clenched his jaw, a sour taste in his mouth. I’m already ready, he wanted to shout. But you won’t let me do anything!
Instead, he only nodded. “Of course, Father,” he said, his voice carefully measured. He wasn’t going to argue with his father in front of the council. Not now. Not here.
King Jaehaerys continued his discussion, seemingly satisfied with the exchange, but Aegon’s thoughts had already drifted away. He couldn’t help but think of Daenerys again. She was so much easier to be around than the stifling walls of the Small Council.
Aegon’s attention wandered to the others in the room. Septon Barth was now discussing the necessity of reforming the justice system, but Aegon couldn’t summon the energy to care. He looked toward Lord Martyn Tyrell, who was going on about some taxation problem in the Stormlands, but the words blurred together in his mind.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Father,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, “can’t we finish this? It’s just… so dull.”
King Jaehaerys glanced at him, his eyes narrowing. “Patience, Aegon,” he said softly but firmly. “You’ll learn in time that the kingdom doesn’t wait for you. You must wait for it.”
Aegon’s hand tightened around the goblet, his thoughts swirling with frustration. Patience. It was the same thing his mother said whenever he complained, but it never felt any less suffocating.
His eyes flicked toward the door again. There was no way out—not without disrespecting his father. But the longing to leave this dull meeting was overpowering. His heart tugged at the thought of Daenerys. She was probably waiting for him, eager for their games.
“Well, maybe I’ll just… wait then,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. But it doesn’t seem fair. I should be doing more.
Aegon pushed open the heavy wooden door to the nursery, its creak loud in the otherwise silent halls. The room was bathed in soft sunlight that filtered through the high windows, casting a warm glow on the toys scattered across the floor. The scent of fresh linens and baby oil lingered in the air.
His eyes immediately sought out Daenerys, her silver-gold hair shimmering like the sun on water as she knelt by a cradle, cooing softly at Alyssa, who gurgled in return. Baelon, ever the rowdy one, was chasing the cat with a wooden sword, laughing loudly, his high-pitched voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere.
Aegon felt a flash of irritation. Baelon and Alyssa—babies in his eyes, small and silly, unworthy of Daenerys’ attention. He had grown accustomed to being the center of her world. She was his sister, and her love was something he controlled. The others, they were just noise.
He walked over to Daenerys, his steps purposeful, and placed a hand on her shoulder as if staking his claim. "Daenerys," he said, his voice pitched low, though not unkindly. "Don’t you want to play with me? Not with them."
She looked up at him, her face soft with affection but tinged with confusion. "But Aegon, Baelon is only playing with the cat. And Alyssa is still so little..."
"I don’t care about the cat," Aegon snapped, though his tone wasn’t harsh. It was just the way he said it, like it was beneath him. "You and I could do something better. Come on, I’ll show you."
He gently tugged on her hand, pulling her towards the corner of the room where the dolls and wooden horses were arranged. Daenerys hesitated, casting a glance at her younger siblings, but Aegon was already distracted by a small wooden knight he had set aside for their game. He was eager to start; his sense of entitlement made him impatient for her attention.
Baelon, noticing the movement, paused in his chase and pouted. "Hey! I was playing with that!" he complained, but Aegon barely glanced at him.
Daenerys, sensing the tension rising, gave her brother a small smile, though there was a flicker of concern in her wide eyes. "Aegon, don’t be so—"
"I’m not being anything!" Aegon cut in quickly, the flush of frustration creeping into his cheeks. "I’m just trying to play. You can’t always play with the babies."
"But they’re my brothers and sisters," Daenerys replied softly, her voice a little unsure. "I like to play with all of you."
Aegon scowled, his eyes dark with frustration as he glanced over at Baelon and Alyssa, who were still playing quietly in the corner. He turned back to Daenerys, his voice low and almost resentful. "You’ll be bored with them," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "They’re just... they’re not like us. They don’t understand."
Daenerys watched him carefully, her gaze softening at the hurt in his voice. She stepped closer to him, her hand gently resting on his arm.
"Aegon, I don’t mind," she said, her tone gentle, but her gaze flickering between Baelon and Alyssa as they played. "I like spending time with you." She hesitated before adding, "But... they need me too. And I think we should all play together. Just for a little while."
Her words were like a small crack in his resolve, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the anger just yet. His grip on her hand tightened as he pulled her slightly to the side, away from the others. His voice was more insistent, like a child demanding attention. "No," he said, his tone hardening. "I don’t want them there. I want you—just you."
Daenerys looked at him, the strain in his eyes cutting deeper than she expected.
Before she could say anything more, Baelon’s voice interrupted them, his face flushed from his earlier running around. "Aegon! Aegon, where’s Aemon?" he asked, his bright eyes full of curiosity.
Aegon’s stomach tightened at the mention of Aemon’s name. He turned his sharp gaze on Baelon, his words coming out quicker and sharper than he intended. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his voice clipped.
Baelon blinked, taken aback by the sudden harshness, but he didn’t back down. "Because I want him to help me with the cat. He’s better than you at that."
The mention of Aemon—always so perfect, always so calm—made Aegon’s chest tighten with a pang of jealousy. Aemon, the one who always seemed to be everything their parents wanted, the one who could do no wrong. Aegon hated how much easier it was for Aemon to be liked. To be better.
He forced his gaze back to Daenerys, desperate to redirect her attention. "You don’t need Aemon," he said quickly, almost pleading. "Let’s play something better, just you and me."
Daenerys gave him a small, understanding smile, but there was a hint of worry behind her eyes. "But Aegon," she said softly, "Aemon’s good at playing with Baelon and Alyssa. He can keep them busy while we do our game. You know how much fun we have when it’s just us."
Aegon rolled his eyes in exasperation, but deep down, he could feel the sting of her words. He didn’t want to share her attention, not with anyone—especially not Aemon. He was sick of always being compared to him, even if no one said it out loud.
"You don’t need Aemon to have fun," he muttered stubbornly, his voice gruff. "We can play better without them." He glanced at her, trying to make her understand. "Just us."
Before she could respond, Aegon turned his attention back to the game they had started, but his focus was broken when Baelon suddenly darted out of the room, running off with a purpose. Aegon didn’t notice, too preoccupied with his own feelings of frustration and entitlement.
It wasn’t until a moment later that Aemon appeared in the doorway, calm and collected, as always. His presence seemed to fill the room, though he didn’t say anything at first. Aegon’s jaw tightened, the irritation from earlier bubbling up again. Aemon was so effortless, so good at everything. He was everything Aegon was supposed to be, or at least that’s how it felt sometimes.
"Is there a problem?" Aemon asked, his voice quiet, though he was clearly aware of the tension in the air.
Aegon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shot a quick glance at Daenerys, then back to Aemon. Aemon’s gaze was steady, patient, never rushing, and that only served to irritate Aegon further. Aegon was the heir, not Aemon. It should have been him receiving the calm attention, the gentle patience, not his brother.
"No problem," Aegon muttered, but his tone was sharp, betraying his irritation.
Aemon raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he stepped forward. His voice was steady, almost too calm for Aegon’s liking. "Mother is looking for you."
Aegon’s lip curled in a small, annoyed pout. “I already spent the whole day with Father,” he grumbled, flicking a wooden soldier at Baelon, who squealed and ducked.
“She said it was important,” Aemon added. “I can take you to her.”
Aegon’s frown deepened, but he quickly plastered a smile on his face, turning to Daenerys as if it would make everything better. "No, it’s my time to play now,” he insisted, his voice trying to sound more casual than he felt.
Daenerys gently tugged at his sleeve, her expression soft but firm. “You have to go,” she said quietly. “We’ll wait for you. You can play with us after.”
Aegon hesitated, looking from Daenerys to Baelon and Alyssa, who were now poking at the cat together. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he just stared at Daenerys. "Fine," he muttered through clenched teeth. "We’ll play later. But... you’ll play with me next time, right? Just... just you and me."
Daenerys nodded quietly, but there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes that Aegon didn’t miss. He gave her a quick, forced smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
"Yeah," he added, his voice lower, tinged with something he didn’t want to admit. "Promise."
With that, Aegon turned and marched toward the door, but not before throwing one last glance at Daenerys. She was already returning to her younger siblings, her attention shifting back to them without a second thought. Aegon’s heart tightened at the sight, the ache in his chest growing deeper.
He wished things could be different. That Daenerys could always be his, that she wouldn’t have to divide her attention with anyone else. The others—Aemon, Baelon, Alyssa—didn’t matter. Only her.
But reality was different, and he knew it. He couldn’t change it. Not yet.
The corridors of the Red Keep seemed to stretch on endlessly as Aegon walked, his steps quick and a little too loud in the silence. The weight of the day still pressed on him, the council meeting a tedious blur of old men talking over each other, each word more boring than the last. He had hoped for something exciting, but instead, he'd spent hours holding goblets and listening to nonsense. He could have done something better—he was certain of it.
“Aegon?”
He paused, his thoughts interrupted by his mother’s voice. Her tone was soft, but it carried a warmth that made him sigh in relief. His irritation, at least for the moment, melted away. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but being near her always made everything seem... less difficult.
He opened the door to her chambers without waiting, finding her sitting by the window, her hands resting on her swollen belly. Queen Alysanne looked tired, her hair loosely braided as she gazed out at the gardens below, but she smiled when she saw him.
“I’ve been waiting for you, my love,” she said gently, patting the seat next to her. “Come here, sit with me.”
Aegon crossed the room and dropped onto the chair beside her, kicking his feet out in frustration. He wanted to complain, to shout about how annoying the council had been, how he wasn’t treated like he mattered. But he knew he didn’t have to say anything. His mother always knew when something was wrong.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Alysanne asked, her voice gentle, as she reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I hate it,” Aegon blurted out, unable to keep the words inside any longer. “I’m tired of it. I’m the heir! They should listen to me, not make me sit there and hold cups while they talk about... ships and taxes. It’s boring. I don’t want to do it anymore.”
Alysanne chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Aegon, darling, you’re still too young to make decisions like that. You need time to learn, and so much more will be expected of you in the future.”
“I know that!” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “But why do I have to wait? I already know what I’d do. It’s stupid to make me listen to them all day.”
Alysanne smiled again, but there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. “Because sometimes, the things you want right now aren’t the things you need. Being the heir is a heavy responsibility, Aegon. And you must learn what that means.”
“But I’m ready,” Aegon muttered, more to himself than to her. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“I know,” she said softly, squeezing his hand again. “But you’re still growing, and there’s more to ruling than just making decisions. It’s about understanding the consequences, and that takes time. I promise you, when you’re ready, no one will stand in your way.”
Aegon pouted, sinking back into his chair. He didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to sit in endless council meetings and listen to things that didn’t matter. But his mother’s words had a way of calming him, even if he didn’t fully understand why.
“I just want to do something... important,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if the energy had drained out of him. “Something that makes a difference.”
“You will,” Alysanne said, her tone firm but soft, “but you don’t have to rush to get there. The world will still be here tomorrow. Take your time and learn the things you need to.”
Aegon wasn’t entirely convinced, but there was something about the way his mother spoke that made him feel better, even if just a little. The frustration still gnawed at him, but it wasn’t as sharp now.
He shifted on the chair, his gaze drifting to her round belly. He wasn’t sure why it fascinated him so much, but it did. “When is the baby coming?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else.
Alysanne smiled warmly at him. “Very soon, I think. It’s been a long journey, and I know I’m getting close now.”
He looked at her, wide-eyed, before asking the question that had been on his mind for a while now. “Are you sure it’s not going to be a boy this time?”
Alysanne raised an eyebrow. “And why would that matter?”
Aegon shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t like boys! I hope is a girl.”
She laughed, a soft sound that made him smile, even though he hadn’t meant it to be funny. “But Aemon and Baelon adore you! You are a good older brother, don’t you think?”
Aegon scowled, but only half-heartedly. He wasn’t sure why, but he always felt like he had to be the one to do it all. “But I don’t want to be the one everyone depends on,” he muttered, then looked up at her, feeling a strange lump in his throat. “What if Daenerys has to do everything instead? What if I don’t help enough?”
Alysanne’s expression softened even more, her hand rubbing gently across his hair. “Daenerys is a strong girl, Aegon. And I know you’ll both grow into your roles, just like your father and I did. You don’t have to take it all on yourself.”
Aegon’s chest felt tight, but he nodded, if only to make her feel better. He wasn’t sure he believed her entirely, but it was comforting to think that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to do everything alone.
“And when I do take over,” Aegon said quietly, “I won’t make Daenerys do everything. I promise.”
Alysanne smiled, her eyes full of affection as she kissed the top of his head. “I know you will, Aegon. You’re a good boy. You’ll make a great king one day.”
He looked up at her, blinking rapidly to hide the sudden sting in his eyes. He didn’t want to think about ruling yet, not with everything else going on. But in his mother’s arms, he allowed himself to imagine the future, just for a moment.