NSFW Creative Writing[NSFW] No Throne, No Dragon, No Problem (ASOIAF SI) Thread starterUnfortunate_Soul Start dateWednesday at 8:52 AM Tagsasoiaf house of the dragon power manipulation self insert strong to opCreatedWednesday at 8:52 AMStatusIncompleteWatchers1,704Recent readers5,842Threadmarks6When your family sucks so much that you would rather choose exile. That's the life of Aegon Targaryen, son of Baelon and Alyssa Tagaryen.
Add a highly nerfed Power Manipulator to the mix, and this story is the result.ThreadmarksStatistics (6 threadmarks, 7.5k words)ThreadmarksReader mode RSS Chapter 1- A lovely talk between a grandfather and grandsonWords 950Wednesday at 8:52 AMChapter 2- A tale of two brothersWords 1.1kWednesday at 1:47 PMNewChapter 4- Punishment, or blessing in disguise?Words 1.4kYesterday at 10:54 AMNewChapter 5- FarewellWords 2.4kToday at 6:16 AMNewChapter 6- A much needed lessonWords 1.2k37 minutes agoJump to newIgnoreWatchThread ToolsThreadmarksView contentThreadmarks Chapter 1- A lovely talk between a grandfather and grandson View contentUnfortunate_SoulVersed in the lewd.Wednesday at 8:52 AMAdd bookmark#1Aegon Targaryen (Son of Baelon) POV
The door shut behind him with a soft thud, and Aegon entered the King's solar. The room was large but not indulgently so, illuminated by the sunlight from the tall, narrow windows, along with a dozen candles.
At the heart of the chamber stood a heavy oak desk, filled with neatly stacked ledgers, parchments and fresh letters. A chair carved from dark wood sat behind it, and upon it, sat the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Jaehaerys I Targraryen.
His grandfather.
Aegon stopped in front of the desk, clasped his hands behind his back and waited. And waited, and waited as his grandfather continued writing on his parchments. Their contents apparently more important than family.
Minutes passed in silence broken only by the scratch of quill on parchment. And at last, without lifting his gaze, the king spoke. "Have you come to complain about your betrothal again?"
Aegon would have been incensed by the casual dismissal of his concerns if he hadn't long ago grown numb to his family's indifference. "If wishing to meet my future wife before our wedding day is considered 'complaining,'" he countered, "then perhaps Your Grace is not quite as wise as the realm believes."
The quill stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, Jaehaerys set it aside. He looked up at him then, truly looked. "The marriage has been decided. And you will do your duty to your house. As Daella did. As Viserra did."
'As you did? By marrying Alysanne even when your own mother and regent forbade it?' The retort burned in his throat, but he bit it back, knowing it would change nothing. One could always count on the sun to rise in the east, a rooster to crow at dawn, and King Jaehaerys to be a hypocrite.
"Will I?" He asked instead.
Silence fell, and his grandfather's eyes narrowed sharply. Jaehaerys slowly leaned back in his chair. "Excuse me?"
Aegon met the old man's gaze without flinching. Unlike his brothers, he neither feared, nor respected the King. "Has Your Grace ever wondered why I never claimed a dragon?"
The king raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."
"Because I never wished to bind myself to this house more than necessary." Aegon's tone remained level, almost conversational. "Without a dragon, I am… less tethered," he paused, "I could leave Westeros entirely. And while my grandmother might grieve, I suspect Your Grace would simply label me a disgrace and consider it a problem solved."
That seemed to have finally struck a chord and Jaehaerys straightened in his seat, the calm slipping just enough to reveal the steel beneath. "Oh? You'll leave, will you? And go where? You think the world beyond Westeros is kind? That you can simply walk into it and survive?"
Aegon locked eyes with the King, his expression unreadable. "I imagine I shall have my answer soon enough."
A short, sharp scoff escaped the king. "So that is your master plan? To run?"
Aegon shrugged. "Seems better than remaining with this family. Especially with how you seem to treat us all like disposable pawns."
Something dangerous crept into Jaehaerys's expression. "Mind your words, boy."
"Or what? You will marry me off faster?" Aegon asked and then matched Jaeharys' earlier mocking expression with one of his own. "Like you did with Saera? Pray tell, how did that turn out for you?"
The air in the room turned brittle. Jaehaerys's jaw tightened, his knuckles white as his hands worked with suppressed fury. "Your father always claimed you were too clever for your own good," the King said softly. "I see now he was mistaken. You are nothing but a petulant, foolish child."
"And you are an old, heartless monster who loves his crown far more than his family," Aegon retorted, the words cutting through the tension. "Had you shown the realm's devotion to your own blood, perhaps half your family wouldn't despise you today. Including your own 'Good Queen.'"
"Enough. I have had enough of you." The King's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "I will not have my will questioned by a child who would sooner flee than fulfill his duty. Guards! Escort him out. Confine him to his chambers. He is not to step foot beyond his doors until the Royces arrive—and the gods have bound this marriage."
The Kingsguard moved instantly, and for a moment, Aegon considered fighting his way out of this. He had never really shown them his true strength, so perhaps he could take them by surprise. But even then, would it be enough?
He was unsure. And in the end, he did not want to kill these men for the crime of being loyal. Not to mention that actions based on impulse rarely led to a good result.
In the end, he simply nodded and let the Kingsguard lead him away. They walked him to the door, where he stopped and turned to look at the King one last time.
"If I marry Lady Rhea Royce, will my children have dragons?" Aegon asked. "And what will their name be? Targaryen… or Royce?"
Jaehaerys answered immediately. "When Rhaenys married Corlys Velaryon, you were the one who said too many dragon-riding families would be a threat to the realm. And you have never shown interest in dragons before. Keep it that way."
Aegon's fists clenched hard enough that they bled, but then he let out a laugh. As if he would ever live his life according to the desires of other. Though, this action of denying dragons to him and his children only cemented his thoughts regarding his own family.
He stepped out of the chamber and did not look back. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Beacon Of Destiny, NemmiX, MxReader01 and 444 othersUnfortunate_SoulWednesday at 8:52 AMAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 2- A tale of two brothers View contentUnfortunate_SoulVersed in the lewd.Wednesday at 1:47 PMAdd bookmark#19The knife slid cleanly through the wood, shaving off a thin curl that fell into Aegon's lap. Each shave brought the wood closer to his desired form—the scaled head of a dragon. He started wood carving only a year ago, but thanks to his second power, his carvings could already match the work of experts.
He carefully carved around the dragon's eye, losing himself in the work until a loud scrape of steel on wood broke his focus.
The door to his chamber opened without ceremony, and Daemon Targaryen walked in with his usual swagger. Gael followed him a step behind, quiet as usual, but no less noticeable, especially with that small baby bump on her belly.
Aegon gave his brother a look and then returned to his carving.
"I heard you were caged like some misbehaving whelp," Daemon drawled, his eyes sweeping the room with a cold, mocking boredom. "A pitiable display, truly."
Another sliver of wood curled away. Aegon remained silent.
"The Royces are here," Daemon added, as if merely noting the weather. "Your future wife included. It's only right that a dragonless worm like you should be tethered to an Andal woman. Try not to let your disappointment show too plainly when you meet her; it wouldn't do to further embarrass our house."
Aegon gave him brother a look, and then went back to his carving.
Daemon's lips curved into a thin, mocking smile. He stepped closer, circling like a predator, his gaze dropping to the dragon carving. "Still whittling away at scraps of wood?" he drawled. "I suppose I shouldn't expect much from you."
The knife paused for the briefest moment. Then resumed.
"If you truly wish to escape this marriage, I can help," Daemon said softly; quiet enough to keep the Kingsguard outside from hearing.
Aegon paused, looking at Daemon with clear skepticism. They had always been at odds since he was a babe; it was hard to believe his brother had suddenly found a conscience. "How?"
"I could always take your place in the bedding ceremony," Daemon said, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "You can watch from the side and let your betters show you how it's done."
Aegon's mouth fell open before he let out a weary sigh. Why did I expect anything else?
His gaze then slid over to Gael, as he wondered if she had something to say about Daemon's casual insults. But she bit her lips and looked away to avoid meeting his eyes.
'I saved you.' He thought, his heart breaking just a bit. 'I saved both of you.'
If not for him arguing with his grandmother, then she would have never allowed Daemon to marry Gael. Instead, Daemon would currently be in his position, being married to Rhea Royce, while Gael would later get impregnated by a travelling bard, have a miscarriage, and then drown herself in grief.
I wonder why I ever expected my good deeds to be rewarded. I should know better than to expect anything from my family by now.
He returned to his carving. "Did you deliver my message?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. He refused to let Daemon see any weakness.
Daemon didn't miss a beat. "I did."
"And?"
A slow, cruel smile spread across Daemon's face. "Our father thinks it's an excellent match. House Royce is an ancient and noble house. Good enough for a useless third son. He was quite pleased, in fact."
The blade bit too deep. He sighed at the ruined work and tossed the half-finished dragon head aside. He turned to Daemon, narrowing his eyes and searching for any sign of a lie.
If his first power was stronger and worked from a distance, he would know the truth. As it stood, Daemon could have burned the letter instead of giving it to their father, and he would be none the wiser.
In the end, though, he supposed it didn't truly matter. If his father had cared, truly cared, then he would've visited him by now. That he hadn't said enough about his stance on this matter.
Once again, he was not surprised by his family's treatment of him. Only disappointed.
"I see," he said.
Daemon tilted his head. "That's all you have to say?"
"What more would you like me to say?"
"Oh, I don't know." Daemon's eyes gleamed. "Rage, perhaps. Maybe beg a little. Why are you always so disappointingly calm?"
He mulled over the matter for a moment. It's not like he was an emotional person in his past life either. But in this life, he was indeed too calm. Too detached. He wondered if this was a sign of his emotional maturity or just a coping mechanism for dealing with his family.
"If you're done," he said without looking up, "you can leave."
Daemon didn't move from his position. "And what would you do if I don't?"
He turned to Daemon, clenching his fists. He flooded his veins with adrenaline, bracing for a fight. Though he was three years younger than Daemon and half a foot shorter, he had no doubt he would win; he had enhanced his body well enough to ensure it.
"Leave now," he said calmly. "Unless you want to be carried out."
Daemon let out a chuckle. "Is that so?"
"I'll count to ten," he said. "One, two…"
"Aegon. Is this really necessary?" Gael finally spoke up.
Oh. Now you remember how to speak? Where was your voice when your husband was insulting me to my face?
He ignored her and continued counting. "Three, four, five, six, seven, eight…" He trailed off as the two Kingsguard entered the room and stepped in between him and Daemon, showing that they had, in fact, been listening in on their conversation.
"My princes," one of them said firmly. "This is neither the time nor the place."
"My brother has finally found his stones," Daemon said, his gaze never wavering. "It would be a pity to let them go to waste now. Out of my way."
"The Prince's wedding is but a few days away," the Kingsguard interjected. "His Grace would be wroth if either of you were bloodied now."
A silence stretched between them.
Daemon exhaled sharply, a flash of irritation crossing his face before he mastered it. He straightened, fixing Aegon with a cold glare. "Another time then, little brother."
Aegon didn't bother to respond.
Daemon spared a single glance for Gael. "Come."
Gael hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Aegon with an unreadable look. She bit her lip, then turned and followed her husband out.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room in silence.Last edited: Wednesday at 1:59 PM Like ReplyReport Reactions:Beacon Of Destiny, NemmiX, MxReader01 and 488 othersUnfortunate_SoulWednesday at 1:47 PMAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 3- Marriage vows New View contentUnfortunate_SoulVersed in the lewd.Yesterday at 10:32 AMNewAdd bookmark#101The sweet and thick scent of Incense caused him to grimace as the Septon droned on and on. He let out a breath and watched the smoke curl lazily upward, where it got trapped beneath the carved stone roof of the Royal Sept.
His gaze shifted to the audience. The Royal Sept was crowded today with nobles that sat shoulder to shoulders filling up the entire rows. Many were from Crownlands but many more were from the Vale. Allies or distant family of House Royce. Their attention focused on him. And her.
In front of him stood Rhea Royce. Wearing a bronze coloured wedding dress. She looked rather beautiful and from what he'd heard of her, she would've made for a good wife.
Had he not been forced into this marriage like this against his will. Had he actually been given the chance to talk to her, to learn more about her, maybe, maybe this could have worked.
But, there was no point in thinking about 'maybes' anymore.
Finally, the Septon's droning voice came to a halt and Aegon started paying attention as the old man turned to face Rhea Royce. "Lady Rhea, will you take this man?"
Rhea Royce gave a nod. "…I'll take this man," she said.
"Prince Aegon," the septon continued, turning to face him, "will you take this woman?"
He stared into Rhea's eyes and his lips pressed into a thin line. He said nothing.
Silence fell into the Royal Sept and the nobles came to a slow, creeping realisation that something had gone off script.
For the first time in the half-hour since they'd met, Rhea Royce's composure cracked. She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated and fell silent—though her eyes pleaded with him to say the words.
I'm sorry. You don't deserve any of this, Rhea.
The septon cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the silence. "Prince Aegon," he repeated, a touch sharper, "will you take this woman?"
Aegon's jaw tightened. And for a fleeting moment, he considered yielding. Considered taking the easy way out. But then he turned and his gaze fell upon Jaehaerys, whose stern gaze was boring into him. And his father, who seemed to be awaking to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, forcing your children into a marriage was not such a good idea after all.
Aegon exhaled slowly and then spoke up.
"No."Last edited: Yesterday at 10:34 AM Like ReplyReport Reactions:Beacon Of Destiny, NemmiX, MxReader01 and 320 othersUnfortunate_SoulYesterday at 10:32 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 4- Punishment, or blessing in disguise? New View contentUnfortunate_SoulVersed in the lewd.Yesterday at 10:54 AMNewAdd bookmark#116The doors closed behind him with a hollow, final sound as Aegon once again entered the King's Solar. He stepped forward and took a seat in front of the desk.
Across the chamber, Jaehaerys I Targaryen stood with his back to him, hands clasped tight behind him, gaze cast over King's Landing through the tall window.
To the side, Baelon Targaryen sat at the table, a stamp rolling slowly between his fingers. Back and forth. Back and forth. His eyes unfocused.
No one said anything and the silence stretched as Aegon prepared himself for whatever punishment he might get.
The worst case scenario he could think was the King sending him to the Wall. In which case he would simply go over to the Land Beyond the Wall. With his powers, it shouldn't be that difficult for him to survive. And eventually thrive.
Was there anything worse than that? Well, he supposed the King could strip him of the Targaryen name, but he somehow doubted it. Despite all the disdain the King held for Saera, he still hadn't written her off from the family. So he doubted it would happen to him.
The King could punish him by refusing him and his line a dragon henceforth. In which case he'd simply wait till the King is dead before taking his own dragon, Vermithor, for himself. Wouldn't that just be hilarious.
The sound of the door opening brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Viserys stepping in, only to pause as he noticed the tense silence within the room. His gaze flicking from their father, to him, and to their grandfather's rigid back.
Viserys hesitated. Then cleared his throat. "They've left," He said at last, his voice careful. "House Royce I mean. And the Vale lords left with them."
The words settled heavily into the room. And he looked to the King to see how he would react. Jaehaerys didn't turn, or show any other reaction. A long moment passed before he finally spoke up. "Leave us."
Viserys inclined his head once and slipped out, looking almost relieved at being dismissed.
The door closed and the heavy silence returned once again.
Then Jaehaerys moved. Slowly, he turned from the window, walked back to his chair and lowered himself into it. For a moment, he said nothing. Then his eyes found Aegon. "Are you satisfied?"
Aegon shook his head once. No, if it was up to him, he would never have put Lady Rhea through something like that. Nor did he want to shame his family. But the circumstance left him with little choice.
A short, humourless laugh escaped the king. "No?" he said. "Then what would take it for you to be happy? Perhaps when you've insulted and turned every house in the realm against us, then you'll be happy?"
Aegon tilted his head slightly. "Do not put this on me, your grace. I never asked for any of this."
"For a marriage with a reputable house?"
"A marriage with a woman I've never even met before."
"So that's your excuse then? You wanted to meet her before marriage. What would that have changed?"
"I would have known whether we were right for each other or not."
"So you're saying you're not at fault here. Is that what I'm hearing?" The King asked softly.
He shrugged. "I'm at as much fault as a drowning man is at fault for trying to get another breath."
The king's expression hardened. "Lady Rhea Royce is a noblewoman of good character and standing. She would have given you lands, a castle, allies, a future." His voice sharpened. "She was a far better match than you deserved."
His lips sharpened into a thin line as he did his best to not be affected by the King's words.
"You have no accomplishments," the king continued. "No men. No land. No command. No legacy. Nothing but a name you seem intent on dragging through the mud."
Aegon's eyes narrowed. 'I'm only thirteen.' He wanted to say, but he doubted that Jaehaerys would care.
"You stand here," Jaehaerys pressed, "having insulted one of our most loyal houses, shamed your family before the realm, and you dare—dare—to compare the marriage to drowning?"
Aegon inhaled slowly. 'It doesn't matter.' He reminded himself. 'None of this matters. Given enough time, I'm going to become a god. This is nothing.'
"Speak," the king snapped suddenly. "Or have you lost even that courage?"
Aegon remained still.
"I said speak!" Jaehaerys barked, rising halfway from his chair. "Do you have nothing to say for yourself?"
Aegon met the King's gaze and deliberately said nothing.
For the first time, real anger broke through as the King all but snarled at him. "You would defy me even now?" Jaehaerys demanded. "You would stand there, mute, after what you've done?"
Aegon held his silence.
As far as he was considered, he had done nothing wrong but stand by his principles and values. And as far as the King was considered, he had brought shame to House Targaryen's name. And nothing anyone said would ever change either of their minds.
Jaehaerys stared at him, breathing harder than before. "I should strip you of your name," he said, voice low, dangerous. "Cast you out of our house. Of Westeros. Let the world see what becomes of ungrateful sons."
Baelon finally stood from his chair. "That would be too far, father" he said quietly.
Jaehaerys's gaze snapped to him. "Too far?" he echoed. "He has disgraced us before the entire realm. Why would anyone ever respect House Targaryen if we cannot even keep our word?"
Then you shouldn't have given your word regarding my marriage.
"He is still your blood," Baelon replied. "Punish him… but not like that."
A tense pause followed.
Then Jaehaerys let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face before turning slightly away. "Very well, son." he said. "What would you have me do with him? Speak. Not as the boy's father but as the heir to the Iron Throne."
Baelon hesitated for a moment, then spoke up. "Send him to Dragonstone," he said. "Confine him there. Let him cool his head for a few years."
Jaehaerys considered it. For a moment, it almost seemed enough. But then his expression hardened again. "No," he said and then stood, slowly. "If he wishes to cast aside his duties," Jaehaerys said, turning his gaze back to Aegon, "if he believes he can survive without his family, then we shall see how well he fares."
Despite all his mental preparations, Aegon felt his fists clench in apprehension as he waited for the verdict.
"You will be exiled," Jaehaerys declared. "Seven years. You will leave Westeros—and you will receive no gold, no support, no guards, nothing beyond what you can earn for yourself."
Baelon stepped forward. "Father—"
"I am not finished." The room fell still again. "You wished for freedom," Jaehaerys said, his gaze locking onto Aegon's. "Now you will have it. You will live as you claim you desire. Without House Targaryen's protection or privilege."
Baelon's jaw tightened. "Father. He is just a boy."
"He is a disgrace," Jaehaerys replied flatly. "And I've had enough of those in this family."
Aegon took a breath and felt as his surroundings suddenly became all to clear to him. He could see the uncomfortable movements of the Kingsguard out of the corner of his eyes. Feel the fabric of his clothes, the warmth of his doublet.
At the same time, he also felt detached. As if he was watching things from a third person's perspective. As if he was not himself.
Slowly, he got up from his chair, and spoke up. "When do I have to leave?"
"As quickly as possible," Jaehaerys replied without even looking at him.
He took a deep breath and the exhaled. 'Seven years. Seven years of no court, no expectations, no one deciding my life for me. Maybe… this is not a punishment but a blessing in disguise.'
He inclined his head. "As you command, Your Grace." With that, he turned and left. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Beacon Of Destiny, MxReader01, NemmiX and 447 othersUnfortunate_SoulYesterday at 10:54 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 5- Farewell New View contentUnfortunate_SoulVersed in the lewd.Today at 6:16 AMNewAdd bookmark#318Author's Note
Okay, so I would like to address a few issues before we get on with the chapter
1st issue: Why are the chapters so short?
Answer: Because I want to try something new and see how it works out for me. The results so far are that writing shorter chapters has been a very enjoyable experience for me. But at the same time, you guys don't seem to enjoy the short chapters, so I'll try to find a balance and write somewhat longer chapters in the future. Between 1000 and 2000 words.
2nd issue: Why is Aegon's power not explained well?
Answer: That's a deliberate attempt on my part. I've recently been watching videos to improve my writing, and many of those videos advise against giving too much information about your story at the beginning, as the readers apparently find it more enjoyable to figure things out on their own.
I'm not sure if I did it wrong or what, since many of you didn't seem to like this approach. But I suppose trying new things is always a bit risky because the readers might not like it. With that said, I believe it was a risk worth taking, even if I lose a few readers in the process. Because it is only by trying new things that I can improve as a writer.
3rd issue: MC did the wrong thing by refusing Rhea as he did.
Answer: Perhaps, though I still don't think he's at fault here since he never really agreed to this marriage. With that said, if you feel that he could've handled it better, then know that my MC is not going to be perfect by any measure. He'll make mistakes and fuck things up from time to time.
Also, I don't think it's as bad for Rhea as you guys are painting it out to be. Yes, it is a scandal. But most who learn of it are going to blame House Targaryen and Aegon, not her. She's still the heir of the 2nd strongest house in Vale, so she'll still have a long line of suiters asking for her hand.
Not to mention, part of the reason why this marriage even took place was that her father is the current Regent of Vale and pulled some strings to make it possible. So it's not like her family is completely blameless in this debacle either.
(Plus, I don't think this makes him worse than Daemon. Not by a long shot. In my opinion, it's far better to stop a loveless marriage from happening in the first place than to go through with it and then suffer the consequences for decades.)
4th issue: If MC didn't like his family, then why didn't he leave?
Answer: Yes, he could have. Just like people who don't like their jobs could leave them any day. Just like people who don't like their spouse could divorce them any day. Just like people who don't like where they live could technically sell their house and move out any day.
Yes, he could've left any day he wanted. But humans tend to have a big threshold of how much bullshit they'll suffer through before they decide 'enough is enough'. And MC has not reached that threshold just yet, so he stayed.
Another reason is that his power has not yet grown to the point where he can take a group of attackers and win. (Yes, his powers grow with use. And that's all the spoiler I'll give.) So for now, he's basically just lying low and biding his time till he grows stronger.
5th issue: Why is Aegon a whiny, annoying bitch?
Answer: I don't think he is. Daemon hates MC (for killing their mother, apparently) and tries to annoy or insult him on every occasion. And since MC has made the decision to lay low, he mostly ignores Daemon's insults and lets them slide over his back.
As for MC not arguing with Jaehaerys, he knows that whatever he says to the old man, the old man won't listen. So there's not much point in trying. Plus, he's grown a bit apathetic toward his family by this point and is quickly reaching the 'I'm done with all this shit' point.
It's probably my fault for not depicting that part of MC well enough in the chapters. But that was the angle I was going for. (I mean, what author wants his MC to come off as a whiny bitch.)
6th issue: Why did MC not get a dragon?
Answer: Because MC dislikes his family enough that he has been thinking of leaving for a few years. Except if he took a dragon and left, then Jaehaerys would've sent other dragon riders after him. And knowing Daemon, that might end in a completely different Dance of Dragons. And MC doesn't hate his family enough to want to become a kinslayer.
7th issue: The readers who are threatening to drop the story.
Answer: We're still only 3.8K words into the story, and I don't think it has even really started (even though the four published chapters make it seem otherwise). Even more so because I'm trying to take things a bit slow in this story. So I'll ask for some of your patience and suggest you at least read a few more chapters before making that decision.
If by that point, you still don't like this story, then feel free to drop it. After all, we are all on this site to read fun stories and have a good time. And if a story doesn't give us that, then it's only right that we drop them. (Though, as the author, I do hope that you guys will come to enjoy this story).
With all that out of the way, let's get on with this chapter.
(One last thing. For all the readers who supported me in the comments, thank you so much. I know that authors grow from criticism, but some of the recent ones have been particularly disheartening and reading your supportive comments did a lot to improve my mood. So once again. Thanks a lot guys.)
The trunk sat open at the foot of the bed, already half-filled with his belongings. Aegon stood over it, a shirt in one hand, staring at the rest of the belongings in confusion.
It wasn't until he needed to fit his belongings within a trunk that he finally realised just how much he owned. He stood there for a moment and then shook his head. This is too much.
He did not need to take it all on his journey. And could not, as he won't have a horse to carry his luggage. He let out a quiet breath and then, with a single motion, he tipped the trunk over, spilling out its contents across his bed.
He took out a bedsheet and started filling that one instead. This time, he chose carefully and packed only the most basic of items. A single change of clothes, a waterskin, a flint, a pouch of coins, and a few other necessities.
Everything else, he would leave behind.
It felt… cathartic, to let go of so many material items. He felt as if an invisible burden he hadn't even known he'd been carrying had suddenly been put aside.
Huh… I can see why the Buddhists go on and on about being wary of material possessions if this is how good it feels to let go of them.
He tied up the bedsheet and lifted it to check its weight. Light. Even if he had the strength of an ordinary teen, he would still be able to carry it with no difficulty.
A part of him still wanted to pack more. To carry another change of clothes, a book to read while he's idle, or another pair of boots. But he ignored that part of his. Reminding himself that even in the worst-case scenarios, he had a far higher chance of survival than an ordinary man.
Should he feel cold, he could burn his body fat and increase his body temperature. Should he go hungry, he could adjust his digestive system to consume grass or even bark. Should he be injured, he could heal himself. Should he be chased by slavers or even Dothraki, he could run and leave them behind with his nigh limitless stamina.
All in all, the odds of him dying in Essos were far lower than those of an ordinary man. Not to say that he couldn't die. His Shaper was still pretty weak in that regard. But even a weakened Shaper power had infinite uses.
Finally, he set down the bundle and reached for his leather armour. It was a bit small on his frame, as he had been given the armour as a gift a year ago and had since outgrown it. But it still protected him well enough.
The best part was that it wasn't needlessly ostentatious. Yes, it did look like high-quality work, which it was. But aside from that, it was pretty unremarkable. No ornamentation, no sigil that screamed Targaryen. Unlike Daemon's
Aegon fastened it around his form before wearing his boots. And finally, he placed the sword and scabbard on his belt. He was not used to carrying his sword at all times, but he was well aware that Essos would not be as safe for him as Westeros was, especially if he hid his true identity.
With all his preparations made, there was only one thing left to do.
He went in front of a mirror and looked at his features. Silver hair. Pale eyes. Such features were not so uncommon in Essos. Especially if you went to Lys, but he would rather not give away his identity if possible, lest someone tries to kidnap him for ransom.
With a thought, his hair started to grow, but unlike his usual hair, his newly grown hair was filled with Melanin, and thus looked muted brown. Once it reached the desired length, he took a blade and cut off the tell-tale silver, leaving only the common brown behind.
Good.
He gathered the discarded silver and cast it into the hearth. As the flames took hold, Aegon watched the strands shrivel and vanish, a final, flickering end to the life he had known. It was time to shed his identity as a Targaryen prince and discover the real him, whatever that meant.
He supposed he would find his answer on the road ahead.
A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts. When he opened it, he found Baelon Targaryen standing outside.
His father's gaze went first to his face, then lingered on his hair.
"I dyed it," Aegon said, "Didn't want to bring further shame to the family with my actions." Nor do I want to be targeted for ransom.
His father gave a slow nod. "May I?"
Aegon stepped back, letting his father in. The man's presence felt unfamiliar in his room. And he realised then that he couldn't remember the last time the man had actually come to visit him here.
Baelon stopped near the bed, eyes falling on the small bundle he'd prepared. "So little?" He asked, frowning.
Aegon shrugged. "I've seen sellswords travel with far less."
"You are not a sellsword," Baelon replied.
'Not yet.' He wanted to say, if only to needle his father about his exile. But he chose not to.
"No, I'm not," he said instead.
Silence settled between them. His father looked around the chamber, appearing uncharacteristically lost for words, until at last, he found his voice.
"I have not been a good father."
Aegon raised an eyebrow, not expecting that.
"After Alyssa passed away… I thought…" Baelon exhaled quietly. "I thought time would… fix things. That I would… find my footing again." His jaw tightened. "I did not."
Aegon remained silent, waiting for Baelon to continue.
"Alyssa—" Baelon's voice faltered, just slightly. "When she died… I felt so lost. It felt as if life had lost its meaning. I was not there for you. Nor for your brothers. But… Viserys and Daemon had each other. You did not."
"I told myself you were strong," Baelon continued, quieter now. "That you did not need me as much." A humourless breath left him. "I can see now that it was just a convenient lie I told myself."
Aegon remained silent, though he felt a flicker of respect for Baelon's self-awareness. Most men live and die without ever acknowledging their faults; that Baelon had done so was admirable, even if the realisation had come far too late.
Baelon reached into his belt and drew out a dagger. He held it for a moment, gazing at it fondly, before offering it to him. "This was your mother's," he said.
Aegon took it, marvelling at how light it sat in his palm. As he raised it, the steel caught the light, revealing a dark smoky pattern on the metal.
Valyrian Steel.
"I thought…" Baelon cleared his throat. "You should have it."
Aegon slid it back into its sheath and looked at his father again. "…Thank you." It was not enough to mend their relationship. Not even close. But it was… something.
Baelon nodded once. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he placed a hand on Aegon's shoulder.
The touch felt unfamiliar.
"If it becomes too much," Baelon said, meeting his eyes properly for the first time, "you can return to the Red Keep. I will speak to the king. The punishment—"
"I won't," he said before his father could continue.
Baelon paused and held his gaze for a moment longer. Then nodded again. "…I thought you might say that."
Another pause. Then, without warning, Baelon stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace.
Aegon froze. For a second, his body didn't respond. Then, slowly, awkwardly, his arms came up to return the hug.
Too late.
As they pulled apart, Baelon turned his head, but not before Aegon caught the glimmer of moisture in his eyes. His father quickly brushed it away, hiding the lapse in his composure.
"We'll meet in seven years then," Baelon said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Make them count."
Aegon inclined his head. "I will."
Baelon gave him one last look, a flicker of something like regret in his eyes, before he turned and departed. The door clicked shut with a soft, final thud, leaving Aegon alone in the sudden silence with the new dagger heavy in his hand.
Then, he reached for his bag.
Time to start his new journey. Like ReplyReport Reactions:dragonborn, TheMetalloid, Prairie_Lynx and 342 othersUnfortunate_SoulToday at 6:16 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 6- A much needed lesson New View contentUnfortunate_SoulVersed in the lewd.37 minutes agoNewAdd bookmark#407Aegon crossed the Red Keep's courtyard, a small bundle of belongings slung over his shoulder. No one spared him a second glance; his altered hair provided a mask of anonymity he hadn't expected to work so well.
As he reached the outer gate, a mix of dread and adrenaline surged through him. Beyond this threshold, his journey would begin. It would the start of a brand new life, away from his family and all their expectations.
He was steps away from freedom when a familiar, grating voice cut through the air. "Aegon."
His jaw tightened and he ground his teeth, taking a steadying breath before turning to face the one person he didn't want to see.
Daemon sauntered toward him with a lazy gait. His gaze swept over the Aegon's darkened hair, and his lips curled up in a thin, mocking smile.
"The dragonless Targaryen," Daemon drawled. "And now you've gone and shed the look of one as well. Truly fitting."
The handful of guards standing near the gate suddenly found the walls very interesting to look at.
Aegon met Daemon's gaze evenly. "What do you want, Daemon?"
"What? Can I not bid farewell to my baby brother as he scurries off into exile?" Daemon asked, his tone deceptively conversational.
"What do you want, Daemon?" He asked again.
Daemon's lips twitched, "The King gave an order. And I'm here to relay it."
Aegon tilted his head. "What order?"
"Your gold." Daemon said, his gaze sliding over to the gold purse tied to his belt. "Leave it behind."
Aegon paused. He knew that Jaehaerys was an asshole but he hadn't expected this level of pettiness from him. Or… "Did his grace really give such an order? Or are you just making shit up?" He asked.
Daemon's smile took a cruel edge. "Why don't you go back and ask grandfather yourself."
His lips pressed thin. They both knew he wouldn't do that.
Aegon exhaled slowly and reached for his purse.
"Wait," Daemon said. "I find myself afflicted with a rare bout of generosity today. Keep the purse."
"…you? Generous? Forgive me if I don't believe that."
Daemon's smile widened sharply. "Indeed. Such kindness is never truly free, is it? You shall have to do something for me in return."
"What?" He asked, and knew that he'd made a mistake the moment he asked that question. He should've known better.
Daemon's smile stretched thin, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "All you have to do..." He paused, his words slow and deliberate, as if savouring the humiliation. "Is crawl your way through that gate instead of walking. Do that, and the gold is yours."
Silence fell. The guards, servants, and the high-born lords scattered across the courtyard, eavesdropping on them, all went still. Near the gate, the sentries shifted uncomfortably, but Aegon paid them no mind. His eyes were locked on Daemon, and for the first time, he saw him. Truly saw him.
The bone-deep arrogance, the effortless cruelty, the clear hatred for him, and the unshakable certainty of a man who believed himself untouchable.
Of course, Aegon thought, a sharp chuckle leaving his lips. Why wouldn't he believe himself untouchable? He has always been the darling of the family. And thanks to my own meddling, he even escaped his marriage with Rhea Royce and ended up marrying a princess of Valyrian Blood. Why shouldn't he be arrogant?
But for the first time, the thought of such blatant favouritism didn't bring despair. Instead, a dark amusement bubbled up inside him until his quiet chuckles erupted into full-blown, manic laughter.
The courtyard was frozen as the guards, the lords, the servants, all stared at him in confusion.
"What are you laughing about?" Daemon asked, tilting his head.
"I am laughing," Aegon said, "because I've just realised I no longer have any reason to hold back." As the words left him, the invisible chains he had worn for years finally shattered, and a rush of absolute, untethered freedom flooded his chest.
No more hiding. No more laying low. It's about time the world sees me for who I am.
Daemon's eyes narrowed. "...what?"
Aegon didn't answer with words. Instead, he exploded into motion. One moment he was standing still; the next, his fist collided with Daemon's nose in a blur of motion. A sickening, wet crack echoed through the courtyard, sharp enough to make every man present flinch.
"Holy shit!"
"Did he just—"
"The princes are fighting! Someone call the Kingsguard!"
Daemon staggered, blood blooming across his face before his mind could even register the blow.
Aegon gave him no room to breathe. He surged forward, closing the distance between them again. Daemon's hand lunged for the hilt of his sword, but Aegon was faster. He caught the wrist, twisting and yanking with a brutal, leveraged strength. A sickening pop rang out, and Daemon's breath hitched in a sharp hiss as his shoulder dislocated, his arm falling useless at his side.
Aegon drove a knee upward, connecting with brutal precision between Daemon's legs.
A strangled, breathless wheeze escaped Daemon as his face contorted, his body folding in on itself like a collapsing tent. Aegon released his grip, and the Rogue Prince dropped heavily to his knees in the dirt.
Aegon took a step back, the ghost of every insult and every humiliating defeat in the training yard rushing back to him. He gathered years of bottled resentment and channeled it into a single, savage arc, as his boot caught Daemon square in the face.
The impact snapped Daemon's head back with a sickening crunch. Shards of teeth and a spray of blood painted the stones. For a heartbeat, the prince's head lolled aimlessly; then, his body gave way, and the Rogue Prince crumpled into a slack, motionless heap on the ground.
Aegon stood over his brother, his breath coming in ragged, heavy draws. He looked down at Daemon's ruined face and wondered, with a cold detachment, if that kick had killed the bastard. He hadn't used his full strength, but he'd never planted a boot into a man's face before either.
The realisation hit him then: the prospect of Daemon's death didn't turn his stomach. In fact, it felt like... nothing at all.
If they name me kinslayer, let them. I no longer care.
A sudden, shuddering gasp broke the silence. Daemon's chest began to heave in a jagged, unconscious rhythm, his body clinging stubbornly to life. Aegon looked down at the broken prince and let out a short, sharp scoff.
The courtyard had fallen into a tomb-like silence. From the lowest servant to the highest knight, they stood frozen, watching the Rogue Prince learn the lesson their father never had the spine to teach: Don't be an asshole. Especially not to a man with nothing left to lose.
The sound of armoured boots rang out against the stone as two Kingsguard rushed toward the carnage. Aegon scoffed, reaching into his belt to produce the heavy purse of gold. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed it. The heavy leather purse struck Daemon's bloodied face with a sickening thud, drawing a pathetic, low groan from the unconscious man.
"Keep it," Aegon called out, his voice steady and cold. "I don't need your strings anymore."
Without waiting for the White Swords to reach him, he turned his back on the Red Keep and stepped through the gates, leaving the only home he'd ever known in this life behind for good. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Valor, HSNAR, Prairie_Lynx and 105 othersUnfortunate_Soul37 minutes agoNewAdd bookmarkView discussionJump to newThreadmarksView content
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