Pre-Chapter A/N: Here we go with another chapter. Does this count as a Wednesday upload? Surely it does. It's still Wednesday for like half the world. Next five chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
XXXX- AEGON TARGARYEN
Some creatures were meant for the sky. Others for the ground, and others even for the sea. Aegon and Sunfyre soundly belonged to the first camp. He had spent the first sennight of their journey at sea to Bloodstone hit with a kind of seasickness that made the sailors whisper behind his back. Every time he filled his vomit bucket and needed a man to empty it, the looks he received got worse. Never hostility, he knew. Cargyll would have gutted any man who dared to look at Aegon in such a way in a matter of seconds.
But there was a disquiet there that, despite Cargyll's constant exhortations for him to do so, he could not quite ignore. The fact that Sunfyre also hated to be on the boat and spent more time flying than he did on the ship with Aegon was another factor that added to said disquiet.
It had taken a full sennight for Aegon to be able to make it up to the deck without retching his innards out, and another sennight beyond that for Aegon to no longer need to carry around his vomit bucket. And once he reached that level of progress, Cargyll had seemingly decided to get him started from the beginning all over again.
"Get up, my Prince. You and I know I barely touched you there," the insufferably smug White Knight said from his position looming above Aegon's downed form. Aegon hated that he was right. That fall had been more from Aegon losing his footing with the ever-swaying ship than it was from Cargyll's strike.
"Up we go, my Prince." Cargyll lost his patience and reached down, grabbing Aegon's shoulder and practically hurling him to his feet.
"Another round. Can't have you arriving before one of the best swordsmen in the world barely knowing your stab from your slash, can we?" Yes, Aegon thought, but knew better than to say.
So he rose. More like he staggered to his feet, but that distinction did not profit him much to mention. He held his blade out from his body and took the stance the master at arms had drilled into him from just about when he could walk. Aegon knew he did not have much talent for swordplay. He had little interest in it either, so all the better. Aemond could beat him more often than not despite the difference in their ages. It was not much of a loss, since he did not see himself fighting in many tourneys, and if war ever came? Well, his ancestor never carried Blackfyre into battle, did he? That was what the dragons were for.
But he had no choice here and now. The Cargyll Knight would not take no for an answer, and worse than that, there was nothing better for Aegon to do. Sennights of nothing doing other than being sick had taken their toll on him. So much so that he had even gone so far as to request a book from his Maester at some time. The Maester had offered one from his collection, and then now refused to speak to Aegon. Two minutes of reading, and Aegon had vomited all over the tome.
His reputation did not even allow him to convince the man that it had been an accident. The man just remained distant and silent all the while, only looking at Aegon with barely concealed displeasure once in a while.
All his thoughts returned to combat as Cargyll began to close the distance between them. Aegon took a step backwards, near staggering as the ship chose that moment to sway—most likely beset with a powerful wave from one side. Cargyll noticed the weakness but did not attack. He allowed Aegon the chance to collect himself once again, and then came on the offensive.
Aegon grunted as blocking the overhead strike made his arms shiver and shake. Cargyll looked to have used barely any effort. He stretched out his foot quicker than Aegon could react to and swept his feet out from under him.
"Yield?" was the next thing Aegon heard, looking up at the blue sky and feeling the blunt metal of his opponent's training sword poking at his neck. He seemed to have blacked out, but only for a few seconds, as much did not seem to have changed. And surely there would have been a panic if something truly dangerous had happened.
"Yes. I yield," Aegon ground out, just barely able to rise to his feet this time.
And when he was not getting his arse handed to him over and over again in the middle of the ship's deck before an audience of sailors that he knew did not like him, but now no longer seemed to send him looks when they thought he was not paying attention or whispering about him when neither he nor his White Knight ought to have been able to hear, he was on the deck for another reason. These days, he was only in his cabin when he needed sleep or other forms of rest. Every other time, it was simply too cramped for him to get any enjoyment there.
Not when the outside had Sunfyre. His scales glinted in the sunlight like little gems bouncing the sun's rays away in all different directions. His dragon was breathtaking as he twirled and danced through the air, putting on a show for not just Aegon, but most of the sailors on the deck. Few could maintain their focus on their menial jobs and tasks when they saw a beautiful dragon right there, just waiting to be admired. And admire him they did.
Sunfyre rose in the air. Mentally, Aegon bade him to go higher and higher, and it was almost like the dragon was listening as he did so. More likely, the dragon and Aegon were of the same mind. They did both love to show off, after all. When Sunfyre had gone so high that the clouds near covered his glory, all that was visible the sunlight that reflected off of him, Aegon bade him to dive, and Sunfyre himself decided to dive at that same instant. Aegon's eyes tracked a fish just below the surface a few inches from where Sunfyre's dive would take him. If only the dragon noticed in time, this could be something beautiful, he thought.
And his thoughts were brought to fruition. At seemingly the last second, Sunfyre altered course, landing inches from where he had ought, and kicking off again. The water splashed from the disturbance, moving every which way. At the head of the splash though was Sunfyre, and in his claws, the fish. Sunfyre flew until he was above their ship, and then tossed the fish even higher into the air.
'Dracarys,' Aegon whispered to himself as his dragon unleashed his brilliant golden flames that cloaked the fish. It landed on the deck—right at Aegon's feet, little more than a charred husk. Sunfyre followed with a far more meaty thunk, making the wood of the deck groan at his arrival. He ignored it all, feasting on his catch.
Aegon could only spend so much time watching his dragon though, as he heard one of the sailors scream something. His eyes stretched out across the sea, and there in the distance, coming from either side of the two islands that they had been sailing towards, was a small fleet of ships. About sixteen of them in total. Each one larger than the ship Aegon himself stood atop, and each one bearing the seagreen seahorse of House Velaryon. This was it. The famed Velaryon fleet.
Aegon had never cared much about fleets, and even he was impressed. He knew how quickly ships ought to move. He was on top of one and had been for sennights at this point, after all. And he had grown up in King's Landing, the largest port city in all of Westeros. He knew ships well—had seen them all his life. He had even seen Velaryon ships before. But these ones put those ones to shame.
They came in from either side, swiftly encircling his own ship quicker than any of their sailors could do much more than begin to yell for everyone to comport themselves. Aegon should have felt fear in a situation like this one. Friendly flag or no, these men did have him at their mercy.
But he had a dragon. And what were ships—no matter how splendid—to the glory of a dragon? They were nothing. Still, Cargyll felt unease, and he showed it by stepping in front of Aegon and thoroughly blocking his view of proceedings. He could barely see a thing.
"Who captains this ship?" A ship had sailed right in front of them until its prow was near touching theirs. The voice seemed to be coming from that ship.
"I do," one of the sailors said, stepping forwards.
"Show me your writ of authorisation to be within these waters," the man asked. Aegon got a better look at him now as he was able to peek out from behind his White Knight. He had the silver hair of Old Valyria. From this distance, Aegon could not say about the eyes. But the armour he wore was well made, and smack dab in the middle was the Velaryon sigil. He was a direct blood relative.
"Writ of authorisation? We have nothing of the sort. We sail on the directive of the King," the captain said.
"Then the King ought to have granted you a writ. None may enter the waters of the Stepstones without such," the Velaryon man replied. Aegon ran through the family tree in his mind, trying to see which of the many Cousins or Uncles this one could be.
"We carry the Prince Aegon Targaryen. Our destination is Bloodstone, to hand him over to your Lord," Cargyll spoke out now.
"The Prince Aegon? That boy hiding behind your cloak?" the man asked. Aegon flushed, even though no one seemed to find the joke all that funny, and stepped out from behind the Knight's back.
The Velaryon looked at him for a few seconds before nodding.
"As you carry no writ, we must search your cargo, and we will be escorting you to Bloodstone. I am sure none of you mind," the man said, and was already walking back before anyone could reply either way.
The sailors did not seem too pleased about having their ship boarded and searched, but much like their general displeasure with Aegon, this dissatisfaction would find no outlet. The Velaryon fleet surrounded, outnumbered, and outmatched them, and resistance would have been suicide, whether they had a Prince of the Blood onboard or not. Aegon himself did not mind it much. Perhaps it was because he finally got to see someone giving the sailors whose displeasure had stung at his turned back being put in their rightful place. Perhaps it was just the fact that their presence here now meant they were that much closer to their eventual goal already. Perhaps it was neither—or both of them at the same time.
Perhaps it did not even matter. All that mattered was that Aegon received an invitation from one of the Velaryon sailors while the search proceeded. An invitation to break bread with the Velaryon in charge of this fleet. It was not an opportunity he would miss. They probably had better food than he did. A fleet of this size and so close to their main port would be well-provisioned. Aegon had been forced to contend with eating dried food that did not need to be cooked or prepared much and stood little risk of spoiling for most of the trip. Eating food prepared on a ship was a good way to catch disease. But the Velaryons would have figured out a way around that, and no one would be fool enough to invite a Prince if the risk was non-existent.
Cargyll seemed to agree with Aegon's reasoning, even as he led the way across the bridge to the next ship with little delay. The rope bridge that had been drawn between the boats shook somewhat with Aegon's weight on it. But he felt no fear. This was no true height. He was a Targaryen—born to fly through the skies themselves and make them his domain. The risk of falling into the ocean barely even seemed to be real to him. He made his way across in less than half the time that Cargyll had taken on the same journey, and accepted the hands that reached over to pull him over the last bit. Sunfyre just leaned on the prow of the Royal ship and pushed off.
He jumped, flapping his wings twice to help make the distance, and landed on the Velaryon ship seconds later. The whispers that followed his landing caused a smile to grow on Aegon's face. Yes, he is a beautiful dragon. Yes, you ought to worship him, he thought smugly. At least he did until he finally got to hear what was being said on his way below the deck.
"I did not know they made 'em that small. That's a dragon for real?" one asked the other, who seemed equally as dimwitted.
"I've seen the Lord's and Lady's, and they're like mountains. This one can't be a dragon. Something this small could never grow that large," the other replied even as they began to fall out of audible range. He had to resist the temptation to follow them and point out just how wrong they were.
They were wrong. Sunfyre would be bigger and more beautiful than silly Vhagar, or silly Igneel, or whatever other dragon they had seen before. Sunfyre would outshine them all in time. No, Sunfyre already did. He did. He moved down the deck, following Cargyll and the sailors that led them until they reached a wooden door. The sailor knocked. Aegon did not hear the words that came from behind the door, but they must have asked for them to come in, as the sailor opened the door and waved Aegon and his Knight in.
Both of them got in, the Knight first, hand near his blade but not on it. He was on guard but did not need to communicate it to their host. A host who sat in front of a rich spread of breads, meats, fishes, even fruits. It was a rich meal. The kind of meal Aegon would not have been surprised to have been served for lunch back in the Red Keep, but made all the more special by their location. They were on a ship, after all. And having this sort of food on a ship said something about the man who hosted them. A man who had changed out of the armour he had met them in. Now he stood in fine silks that would not have been out of place among the nobility of King's Landing. He wore it well, easily showing himself to be one of the most handsome men Aegon had ever seen.
"Welcome, my Prince, good Ser. Please do make yourselves at home. Help yourselves to anything and everything that catches your fancy. At sea for so long, I cannot imagine the food has been much to write home about," he said, and with that invitation given, Aegon walked over, taking a seat and beginning to cut into some chicken. It had been too long since he had real food in his mouth. Far too long.
"You are yet to introduce yourself, my Lord." Cargyll stood at Aegon's back, making no move towards the food.
"Oh, had I not? I apologise for the rudeness. None was intended, I assure you. I had just assumed my reputation would precede me," he said with a smile Aegon noted between slicing at his chicken.
"It has not," Cargyll just said.
"I am Castor Velaryon, son of Aurion, son of Corwyn. Nephew to Corlys, and Cousin to Laenor Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, the Tides, Bloodstone, and the Unified Stepstones," he said, reading out the titles with the same tone that Aegon used when Orwyle was forcing him to say something he had long since learned and moved on from.
"Well met, my Lord," Cargyll said. Aegon just nodded, mouth too busy trying to chew his way through the larger than sensible helping he had just taken. If Mother was here, she would rap his knuckles for the rudeness, but Aegon could not bring himself to care. It had been an eternity since he got to have good food like this.
"Now, my Prince. I am told you will be beginning to Squire under my Cousin. Do you find yourself looking forward to it?" he asked.
Aegon nodded, still chewing his way through his mouth's content. His cheeks were no longer bulging to an obscene level, so things were much better now.
"Indeed. However, my Cousin does tend to be a very exacting teacher, so if you do find yourself in need of any tutelage or mentorship, or even just an ear to talk to about anything at all, please do not hesitate to seek me out. Just ask anyone for Castor, and I am sure you will be guided appropriately," he said with a wide smile. Aegon nodded, not sure he needed that, but he would take it.
"Good. Now please don't let me disturb your lunch. Keep going," he said. Aegon did not need such prompting though. Nothing would be stopping him.
A/N: One transitional one before back on Bloodstone, eh? Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.