Drakoncrest.
The sun sank toward the sea like a bleeding wound, its dying light spilling crimson across the jagged stone of the island.
Sunfyre touched down first, his golden wings folding with regal precision as his talons scraped against the dark rock. Sheepstealer followed soon after, landing with a heavier, more feral grace. Where once torn scales and scorched flesh had marred the brown dragon's hide, now there were only faint scars. The wounds he had taken earlier in the campaign had already healed, as if the creature itself refused to remember pain for long.
Prince Aegon dismounted slowly, muscles aching beneath his riding leathers. Since leaving Tyrosh, he had taken Hugh Hammer with him across the skies, scouring the Stepstones for lingering pirate banners or Dornish sails. They had flown until the sun dipped low, the sea below turning black and red like cooling blood.
He rolled his shoulders once, then spoke without turning his head.
"You still lack patience in the air," Aegon said evenly. "Strength alone is not enough. From now on, you will take over the regular patrols of the Stepstones."
Hugh stiffened, then bowed his head. "As you command, Your Highness."
"It will also give Aemond and Daeron time to return to their studies," Aegon continued. "They cannot remain in the saddle forever."
Aemond was ten this year, old enough to begin the life of a squire. Such boys rose before dawn, learned to clean mail until their fingers ached, to tend horses, sharpen swords, care for hounds and hawks, and absorb the ideals of knighthood through discipline rather than words.
Daeron, newly six, stood at the proper age for a page. He should have been memorizing courtesies, learning how to pour wine without spilling a drop, how to speak little and listen much.
And Tessarion.
Aegon's gaze drifted briefly to the sky, where the blue dragon's silhouette still seemed etched into memory. Daeron's mount had left a deep and unmistakable impression on Lys. Even if the boy returned to King's Landing, it would not disrupt Aegon's designs there.
Boots crunched on gravel behind him.
"Your Highness." Kraken approached, bowing low. "The temporary main house is finished. The Princess had your belongings moved in at once."
Aegon turned, surprise flickering across his face. "Already?"
Kraken grinned. "By the Seven, I thought I would die in that tent. It feels like a miracle to sleep under a roof again."
Aegon laughed softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "A miracle indeed."
Kraken hesitated, then cleared his throat. "There is one more matter, Your Highness."
"Speak."
"We are short on oxen. Worse still, we lack proper farm tools. The pace of clearing the land is far slower than expected."
Aegon's smile faded. He nodded, already weighing the problem.
Land reclamation demanded fire, stone-clearing, deep plowing, and careful leveling. Without iron tools and draft animals, even the strongest backs would need months to make fertile ground from Dragonstone's stubborn earth.
"Then raise the priority of the ironworks," Aegon said at once. "Send envoys to the Seven Kingdoms. Purchase plows, sickles, spades, oxen, and young livestock. Pay well, and pay quickly."
Kraken listened intently.
"The population here will only grow," Aegon went on. "Every shortage will worsen if we delay. Prepare now."
He began walking toward the newly built manor as he spoke, boots striking stone with steady purpose.
"Assign two thousand men to reclaim land in the North and East districts. The rest will begin construction on the western port. From this day onward, port labor will run in three watches."
Kraken blinked. "Even after sunset?"
"Yes," Aegon replied without hesitation. "Those on the night watch will receive two meals. One shall include salted meat at no cost. I will not have men worked to death like beasts."
Kraken bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Highness."
They had reached the manor.
It stood solid and plain, built of dark stone rather than marble or gilded brick. No soaring towers, no banners heavy with gold. Yet it was strong, and it was theirs.
"Aegon. Here."
Aegon looked up.
On the second floor balcony, Helaena leaned over the railing, waving both hands with unrestrained joy. The dying sun caught her pale hair, turning silver to molten gold.
Beside her stood Aemond, one hand already reaching for Daeron. The younger boy wriggled in protest until he heard Helaena's voice, at which point he surrendered entirely, allowing his face to be kneaded like dough. Even so, he waved furiously with one small hand.
Aemond pinched Daeron's cheek with exaggerated force, then lifted his free hand to greet Aegon, his grin sharp and proud.
Aegon felt something loosen in his chest. He lifted his arm and waved back.
"I'm coming," he called.
This house was not merely shelter. It was refuge. A place untouched by whispers of succession and poisoned smiles.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The hall was modest, furnished simply. No Iron Throne loomed here, no vaulted ceilings meant to dwarf men into obedience. Tapestries from Myr adorned the walls, each carefully chosen. Sunfyre gleamed in gold thread. Dreamfyre soared in pale blue. Vhagar loomed vast and terrible. Tessarion danced through clouds of sapphire silk.
Daeron thundered down the stairs.
He took the last five steps in a reckless leap, arms outstretched like a dragon in flight.
Aegon's breath caught. He lurched forward, barely managing to catch the boy before they both tumbled.
"Seven hells," Aegon muttered, gripping Daeron tight. "Warn me next time."
Daeron laughed, wrapping his arms around Aegon's neck. "Brother. My room is opposite Sister's. Aemond's is across from mine, and yours is next to us."
Aemond came down more slowly, scowling. "Only because Helaena favors him. I won fair and square."
Aegon raised a brow. "Won what?"
"The five-in-a-row game you taught us," Aemond said stiffly. "Best of three. I won twice. Then he cheated."
Aegon burst into laughter.
No wonder Aemond had been so eager to take revenge on Daeron's face.
Helaena followed them down, hands folded, expression helpless but fond. "You are older, Aemond. Daeron is much younger. It is only right to indulge him a little."
Aemond snorted, folding his arms. "Indulging is one thing. Cheating is another."
Daeron only grinned, unrepentant.
Aegon watched them all, warmth spreading through him. Then his expression shifted.
"Some days ago," he said carefully, "Mother wrote to me."
The room quieted.
"She believes Aemond and Daeron should return to King's Landing. To serve as squire and page."
Daeron froze. His smile vanished. "No."
He shook his head violently. "I won't go back."
His voice rose, indignant. "King's Landing is dull. The Red Keep is worse."
He hunched his shoulders, deepening his voice in mockery. "Prince, do you know how many years of history the Citadel has?"
Aegon snorted.
"I don't want to spend my days listening to dusty old maesters," Daeron said, clutching Aegon's sleeve. His eyes shone, suddenly earnest. "Brother, if I had never come to the Stepstones, maybe I could endure it. But you cannot send me back now."
Aegon lifted a finger and tapped Daeron gently on the forehead. "Do not imitate me."
Then he smiled. "And I never said I would send you back."
Daeron's eyes widened. "Truly?"
"You will not return to King's Landing," Aegon said. "But you will still learn."
Daeron sagged with relief, then pouted. "Very well."
"If you do not study," Helaena said lightly, "you will grow into a fool. Aegon once read until candle smoke filled the room, pestering the maesters without mercy."
Aegon chuckled. "She speaks true."
He straightened, his tone turning firm.
"Aemond will serve as Ser Arryk's squire. Daeron, you will serve under Ser Kraken. You may skip the page stage."
Both boys stiffened.
"They are both fine knights," Aegon continued. "Learn well. I will need you both."
His voice lowered.
"What is mine will not be taken quietly."
Aemond's hand curled into a fist.
Daeron lifted his chin, blue eyes fierce despite his youth.
"Do not worry, Brother," Daeron said earnestly. "Tessarion grows stronger every day."
His lips curved into a confident smile that did not belong to a child.
"Give me five years," he said, voice steady. "I am certain I can tear Rhaenyra and her Syrax apart in single combat."
They all fell silent.
Aegon studied his brothers, then nodded once.
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A/N:
Read ahead on Patreon, 22 advance chapters available, with the first 2 free.
patreon.com/Captain_Lag
Also a little announcement-I just released a new fanfic, Dance of the Dragons: Reborn as Aegon the Dragonbane, So do check it out!
that's it I guess, happy reading!!