"We are brothers," Aegon said, his voice firm but low, carrying the weight of long habit. "I will not have either of you face Rhaenyra alone."
Daeron groaned softly, leaning back in his chair, while Aemond stood with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the window as if the matter bored him.
"Even if it comes to single combat," Aegon went on, lifting a finger to forestall interruption, "such a duel should be between me and Rhaenyra alone. Not you. Dragon battle is no knight's tourney. One mistake, one moment of pride, and you are ash."
He paused, looking from one brother to the other, his gaze lingering with quiet insistence.
"Always place your own life first."
The words were measured, controlled, and painfully familiar. He had spoken them so many times that even he was tired of hearing them.
Daeron rolled his shoulders and waved a dismissive hand. "Got it, got it. Protect myself, think first, act later. You have said it a hundred times. A thousand, even."
Aegon's brow twitched.
"For matters that threaten life," he said evenly, "there is no such thing as too many reminders. A thousand times is not excessive. Ten thousand would still not be enough."
Daeron winced dramatically, clapping his hands over his ears. "Seven save me, make it stop." He hopped to his feet and scurried toward the table, dragging the fruit platter closer with exaggerated effort. "Not listening. Not listening. You sound like a tortoise chanting septon's prayers."
He stuffed a grape into his mouth as if to punctuate the insult.
Aemond's lips twitched.
But Aegon did not smile.
His eyes narrowed, and without a word he reached down and lifted a slender wooden stick that had been propped against the wall, forgotten after some earlier lesson. His movements were calm, almost leisurely.
Daeron was too busy chewing to notice.
Outside the tall windows, a silver moon hung over the sea, pale and watchful. Stars glittered in quiet abundance, indifferent to princely quarrels.
Aegon stepped closer.
Still Daeron did not turn.
The sound that followed shattered the stillness.
By the time Ser Arryk and Ser Kraken reached the doors of the hall, they heard Daeron's cries echoing down the corridor.
They exchanged a glance.
Kraken lifted a hand and knocked once, sharp and respectful. When no answer came, he pushed the door open.
Inside, Daeron lay sprawled across Princess Helaena's lap, his face red and wet with tears, clutching at her skirts as though the world itself had wronged him. He sobbed loudly, each breath hitching.
Helaena stroked his hair with gentle patience, her expression distant but kind.
Kraken pressed his lips together, fighting a smile.
"Your Highness," he said carefully, bowing his head. "What happened?"
Aegon stood near the table, setting the stick aside with deliberate care. His expression was one of mild surprise, as though he had only just noticed the chaos.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he replied. "Perfectly normal."
Kraken's eyes flicked downward.
Arryk, less disciplined, allowed his gaze to linger a heartbeat longer. His eyelid twitched.
The welts on Daeron's backside were unmistakable. Neatly spaced, vividly red, each strike delivered with equal measure and unmistakable intent. It seemed Daeron was given some affection today.
Arryk cleared his throat and looked away.
"Let us not dwell on it," Aegon said briskly, as though the matter bored him. "Helaena, take Daeron back to his chambers. He will not be fit for conversation tonight."
Helaena nodded, rising carefully and helping Daeron to his feet. He hissed at every step, teeth clenched, tears still clinging to his lashes.
She guided him toward the stairs, murmuring soft reassurances that only she could give.
Once they were gone, Aegon turned back to the knights.
"Sit," he said. "There are matters to discuss."
The three took their places around the round table.
Kraken poured wine with practiced ease, filling Aegon's cup first, then Arryk's. "Please speak, Your Highness."
Aegon lifted the cup, took a slow sip, then set it down.
"There are two matters," he said. "The first is personal. You may refuse it if you wish."
Kraken straightened at once. "Your Highness, you need only speak. We will do all in our power to meet your request."
Arryk nodded in agreement.
"Aemond and Daeron are no longer boys," Aegon said. "I intend for them to serve as your squires."
Arryk blinked. "As our squires?"
Kraken nearly spilled his wine. "Your Highness, that is unthinkable. Our birth is too humble. Princes of the blood should return to King's Landing and serve the Hand or His Majesty himself."
"Do not refuse so quickly," Aegon said, lifting a hand. "Hear me out. What follows is not to be spoken beyond this room."
Kraken hesitated, then nodded. "Please continue."
"My brothers do not wish to return to King's Landing," Aegon said plainly. "And truth be told, His Majesty's favor lies clearly with Princess Rhaenyra and her eldest son."
He leaned back, fingers steepled. "I see no reason to send them into a court where they will learn little besides caution and resentment."
Silence settled over the table.
"I intend to take control of the Triarchy and the Disputed Lands," Aegon continued, his voice steady. "Myr will be entrusted to Aemond. Lys to Daeron. They will learn governance not from books or courtiers, but from necessity."
Kraken's breath caught.
"To rule," Aegon went on, "is not merely to command armies. Which brings me to the second matter."
He leaned forward, eyes alight.
"I will establish a Round Table Council. Eighteen seats. Six principal offices, and twelve deputies."
And then, with deliberate care, Aegon laid out his design.
Councillor of Military Affairs. Councillor of Coin. Councillor of Law. Councillor of Land Affairs. Councillor of Works. Councillor of Appointments.
Six pillars.
Each with two deputies, empowered not merely to assist, but to restrain.
Kraken and Arryk listened in growing silence.
Some roles they understood. Standing armies required oversight. Coin and law mirrored the Small Council.
But Land Affairs? Works? Appointments?
Arryk finally spoke. "Your Highness, may I ask for clarification?"
Aegon gestured toward the door. "Wine and food," he called. "Quickly."
When the servants returned, he spoke at length.
Land Affairs would oversee surveys, households, levies, marriages.
Works would command roads, ports, irrigation, reclamation, and military farms.
Appointments would recruit and judge the countless officials required to make such a system live.
By the time the candles burned low, all three were weary.
At last, Aegon rose.
"That is enough for tonight. Go and rest. I will think further."
After they departed, Aegon stood alone, gazing at the dark sea beyond the windows.
Unimportant lands could be granted as fiefs.
But Drakoncrest, and the fertile Disputed Lands, demanded more.
Not feudal chaos. Not blind central rule.
Something new. Something that could endure a millenia.
And slowly, step by step, he would build it.
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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!!