The seventh day of the second month, 114 AC—a date destined to be etched into the Citadel's scrolls in ink and blood.
Aegon stood upon the battlements of the Red Keep, his golden doublet catching the pale morning light. Beside him, Helaena and Aemond were silent statues, their eyes fixed on the horizon of Blackwater Bay.
The fleet appeared first, a forest of masts bearing the silver seahorse of House Velaryon. But it was the sky that truly trembled. A roar like muffled thunder cracked the clouds, and then she appeared: Vhagar. She was a flying mountain of hoary scales and ancient malice, so vast that her shadow swallowed whole city blocks as she passed.
Following in her wake was Meleys, the Red Queen, her scarlet scales and pink membranes flashing like a fresh wound against the blue, her bronze horns gleaming. And lastly, the smaller, nimble Seasmoke, a pale silver-grey streak in the air.
"Terrifying," Aegon murmured, his voice barely a breath. "Family strength, limitless wealth, the greatest fleet in the world, and three dragons. What else is left to want?"
Viserys had promised the throne to Rhaenyra's children by Laenor, yet he had been dangerously vague on the matter of the name. If the Crown passed to a boy born of this union, would he be a Targaryen or a Velaryon? It was a decade-long game of cyvasse between the King and the Sea Snake. If Viserys flickered out while Corlys still drew breath, the Iron Throne might very well change its surname to Velaryon.
"The throne," Helaena whispered softly, her eyes distant. She turned without another word and began to descend the stairs.
Aegon shook himself from his reverie and followed. As the King's eldest son, the laws of etiquette—if not the laws of succession—demanded he be there to welcome the power that threatened to eclipse his own.
The massive Sea Snake docked with an arrogant thud, its silk banners snapping in the wind. Viserys stepped forward with a strained smile to greet Corlys Velaryon.
The dragons did not bank for the Dragonpit. Instead, they settled on the cliffs outside the Red Keep, their weight making the very foundation of the city groan. Sunfyre, who had been napping in the sun, cracked one golden eye to survey the newcomers. He didn't hiss or rise; he simply coiled tighter and went back to sleep, displaying a regal indifference that bordered on insult.
Laenor Velaryon dismounted Seasmoke and joined his mother, Rhaenys, his eyes widening as they landed on the Golden. "He is massive," Laenor noted, gesturing toward Sunfyre. "I recall he hatched six years after Seasmoke, yet he looks nearly twice the size."
Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, narrowed her eyes. She had heard the whispers—that the Prince's dragon grew at a rate that defied nature. "Perhaps he intends to rival the Black Dread," she remarked with a cold chuckle. She didn't truly fear the golden drake; her Meleys was the swiftest beast alive, and Vhagar... Vhagar was a god of war.
Laena joined them, her hand resting on the hilt of a dragon-bone dagger. "A beautiful creature," she admitted, "but Seasmoke has a finer grace." She pulled Laenor along to pay respects to the King, their future father-in-law.
Aegon watched from the periphery as Corlys and Viserys exchanged practiced pleasantries. Corlys spoke loudly of how his wife and children insisted on flying to the capital to show the "union of true dragon blood" and to "deter those with malicious intentions."
Aegon almost laughed aloud. It was a masterpiece of political theater—a blunt display of military might masquerading as a plea for stability. As Corlys spoke, his gaze drifted pointedly toward Alicent, his eyes practically screaming accusations of her ambition.
"If only Grandfather Otto were still Hand," Aegon muttered under his breath. "He'd have a sharp retort for that arrogant look."
Alicent's hand clamped down on Aegon's, her fingers digging into his palm. "Silence," she breathed, her face a mask of courtly neutrality.
She knew the stakes. This marriage marked the zenith of the Black Party. With Vhagar, Meleys, and Seasmoke, the Velaryons held the leash of the realm's power.
Corlys eventually maneuvered his way toward Alicent. "Lady Alicent, I trust Ser Laenor will make a... dutiful husband."
Alicent smiled, though her eyes remained cold. "I believe he shall. And I trust the Princess Rhaenyra will be a virtuous wife and a qualified Queen."
The counter-thrust was immediate. Corlys's smile sharpened. "Indeed. A Queen of the Iron Throne, the rightful heir." He turned his attention to Aegon. "And this must be Prince Aegon. I hear your dragon grows so fast he might swallow Balerion's legend whole."
Aegon snapped into his role, offering a polite, boyish smile. "Lord Corlys, you flatter me. No dragon can surpass the Black Dread. He is the stuff of songs." He looked up at Viserys with a well-timed look of adoration. "I need only ask my father; he was the last to ride that legendary beast."
Viserys, feeling the warmth of his son's praise, straightened his back. "Quite right! Balerion was a titan. He could swallow a mammoth whole!"
"Is that so?" Corlys asked with feigned surprise. "My daughter tells me Vhagar is already reaching that scale. But then, I am no rider; I likely misjudge the heights."
Viserys felt a sharp prick of irritation. Vhagar was 165 years old—the largest living weapon in the world. And she belonged to the Velaryons.
He looked at Aegon, seeing the sharp, intelligent light in his son's eyes and the golden dragon resting nearby. For a fleeting, treasonous second, a wave of hesitation crashed over Viserys.
What if? What if he had wed Aegon to Laena instead? The age gap was wide, but not unheard of. It would have bound the Sea Snake to his son's line. Or... what if he simply acknowledged the boy behind him as the heir the realm expected?
Viserys took a sharp, jagged breath, pushing the thought back into the dark. He had made a promise to Aemma. He had wronged her, and Rhaenyra was his living atonement. To change course now would be to invite Corlys's fleet to burn the harbor and to admit he had wed Alicent for nothing but spite.
He had inherited a peaceful kingdom. He would not be the one to break it.
"Come," Viserys said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. "There is a wedding to prepare for."