Aegon

Under the vast arched dome of the Dragonpit, afternoon.

When Aegon Targaryen landed on Sunfyre, the gust kicked up dust from the ground, and several nearby Dragonkeepers stumbled back.

Aegon had not seen his dragon in nearly half a year. The moment he returned to King's Landing, without even shedding his travel gear, he came straight here.

As he slid down from Sunfyre's broad golden back, his steps were unsteady from haste, and he nearly stumbled on landing—only catching himself by bracing against his beloved dragon's warm foreleg.

Sunfyre—this magnificent Gold Dragon, over thirty meters in length, with a wingspan that could stretch beyond fifty meters.

He lowered his head, his molten-gold eyes gazing tenderly at his master, gently rubbing his golden-scaled snout against Aegon's shoulder, a low rumble vibrating from his throat.

Aegon let out a long breath. Only on dragonback, among the clouds, did he find any respite.

"Good lad, you're the only one who gets me," he murmured, patting Sunfyre's hard scales before turning around.

Then he froze in place.

There, on the open ground lit by daylight at the Dragonpit's exit, he saw that figure.

Aemond.

His brother stood sideways, holding a large chunk of dark red raw meat.

To Aemond's left was Vhagar, resting like a black-brown mountain, the old dragon dozing with closed eyes.

To his right, a jet-black young dragon, about three meters long, with faint dark red gleams shimmering at the edges of its scales, was nuzzling Aemond's hand affectionately.

It snatched the meat from his palm, its sharp teeth tearing with a faint ripping sound.

Aegon stared in shock.

One man, two dragons...

He didn't understand. How was this possible?

Couldn't a dragon only have one rider?

Aemond had long sensed his arrival but didn't turn around, still focused on feeding the Black Dragon cub.

Aegon steadied himself, forcing his feet forward, his boot soles crunching over fine sand and ash.

"How did you do that?" he asked, curiosity creeping in.

"One man... riding two dragons?"

Aemond still didn't turn, his voice flat and calm: "Back in King's Landing, and you don't go to the Red Keep? Not to see our mother, who's missed you for half a year? Instead, you come to the Dragonpit."

"Aegon, in your heart, is Sunfyre warmer than the sleepless nights of a mother's worry?"

Those few light words pierced through Aegon's forced facade in an instant. His face flushed hot: "Since when do my affairs warrant your meddling? Who do you think you are?"

Only then did Aemond slowly turn around.

His gaze lingered on Aegon's slightly pale complexion, the faint shadows under his eyes, and his still-unsteady steps.

"Tch..."

"Flying drunk? That unnecessary sharp turn Sunfyre made up there—almost threw you from the reins, didn't it?"

Aemond tilted his head slightly, assessing: "Unsteady on your feet? Seems life on Tidepool Island had its own flavor?"

"You!" Aegon, stung by this observation, was a mix of shame and fury. "And whose fault is it that I've fallen to this?!"

"Wasn't it you who stirred up trouble on Tidepool Island, costing Jacaerys an eye?"

"Would I have been held there as a hostage?"

"You?" Aemond let out a soft laugh.

"I'd say you were quite at ease on Tidepool Island. No one to rein you in, free to do as you pleased."

"Isn't that the life you've always dreamed of?"

"Aemond!" Aegon's face turned crimson, the embarrassment of being fully seen through spilling out. "How I live is my business!"

"What right does a Second Son have to lecture me?"

"Second Son?" Aemond said flatly.

"My birth order matters little."

"What matters is you, Aegon Targaryen—whether you still remember the name you bear, and the duty on your shoulders."

"Name? Duty? Ha!" Aegon laughed as if hearing the world's most absurd joke. The frustration of being held captive, mixed with lingering alcohol, made him reckless.

"Fuck the Greens' eldest son! Whoever wants it can take it!"

"She promised me herself—if I stay out of trouble and don't get in her way, she'll grant me a prince's title and a rich fief!"

"If you want to fight over that chair, kill each other over it—that's your affair!"

"Don't drag me into it!"

In the distance, the Dragonkeepers had long stopped their work, watching nervously, but none dared approach.

Aemond stared at him in silence for several heartbeats, stirring an inexplicable dread in Aegon's chest.

Then, Aemond let out a sudden scoff. His gaze slid past Aegon, landing on the golden dragon behind him—a creature whose dazzling beauty remained undimmed even in the dim light.

"Sunfyre..."

"Truly magnificent."

"When you spread your wings, you could stain the very sky gold."

His tone shifted. His eyes returned to Aegon's face, cold and flat. "Pity, though. Blind enough to follow a... waste."

"Waste?!" The word struck like a red-hot brand, searing Aegon's most fragile, sensitive pride.

He lunged forward several steps, reaching out to grab Aemond's collar. "You dare call me a waste?! Aemond! You're nothing but a..."

Before he could finish, Aemond merely twisted his wrist. A casual push and deflection.

Aegon felt a surge of force. With a startled cry, he stumbled backward and crashed onto the cold, rough ground.

Before he could rise.

"Ss—gah!"

A short, vicious hiss erupted without warning!

The black dragonet Lothron, who had been docilely curled at Aemond's feet, moved without a hint of warning!

He snapped his wings open. His small frame exploded with terrifying speed and power, a black lightning bolt skimming the ground. Head lowered, he rammed into Aegon, who was just pushing himself up.

"Thud!"

A dull impact. Aegon felt a heavy blow to his chest and abdomen. His vision went dark. He flew backward again, hit the ground, his spine jarring with pain.

Before he could react, an even more suffocating pressure descended.

Lothron had already pinned his chest and shoulder with foreclaws covered in fine black scales. One claw rested beside his cheek.

The dragonet's body had him completely subdued.

That savage black head lowered. Hot breath, thick with blood and Sulfur Smell, blasted into his face.

Red, vertical pupils locked onto him coldly. A low, threatening growl rumbled from deep in its throat.

What made Aegon's soul nearly flee his body were the drops of hot, sticky dragon saliva.

"Plip." They fell on his forehead and cheek, stinging with a mild burn.

"Sunfyre!!!" He screamed in terror, his voice cracking.

Not far away, Sunfyre saw his master subdued. Instantly, he erupted in a deafening, furious roar!

His golden head shot high. The scales on his neck flared and bristled. His wings snapped open, a blaze of gold that lit half the Dragonpit. His massive body lunged forward, ready to strike!

"ROAR—!!!"

But then, another roar—deeper, more massive, like a tangible tidal wave—swept through the entire Dragonpit, drowning Sunfyre's fury completely!

Vhagar rose.

The mere act of standing brought a suffocating pressure. The ground trembled faintly beneath her.

This ancient she-dragon unfurled her colossal frame. The shadow she cast nearly swallowed Aemond, Aegon, Lothron, and Sunfyre entirely.

She turned her head slowly. Those enormous, molten-gold vertical pupils locked onto the young, fiery golden dragon with pure menace.

She took a step forward.

"Boom!" Her heavy footfall landed like a thunderclap.

Sunfyre's roar died in his throat.

Faced with Vhagar's absolute dominance and the ancient draconic might flowing through his bloodline, this beautiful golden dragon instinctively trembled. He still bared his gleaming fangs, hissing a warning.

His golden body quivered with tension, but his spread wings unconsciously folded back. He even took half a step backward.

"Sunfyre! Don't come! Stop!" Aegon screamed with all his strength, nearly sobbing.

He knew too well. Sunfyre was no match for Vhagar. If a fight broke out, the consequences would be unthinkable!

Sunfyre let out a pained, unwilling whimper. His golden eyes, frantic with worry, looked at his pinned master. Hearing the command, he dared not advance another step.

Lothron, still pinning Aegon, let the growl in his throat grow louder, carrying the cruel amusement of a predator toying with its prey.

The claw beside Aegon's cheek pressed slightly. The sharp tips nearly pierced his skin.

Only then did Aemond step forward, unhurried, until he stood beside Aegon.

He looked down, gazing at his brother—pinned to the ground by the black dragonet, face full of terror, utterly disgraced.

"I said you are," Aemond said coldly, "and so you are."

Aegon looked up at Aemond. Beside his cheek was a cold, hard dragon claw. In his nostrils was the hot, rank dragon breath. On his forehead was the hot, sticky dragon saliva.

All his anger, resentment, and grievance were crushed to dust by the most primal fear.

He had no doubt. If Aemond so much as twitched a thought, this seemingly young black dragon could end his life with ease.

"...Yes." He closed his eyes, forcing the word out through gritted teeth.

"I said you are, so you are." Aemond repeated.

"...You say I am, so I am." Aegon trembled all over, utterly defeated.

Aemond raised a hand.

Lothron instantly released his grip, springing away nimbly to land lightly at Aemond's feet, but those dark red vertical pupils remained locked on Aegon, his tail raised high in wary alert.

The crushing weight and lethal threat vanished abruptly. Aegon collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, his whole body shaking uncontrollably from the lingering terror.

A hand reached out to him.

Long fingers, knuckles distinct, steady and strong.

Aegon looked up through blurry, tear-filled eyes and saw Aemond watching him.

The icy frost on his younger brother's face seemed to have thawed slightly.

"I don't care what you think in your heart, Aegon." Aemond's expression softened a little, but his voice was heavy. "But some things have been on your shoulders since the day you were born. There's no escaping them."

"Remember who you are. Remember where you stand."

He paused, looking into Aegon's still-frightened eyes, and added:

"Even if you really are a piece of mud that can't be plastered onto a wall..."

"You are still my elder brother."

"When it truly comes to the cliff's edge, I'll still pull you back."

Aegon stared blankly at that hand, then at Aemond's earnest face.

Silence spread through the damp, gloomy air of the Dragonpit.

Not far away, Vhagar had once again lowered her mountain-like body and closed her eyes.

Sunfyre let out anxious, low cries, but still dared not approach.

After a long moment, Aegon raised his hand and grasped Aemond's outstretched one.

That hand was steady, strong, and pulled him up from the cold ground in one motion.

"Let's go," Aemond turned first, resuming his usual coldness. "Back to the Red Keep. Mother has been waiting for you."

"Besides... Rhaenyra and her whole brood have already arrived."

"At this family dinner tonight, if anyone's missing, the show won't be as good."

Aegon laboriously dusted off his clothes, then finally let out a sigh.

He glanced back at Sunfyre, who was calling out repeatedly, and barely raised a hand to wave, signaling him to be at ease.

The Greens and the Blacks, the Iron Throne and the succession...

But he only wanted to live as he pleased—drink fine wine, ride his dragon through the skies, and enjoy pleasure.

Yet fate had made him the eldest son.