The Young Men of the Stormlands

The laughter in the hall had stopped long ago, the moment Borros stopped laughing. Borros rubbed his nose and pretended to study the ceiling. Lorent opened his eyes, glanced their way, then closed them again.

Aegon gave Laena a mental thumbs-up. This lot from the Stormlands, old and young alike, from Duke to Earl, were nothing but trouble.

But Steffon was different. His nervousness was real, not feigned or performed. He was simply a six-year-old child thrust before a crowd, with no idea what to say or do.

Aegon suddenly remembered what the original story said about Steffon Clinton-he would later marry the widowed Elena, who was nearly twenty years his senior. By then, Elena was already the mother of four daughters and a son, while he was still young.

Whether that marriage was a political alliance or something else, Aegon did not know. But the boy standing in the middle of the aisle, too nervous to speak, hardly seemed like the same man who would marry the regent of Storm's End, twenty years older than himself.

People really did change.

Aegon turned toward the aisle.

The next man had already stepped forward.

Andrew Estermont, heir to Greenstone. He wore a dark green coat embroidered at the chest with House Estermont's green turtle sigil. His brown hair was curly, his eyes dark green, and his smile gentle.

He and Michael Mertyns were both childhood friends of Earl Jasper Wylde-the Master of Laws from the Stormlands was still in King's Landing, but his friends had come in his stead to attend the princess's matchmaking gathering in their homeland.

Andrew carried himself far more naturally than the men before him. He bowed just deeply enough, and when he straightened, he did not rush to speak. Instead, he glanced at Rhaenyra and waited for her slight nod.

He spoke briefly about this year's harvest on Estermont, mentioned the recent merchant shipping in the Narrow Sea, and finally said that his father had sent several casks of wine from the Arbor for Duke Borros.

His tone was unassuming and his subjects ordinary. He neither made a show of himself nor let the conversation stall. Rhaenyra spoke with him a little longer, asking about Estermont. He answered each question, neither servile nor overbearing.

Aegon glanced at him several times, then at Rhaenyra. Her expression had not changed. She still wore that polite, distant smile.

But Aegon noticed that her fingers were neither pressed to her forehead nor propping up her chin-she was listening seriously. He frowned and made a mental note of Andrew Estermont's name. Then he turned back to his conversation with Erich.

And so Rhaenyra's "second matchmaking gathering at Storm's End" ended amid a curious atmosphere.

Rhaenyra had sat in the seat of honor all morning, pressing her hand to her forehead even more often than yesterday. Each candidate she saw was more ridiculous than the last-too old, too young, too false, too arrogant, too earnest, too nervous. She sighed and raised her cup for a sip, only to discover it was empty.

Beside her, Laena smiled. "Shall we keep going?"

"No. People have already started leaving, haven't they?" Rhaenyra set down her cup. "That's enough for today."

Farther down the hall, Aegon was already busy.

Following Erich, he made a round of the young nobles of the Stormlands. Andrew Estermont, the man whose name he had noted, had a gentle face and spoke in a measured manner. He was easy to get along with.

Aegon had already put Astan Selmy on his list of "honest men"-someone worth befriending.

Bryce Caron came over of his own accord to speak with Aegon, asking about the weather in King's Landing, the dragon lair at the Red Keep, and whether Sunfyre breathed golden flames. Robin Beesbury stood nearby, his gaze moving between Bryce and Aegon, an unreadable hint of a smile on his lips.

Just before Bryce Caron approached, however, Aegon had been discussing with Erich and the others which noble of the Stormlands was the finest fighter. Bryce Caron planted himself right in front of them and looked down at Aegon, a strange gleam in his eyes.

"Your Highness," he said, "you didn't come to hear me sing yesterday. Might you do me the honor today?"

Aegon looked up at him. Bryce Caron wore a pale yellow coat today, its collar still embroidered with black nightingales. He had changed the sword at his waist, and its scabbard was much plainer.

Robin Beesbury stood behind him with his arms folded, smiling.

"I'm busy today too," Aegon said.

"What about tomorrow?"

"Busy tomorrow too."

Bryce Caron smiled and crouched to meet his eyes. "Then when will you be free, Your Highness? I can wait."

Aegon stared at him, feeling a little unnerved. Why was this man so impossible to shake off? He was searching for an excuse to refuse when Erich's voice drifted over to rescue him. "Bryce, don't scare the boy."

Bryce Caron stood and smiled at Erich. "I just want to get to know His Highness. I hear he's already riding a dragon this year, younger than any of us in the Stormlands were when we started riding horses."

"So you've forgotten about finding a bride?" Erich raised an eyebrow helplessly.

Bryce Caron glanced at Robin Beesbury, who shrugged. "There's no hurry about that."

Bryce Caron looked down at Aegon again. "Your Highness, whenever you feel like hearing a song, come find me. I certainly sing better than Robin."

"You don't sing better than me," Robin Beesbury said behind him.

"You sing off-key." Bryce Caron did not even turn around.

The two walked away, one behind the other, still arguing over who sang better. Aegon watched them go, wondering how they had gone from chatting as though no one else existed to bickering with each other.

Michael Mertyns also came over from a corner and exchanged a few words with Aegon about books on Valyria.

When he heard that Aegon had been flying on dragonback at three, his eyes shone like a beacon. He asked a string of questions: how high Sunfyre flew, how fast, whether he banked when turning, and whether he could hover in the air. Aegon answered a few. Michael listened, enthralled, tracing shapes in the air with his fingers as though drawing flight paths.

"You should go to the Citadel," Aegon said.

Michael froze for a moment, then gave a bitter smile. "My father won't allow it."

"You can go on your own," Aegon said. "The Citadel takes students regardless of their family background."

Michael looked at him in silence for a few seconds, then smiled. This time it was a real smile, not that rehearsed, carefully measured one from before.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he said.

Willem Fell stood behind his elder brother without saying a word. Aegon went over to greet him. Clearly unused to being noticed by a prince, Willem's ears reddened at the tips, but his voice was steady as he answered.

"How long have you been learning swordsmanship?" Aegon asked.

"Seven years," Willem said. "Since I was eight."

"Then do you want to become a knight?"

Viry glanced at his brother, Ser Gude, who nodded.

"Yes," Willem said. "And I want to join the Kingsguard."

Aegon looked at him, a strange feeling welling up inside. This fifteen-year-old boy still had no idea where his future would lead.

He would become a Kingsguard, choose a side in the Dance of the Dragons, escort a princess to safety amid the chaos, and survive to the end, becoming the sole survivor in the reign of Aegon III. People would call him a "false knight" because he had chosen the "rebellious" side in the civil war.

But Aegon did not see it that way.

"You will," Aegon said.

Viry paused, then smiled, his smile as pure as the first winter snow in the Stormlands.

When the matchmaking gathering finally broke up, Rhaenyra descended from her seat of honor and immediately spotted Aegon standing on a bench, his arm around Erich Dondarrion's shoulders. Whatever they were talking about had him doubled over with laughter.

Andrew Estermont, Michael Mertyns, and Bryce Caron stood nearby. Even Byron Swann lingered a short distance away, listening with his arms folded, his expression cool but making no move to leave.

She approached without Aegon noticing. Standing behind him, she heard him telling them how, when Sunfyre was little, he had secretly flown out a window of the Red Keep, plunged headfirst into Blackwater Bay, and clambered out dripping wet, even flinging a fish into Alicent's face.

The young men roared with laughter.

Rhaenyra coughed.

Aegon turned and found his sister behind him. Her expression was calm, but there was a gleam in her eyes that he knew all too well.

"Sister," he said, the smile still on his face.

Without a word, Rhaenyra bent down, scooped him up, tucked him under her arm, and turned to leave.

"Sister!" Aegon struggled. "I haven't-"

"You haven't what?" Rhaenyra's voice came from above. "You haven't finished talking to everyone? You haven't met every young man in the Stormlands? You haven't-"

She lowered her head and looked at him.

Aegon shut his mouth.

Laena followed, doubled over with laughter. Erich remained where he was, watching the princess carry the prince away under her arm, his expression shifting from shock to admiration.

"His Highness is done for," he said.

Michael Mertyns nodded. "Done for."

Watching a scene that resembled one of his own childhood nightmares, Bryce Caron glanced at Robin Beesbury. Robin shrugged, as if to say, Don't look at me. I don't know what's going on either.

Willem Fell stood where he was, watching the princess and prince disappear into the distance, the earlier smile still lingering on his lips.

Back in the guest room, Rhaenyra tossed Aegon onto the bed.

She did not truly toss him-she set him down gently, but so quickly that Aegon felt as though he had been thrown.

"Did you look at me at all today?" Rhaenyra asked.

Aegon froze.

"All morning," Rhaenyra said, "you were down there having a wonderful time chatting with those men. Did you spare me even a glance?"

Aegon opened his mouth. He really had barely looked at his sister. He had been observing candidates, making friends, and gathering information, completely forgetting that today was supposed to be about Rhaenyra.

"I-"

"You what?" Rhaenyra reached out, pinched his cheeks, and pulled them apart. "Did you come to keep me company while I found a husband, or to make friends?"

"Bo-" With his face stretched out of shape, Aegon's words came out muffled. "Both..."

"Both?" Rhaenyra released his cheeks, then pinched his nose. "I'll ask you again. Did you look at me even once?"

Aegon wriggled free of her hand and retreated to a corner of the bed, rubbing his reddened nose. "Sister, weren't you doing perfectly well today? None of those men were any good. I looked at all of them."

Rhaenyra stared at him.

"The Swann was too arrogant," Aegon counted on his fingers. "The Mertyns was too false, the Dondarrion wasn't interested, the Fell was all right, but his cousin is Earl Lorent, the younger Clinton boy was too young, and the Caron-" He paused. "The Caron already has Robin."

Rhaenyra blinked, then laughed. "You knew the Caron already had Robin?"

"Laena told me," Aegon said. Realizing he had let it slip, he hastily added, "No, I mean I worked it out myself."

Rhaenyra looked at him, her smile deepening. She reached out, hauled him from the corner of the bed, and gathered him into her arms.

"You little rascal," she said, resting her chin on his head. "Are you really helping me find a husband, or choosing followers for yourself so you can rebel against me someday?"

Aegon lay against her without speaking. He really was choosing people for himself. Willem Fell, Michael Mertyns, Andrew Estermont, Astan Selmy-

In the original story, some of them supported the Greens, some the Blacks, and some kept out of both camps.

But now they were all still young, not yet torn apart by war and politics. Getting to know them now was far better than meeting them later on a battlefield.

"Nothing to say?" Rhaenyra looked down at him.

"I'm thinking," Aegon said.

"About what?"

"About when my sister will let me go."

Rhaenyra held him tighter.

Laena pushed open the door. Seeing the siblings entangled together, she leaned against the doorframe and laughed.

"Still at it?"

"He didn't look at me today," Rhaenyra said, a trace of hurt in her voice.

Laena came over, sat on the edge of the bed, and ruffled Aegon's hair. "He was very busy today. He spent ages talking to Erich Dondarrion about famous people and old stories from the Stormlands, then discussed Old Valyria with Michael Mertyns. He even arranged for Willem Fell to teach him swordsmanship in the future."

Aegon poked his head out of Rhaenyra's embrace. "How do you know all that?"

"I saw it," Laena said. "Unlike someone, I wasn't busy sitting with my head down and my hand pressed to my forehead."

Rhaenyra glared at her. Laena laughed, reached out, and lifted Aegon from her arms onto her own lap.

"Stop bullying your little brother," Laena teased. "He did quite well today. He got to know all the young nobles of the Stormlands. They'll all be useful someday.

"Still, these men are all of the same generation as my cousin Borros. Watch out, or my little betrothed really might rebel against his sister someday."

Rhaenyra glanced at Laena, then at Aegon, and huffed.

"When did you two start conspiring together?"

Laena and Aegon exchanged a glance and laughed at the same time.

Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened. On the beach, the three dragons cast long shadows in the setting sun.

Vhagar was dozing, Syrax was grooming her wings, and Sunfyre had already flown back to nestle between them. His tail curled around Syrax's claw as he slept with his limbs sprawled in every direction.

Another day of matchmaking had passed.

Another batch of candidates had come and gone.

Rhaenyra still had not taken a liking to anyone.

Aegon, on the other hand, had made quite a few friends.

As for what came next, that could still wait until later.