As the night deepened, Claw Isle's first light of dawn finally pierced the morning mist over the Narrow Sea and shone through the windows of Blackstone Castle.
Claw Isle was even livelier the next day than it had been the day before.
At first light, Bartimos personally led his servants to the suite with the freshest breakfast.
Freshly baked bread carried the fragrance of wheat. Crabs stuffed with cheese and spices had been roasted crisp outside and tender within. Pomegranates and mandarin oranges lay on golden platters, still beaded with morning dew. There were even oysters freshly hauled from the Narrow Sea, shucked and drizzled with lime juice, so fresh that a sip seemed to hold the taste of the sea.
Old Earl Armond arrived early as well, sitting beside them at the dining table and talking about the customs and character of Claw Isle. Every so often, he praised Aegon's exceptional intelligence or Rhaenyra's remarkable bearing. His flattery was seamless, yet never felt cloying.
Bartimos bustled about nearby. The instant Rhaenyra's wine cup emptied, he refilled it; whenever Aegon could not reach a dish, he brought it straight to him. His attentiveness surpassed even that of the most practiced attendants in the Red Keep.
Rhaenyra remained dispirited. She ate a few small bites of bread, drank half a cup of juice, then set down her knife and fork. Aegon, by contrast, was entirely at ease. He fielded the father and son's flattery while playing with Sunfyre, who had followed him inside and stayed at his feet. He fed him peeled crabmeat, and the golden dragon ate happily, rumbling with satisfaction deep in his throat.
After breakfast, Bartimos led them on another tour of the castle. From the treasury filled with countless rare treasures to the study housing ancient Valyrian books, then to the terrace behind the castle overlooking the entire Narrow Sea, he explained every detail. He seemed ready to lay all of Claw Isle at the feet of the two royal children.
Aegon remained calm throughout, lingering only a little longer before the horn said to awaken monsters beneath the sea. Made from the bone of a sea beast and carved with ancient Valyrian runes, it looked even more archaic than the one he had seen in the treasury at King's Landing.
Seeing his interest, Bartimos immediately offered to give the horn to the prince, but Aegon declined with a smile.
He had never wanted these lifeless things. He wanted people who could change the future, people who would stand beside him and Rhaenyra through the blood and fire destined to come.
The sun slowly sank westward. The fleet was already prepared and waiting quietly in the harbor. Claw Isle's docks were crowded, with old Earl Armond personally leading all of House Celtigar there to see them off.
The sea breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean, snapping the Red Crab Banners above the docks. Syrax and Sunfyre circled over the flagship's mast, beating their great wings, their golden scales gleaming in the sunset.
Bartimos followed Rhaenyra and Aegon all the way to the gangplank, still wearing that same ingratiating smile and holding a heavy wooden box.
"Princess, Prince, please accept this modest gift." He bowed and offered the box, which was filled with pigeon blood red gemstones and several bottles of golden wine from the Arbor. "May you have a smooth voyage. Claw Isle's gates will always be open to you both."
Rhaenyra nodded slightly and motioned for Floris behind her to accept it. Her voice was level. "Thank you both for your trouble, my lord, ser."
Bartimos's smile broadened. He glanced at Alyn, who stood beside him with his hands lowered, and gave him a push forward. Bowing to Aegon, he said with a smile, "Prince, this boy may be of humble birth, but he is capable and steady in temperament. You are still young and ought to have someone to attend you personally. If you do not object, let him accompany you and see to your daily needs, as a small token of House Celtigar's goodwill."
Alyn stumbled forward under the push, but immediately steadied himself. He lifted his head and looked straight at Aegon with his purple eyes. There was no evasion or flattery in them, only composure and a trace of barely perceptible hope.
Aegon looked at him, then at the perfectly measured smile on Bartimos's face. He understood everything.
He knew exactly what Bartimos intended. First, giving Alyn to him catered to his apparent interest in the boy, currying favor with a Targaryen prince;
Second, and most importantly, it removed this eldest son of dubious legitimacy from Claw Isle for good. Out of sight, out of mind, with any future trouble cut off at its root.
It was a scheme that served both purposes perfectly: he bestowed an enormous favor upon Aegon while ridding himself of a lingering threat.
Aegon smiled, an understanding far beyond his years appearing on his childish face. He looked at Alyn and held out his small hand. "Are you willing to follow me?"
Alyn jolted. He looked at Aegon's outstretched hand, then at the expressionless Bartimos beside him. His throat bobbed. Dropping to one knee, he clasped Aegon's little hand in both of his own and spoke in a low, resolute voice. "I, Alyn Celtigar, swear to follow you, my prince, until my dying breath."
"Good." Aegon nodded. As he withdrew his hand, he gently patted Alyn's shoulder. "Rise. From this day on, you are mine."
And so, at the tender age of just four, Aegon already had two retainers: Viry Fell and Alyn Celtigar. Of course, in name, Viry was still only Aegon's sword instructor and guard.
As for Bartimos, his smile grew brighter at the sight, the corners of his mouth nearly stretching to his ears. The anxiety that had hung over him for years finally settled completely.
Aegon raised his eyes to him, but felt not the slightest contempt.
He had always thought Bartimos a man who played every side, a fawning opportunist who would do anything for power. Now, however, he could see that the man was not entirely without merit.
He recalled Bartimos from the original story. By the time of the Dance of the Dragons, this Earl of Claw Isle had been an old man, yet he remained one of the Blacks' staunchest supporters and a core member of Rhaenyra's Black council.
When Rhaenyra captured King's Landing, the Greens had already emptied the treasury. It was Bartimos who endured the curses of the entire city and reinstated onerous taxes, forcibly replenishing Rhaenyra's empty coffers and sustaining the Blacks' rule.
Even when King's Landing finally erupted in riots and the mob bound him to a post, tortured him, castrated him, and butchered him, he had never betrayed Rhaenyra.
Such loyalty was extraordinarily rare amid the betrayals that littered the chaos of the Dance of the Dragons.
Something in Aegon suddenly eased. Looking at Bartimos, whose eagerness stopped just short of offering him women only because he was too young, he found the man less disagreeable than before.
A ruler had to embrace all kinds of people. Noble knights were sharp blades that defended the realm, but base men could also be blades that swept obstacles aside.
Whether Bartimos was greedy or coldhearted, as long as he remained loyal to Rhaenyra and useful to them, that was enough.
Besides, in Aegon's heart, there had never been any division between Rhaenyra and himself.
Rhaenyra's people were his people;
And Rhaenyra's realm would one day belong to him alone.
After all, though this fellow could be said to be courting both him and Rhaenyra, could he and Rhaenyra truly be considered separate sides?
What belongs to Rhaenyra belongs to me, and what belongs to me still belongs to me.
The setting sun slowly sank into the Narrow Sea, turning its surface into molten gold.
Holding Rhaenyra's hand, Aegon stepped onto the flagship's gangplank. Alyn followed, never more than half a pace behind. Viry Fell waited on horseback beside the gangplank. When he saw them board, he immediately dismounted and followed them onto the deck.
The Cargyll Brothers had already arranged the guards aboard the ship. Tyland Lannister stood beside the captain's cabin, still clutching his map, and bowed slightly as they came aboard.
Leaning on his cane by the rail, Larys Strong swept his gray eyes over Alyn behind Aegon. An inscrutable smile curved his lips, then vanished.
"Weigh anchor!"
The captain's shout rang across the harbor. The sailors hauled on the ropes together, slowly raising the heavy iron anchor from the water. The sea breeze filled the sails, and the great wooden ship began to glide out of Claw Isle's harbor.
Aegon stood at the bow with Rhaenyra beside him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep the sea wind from knocking him over. Behind them, Alyn and Viry stood to either side like two silent shadows.
Syrax and Sunfyre let out long dragon cries and rose from the mast, their vast wings blotting out the sky as they circled above the fleet to lead the way.
Blackstone Castle on Claw Isle gradually receded, finally dwindling to a tiny black speck on the horizon. Ahead, across the Narrow Sea, Dragonstone's outline grew clearer. That island covered in volcanic rock was House Targaryen's root in Westeros, the lair of dragons.
Beyond Dragonstone, farther west, lay Blackwater Bay, King's Landing, and the Red Keep.
There, celebrations awaited them, along with hidden plots, nobles watching like predators, Daemon's imminent return, and the bloody struggle over the Iron Throne that was destined to come.
Facing the wind off the Narrow Sea, Aegon lifted his head and gazed toward King's Landing. Once again, his small hand tightly clasped Rhaenyra's fingers where they hung at her side.
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