"Damned maesters, damned Citadel of Oldtown! One day, I, Aegon the Great, will reclaim everything I have lost!"
Aegon clenched his tiny fists, his silver-gold lashes lowering to hide the frustration and gloom churning in his eyes. Those words roared through his mind over and over, yet he dared not utter a single one.
He hurled the quill in his hand onto the parchment. Ink splattered everywhere, spreading ugly black stains across the white sheet. He slumped over the oak desk piled high with ancient books and scrolls, buried his head in his arms, and let out a muffled, despairing groan.
Outside the window, bright spring sunlight bathed King's Landing. Golden roses filled the Red Keep's courtyards, bees hummed among the blossoms, and the white sails of merchant ships dotted the distant Blackwater Rush. Everything teemed with life. Yet none of that beauty had anything to do with him.
He was trapped in this sunlit study, a prisoner of two old maesters.
Just three days earlier, the fleet had finally sailed from Blackwater Bay into the Blackwater Rush and arrived at King's Landing. By the time Rhaenyra led him by the hand up the Red Keep's stone steps, they had rehearsed their pleas countless times in their minds. They had even planned to cling to Viserys's arms, wheedling and playing on his sympathy, telling him how much they had missed him during more than half a year apart and how inseparable they had become. All they wanted was for their father to soften and revoke the order separating them.
Indeed, before they even disembarked, Aegon had already agreed on a plan with Rhaenyra. They would use their travel-worn appearance to play up their dependence on each other, plead sweetly, recount the hardships of the journey, and put on a heartfelt