Chapter Text
You would think that after weeks of training, intense training, not the play-acting of his boyhood, that running through the halls of the Red Keep would not be such a task. You would be wrong. Aegon felt like his lungs were simultaneously on fire and staging a revolt within his chest. Then again, that could also be a result of the tears that were stubbornly leaking from his eyes- despite his best efforts.
Aegon did not believe in the gods of his mother, nor did he know enough to throw his faith behind that of his father’s. Yet now he could not help but think if there were gods, and the recent oddities definitely suggested that there were, they must be cunts.
He wasn’t stupid, despite what many of his kin may believe, he knew things had not suddenly become perfect with his cousin’s presence. Yet they were so damn close, so close that where he found himself now made it all the more painful. For the first time in so, so long, Aegon had not felt the phantom of an executioner's blade on his neck. It seemed to him, a happy future had been dangled over himself and his siblings, now only to be snatched away.
If Aemon died, would things return to how they were? Worse even perhaps, as both sides would undoubtedly blame each other. Though Aegon knew who would truly be to blame, Daemon. Would the blacks accept that, or would they double down over their husband, their father- for all they knew what kind of man he was.
The Prince stumbled to a stop, heaving for breath. His eyes burned, yet the more he willed the tears to cease the more they flowed. What could he possibly do? It was his word against his uncle's. If Daemon lied… Would anyone believe him?
”Do you require aid, my Prince?”
Turning his head so quickly Aegon feared he may have cracked something, he gazed wearily at the newcomer. Larys Strong had approached strangely quietly for a man with a cane.
”You’ve suffered a great loss, no one begrudges you your tears.” Larys said softly, the click-clack of his cain now echoing as he shuffled closer.
The man was trying to comfort him, Aegon appreciated that, and yet he couldn’t help the chill that ran down his spine.
The Lord of Harrenhal had never done anything to him, nothing to inspire such a reaction, and yet…
“My cousin yet lives Lord Strong,” Aegon replied shakily, “so hold off on your condolences.”
”Apologise my Prince, but I was referring to your Lord grandfather, the Hand…”
”Oh,” Aegon muttered “right…”
”Grief can present itself in different ways. Why when I lost my brother, I found myself forgetting it… I kept thinking I’d see him turn a corner. He never did of course, never will again. It took some time for me to grasp that though.” Larys continued, now side by side with the Prince.
”I heard you and Prince Daemon had been dispatched to investigate the witch's chambers. A fruitful search I hope?”
Aegon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and wishing desperately for a drink, or several.
”Depends on your definition of fruitful,” he muttered, wiping angrily at his face. The tears at least it seemed had finally stopped.
The Strong Lord shrugged, smiling sympathetically towards the Prince.
”Does your issue spring from the search matter… Or your companion?”
Aegon looked up sharply, his gaze narrowing on the other man.
”I’m not sure what you're implying-“
”I mean no offence, my Prince! Only I am well acquainted with your uncle’s reputation, and unfortunately… his work.” Larys sighed mournfully.
”My profession often requires distasteful deeds, but I take no pleasure in it. Your uncle… His work in the city still has its mark even now, years after his departure.”
Aegon’s eyes softened, biting his lip worriedly. He was unaware of it, but in that moment, he looked so very like his mother. Larys Strong noticed.
”I-if Daemon had to choose… His brother or his s-son… Who do you think would value higher to him?” Aegon asked stiltedly, not quite able to meet the other man’s eye.
”You propose a difficult question, my Prince. On the surface level, I suppose I must say his brother, since he is our King…” Larys mused lightly.
”We all know Daemon doesn’t give a fuck about that.” Aegon snapped.
”Titles aside, on a personal level, who would he choose?” He pressed.
Larys looked down sadly, the Prince missing how it did not quite reach his eyes.
”To Daemon I feel they are one and the same… In my experience of him, he has always chased Viserys’ shadow, hating and loathing him in equal measure. As a second son myself, I know what that is like. Knowing one day everything you have will rely on your sibling's goodwill.”
”But my father’s goodwill has been consistently unreliable,” Aegon insisted. “He banished him what, four times? Surely he would have tired hanging out for… Something.”
Larys chuckled darkly, “he will never tire of it, my Prince. I dare say long after your father’s death, Daemon will lurk in his shadow…”
”And that is all without considering his feelings for his son,” Larys continued glibly.
Aegon gaped, and felt the edges of a hysterical laughter clawing at him.
”What do you mean? His feelings for Aemon are positive, surely? Gods above know how much he hovers over him.” Aegon hissed, unknowingly beginning to pick at his nail beds.
”Does he?” Larys asked softly.
The Lord of Harrenhal shuffled to the side, grasping at the edge of one of the corridor’s widows, in order to prop himself up. Aegon turned accordingly so the man was still at his front, something primal in him insisting he not show his back.
”Er yes?” Aegon answered, his voice wavering with uncertainty, as he squinted at the other man.
Larys had positioned himself right in front of the sun, for the most part blocking it, but every now and then a shard would escape him, making it painful for the Prince to look at him head on.
It had seemed that Daemon loved his son, but what would Aegon know of a parent's love? It was undoubtedly true that his uncle was more heavy-handed with Aemon than Aegon remembered Rhaenyra being with her boys. Did that mean something?
”Aemon’s value to Daemon comes from being his son. Everything he does will only add to Daemon’s own legacy… And yet, when the legacy becomes greater than the patriarch, what then?”
The Lord of Harrenhal gently stroked the head on his cain, with surprising gentleness.
”Is that not the nature of things,” Aegon asked somewhat desperately.
”Ambition can make monsters out of even the best of us my Prince, especially when pride is added to the mix… Look at your own grandfather for an example, he meant well no doubt, and yet I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how his ambition effected his legacy.”
If Aegon wasn’t careful, the tears would return any minute. He already felt himself growing light-headed as his breathing increased in pace.
”Daemon has always been an icon both within and without your family. Positive or negative light withstanding. I imagine it’s something he took pride in, even with all his exiles, his brother would never have that. But now… Men look to the brightest star to guide them, not the falling one, and as beautiful as it may be- it brings destruction when it lands.”
Aegon gulped, that did sound in character. It was confirmed then, that Daemon would lie and Aemon would die, and to Aegon that just wasn’t acceptable. How dare Daemon choose Viserys over Aemon! If Aegon’s father had ever had any true value to their family, it had long rotted with the rest of him. Even for Rhaenyra, he now realised, Viserys had caused more harm than good. Whereas his cousin, Aemon had quickly established himself as valuable more than any other.
”You say you’ve had to deal with… Distasteful matters,” Aegon began. “In your work, have you ever come across someone who deals in magic? Someone who could shed more light on our situation?”
If Aegon could find another magic user, not one of those dreadful red hellions, but someone else. Perhaps they could prove what must be done? Because he would need proof, no one would ever listen without it- even with it was a stretch.
Yet the truth of the matter was, it was Viserys he would have to convince. To bring the matter to the council, even his family, would never work. Aegon was, essentially, championing the death of the King, for a Prince so far down in the succession it was laughable- a former bastard. The depressing reality was, he would have to rely on his father, a man he had long learned never to do so.
Fortunately, however, his hopes did not rely on Viserys suddenly remembering how to parent- if he ever had known. Aegon was relying on his guilt.
The King was a man all too aware of how his life, his position, was granted on the back of others. Rhaenys’ claim, his brother’s renown, Queen Aemma’s life… Queen Alicent’s girlhood.
Oh he pretended he was unaware, like he turned a blind eye to the state of their family, but it was rotting him from the inside out. His false incompetence had a price, and Aegon was going to cash it in. If he could handle things correctly, for once in his life, it wouldn’t matter what Daemon wanted- or did. Viserys would take the decision out of his hands himself.
”Kings Landing has many a fortune teller my Prince… But something more substantial, I’m afraid you would have to go further afield.” Larys admitted, his queer features twisted into a grimace.
Aegon frowned, “I won’t champion another red witch Strong. We’re literally still trying to clean up the mess of the last one!”
The Lord Confessor bowed, muttering his apologies. “I should’ve been clearer, my Prince. I did not mean as far as Essos, merely elsewhere in our own fine country.”
Aegon exhaled through gritted teeth, “and where might that be? We do not have the luxury of time a plenty.”
The Lord of Harrenhal smiled, it was a cold thing, almost reptilian.
“You have a dragon, do you not?” He asked almost teasingly.
”I do.” Aegon admitted, pouting slightly. “But even Sunfire, glorious as he is, has his limits. How far afield is this acquaintance of yours?”
”Well, my Prince. It seems this all depends on how quickly you can fly to Harrenhal.”
“Harrenhal?” Aegon asked disbelievingly. “You think your dusty old castle can help me?”
Larys chuckled darkly, “oh no, not the castle. It’s more crippled than I am. Merely someone who resides there.”
”Who?” Aegon pressed, leaning forward eagerly.
”I have a… Relative, who may be able to give you the answers you seek.” Larys replied temptingly.
”A relative, you don’t sound sure.” Aegon asked, frowning at the vagueness in the other man’s tone.
Aegon did not come from a family where you weren’t aware of your relatives, in fact, it was often a requirement you knew them a little too well.
”Alys Rivers has resided in Harrenhal my entire life. She practically raised me after my mother’s death… Harwin was older, less interested in her wisdom.”
The Strong Lord sounded disappointed at the actions of the child version of his long-dead brother.
”An aunt then?” Aegon sought to clarify.
”Perhaps,” Larys smiled thinly. “Though some say she lived in the castle even when my father was a boy.”
Aegon snorted disdainfully, “so you’re sending me to some old hag?”
Larys hummed, tapping his cain with the melody. “I dare say you might mistake her for younger than me.”
Aegon tilted his head in interest, someone who could maintain their youth certainly sounded magically proficient. He'd heard the red witch had held a similar enchantment.
Nodding decisively Aegon declared, “I’ll fly there immediately, and bring this Alys Rivers back with me.”
Larys sighed mournfully and shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my Prince.”
Aegon stalked forward uncaring of the harsh light that assaulted his eyes, he glared at the crippled Lord. “What do you mean, not possible? You said she was my solution!”
”And I maintain she could be,” Larys assured, maintaining his calm under the Prince’s heavy glare.
”Yet Alys does not leave Harrenhal, I dare say I do not think she is able.” He explained plainly.
Aegon huffed, “then what in the Seven Hells am I meant to do? I need her to convince the King!”
Larys stepped forward, causing the Prince to balk at how the Lord had effortlessly, and carelessly, invaded his space.
”If I may, My Prince… You may not bring Alys to the King, but you could bring the King to Alys.”
Aegon nodded awkwardly at Sir Darklyn, as the Kingsguard allowed him into his father’s chambers. He didn’t want to be here, and unfortunately it showed.
”Your grace,” The Prince called as he took tentative steps into the chamber. “Father?”
The room had been set to rights since the witch's attack, and yet Aegon couldn’t help but feel the air of uncertainty, as if the room itself was tainted. How the King could happily return to it he’d never know- then again perhaps to Viserys, it felt welcoming. The curse was after all aimed at healing him.
”Aegon?” Viserys answered quietly, surprise evident in his voice, from where he was leaning over his model of old Valyria.
The King sounded better than he had in a long while, but still so very tired. Could Aegon really convince him to leave the Keep?
”Did you find something of use? Daemon has yet to tell me anything, though that is nothing new. I imagine he has returned to Aemon’s bedside, I do not begrudge him that, it is a father’s place.” Viserys muttered, hands ghosting over a small dragon figurine.
Aegon withheld the disdainful snort that almost escaped him, but it was a close thing.
”I found references to what I believe is the spell, and I conversed with the Lord confessor over it.” Aegon recounted, slowly approaching the King.
”Larys? What would he know of witchcraft?” Viserys asked, finally looking up at his son.
”Apparently, he is in the acquaintance of a witch… She may be kin to him, he wasn’t clear. We believe she may be able to reverse the magic cast.”
A wain smile broke out across the King's face, pulling grotesquely at his scaring.
”Good, that is good.” He sighed.
Biting his lip, Aegon took a rallying breath, before continuing.
”There is just one problem,” he admitted.
”Oh?” Viserys asked wearily, his filmy eyes fixed on his son.
”Larys told me she won’t- can’t, leave Harrenhal. Aemon can’t be taken there, I doubt he would survive the journey. Helaena, I would like to spare any further unpleasantness…” Aegon trailed off.
”And that leaves me as the only other living person involved in whatever sorcery occurred.” Viserys continued dryly, picking up where Aegon had finished.
”You want me to go to Harrenhal?” The King asked the Prince incredulously.
Slowly, Aegon lowered himself so he was on his knees before the older man. Viserys now above him in a way he had not been in years.
”I need you to go to Harrenhal… Kepa, please… Aemon will die if you don’t, and I fear what will come of our family if he does. I know I am not a good son, not a good Prince… But I have never asked you for anything, I’ve kept my distance as I know you do not enjoy my company… But now I ask- no I beg you, please, please do this.”
Viserys gaped at the boy kneeling before him. The wretched begging that spilled from the younger royal's lips brought forth memories he would rather forget.
Oh, how Viserys had begged like this once… Had gotten no answer, no relief from his grief.
”Aegon I…” He began, shaking his head in denial already.
”It would take me weeks to get there. Even if your cousin survived that long, I do not know if I would. For all this magic has summoned a vitality I have not felt in years… I am still not a well man.” Viserys sighed defeatedly.
”What if it didn’t take weeks?” Aegon insisted desperately, his eyes wild.
Viserys frowned, unsure what the younger royal was suggesting.
Aegon smiled, a hint of madness creeping in, his blue-violet eyes gleaming like wildfire.
”Father, how would you like to ride a dragon again?”