Chapter Text
Aegon and Aemond sat down to break fast with their sister, mother, and grandsire. Meals had been particularly quiet since Aemond had returned from Storm’s End, following the death of Lucerys Velaryon. The family all knew that Aemond’s foolish attempts for vengeance had ended the war of ravens and started the war of fire and blood.
And while Aegon had celebrated his brother’s incident of accidental kinslaying, Aemond had kept his head down since his return, avoiding the gaze of his disgusted mother and frustrated grandsire. Aemond didn’t think much of his half-sister’s grief at the loss of her favorite Strong boy, though. What he did think often of was the Rogue Prince, his uncle, who would undoubtedly strike back and had been plotting away. He had been humbled by his dragon, unable to control Vhagar when he needed to most. That, however, remained Aemond’s secret since he had returned from Storm’s End.
While Aemond had been quietly falling apart since his return, Aegon, on the other hand, had been thoroughly involved with his small council and plans for the war to come. He had remained surprisingly sober most of the time since his coronation. He watched a maid lean over and fill Helaena’s cup, a flicker of interest in his eyes before looking away. Otto watched his grandson’s wandering eye with his lips in a tight line of disapproval. Meanwhile, Alicent anxiously twisted the rings on her fingers, eating less these days, no doubt thinking of Rhaenyra more than ever.
After taking a sip from his goblet, Otto cleared his throat. Aegon and Aemond immediately looked to their grandsire.
“There is news,” Otto placed his goblet on the table. “News of a Tyrell girl in Highgarden.”
Aegon’s lips curled up into a smirk. Any mention of a woman seemed to excite and intrigue Aegon.
“Good news or bad?” Aegon inquired, placing his elbows on the table.
“Neither yet,” Otto replied. “Though it will eventually lean one way or the other.”
Aemond rolled his eyes at his depraved brother’s eagerness and leaned into the table, “What of the girl, grandsire?”
Otto’s eyes briefly flicked to Aemond before looking away, still displeased with his grandson’s recklessness and the mess he had made. “There is word that this Highgarden girl has claimed a dragon, Grey Ghost.”
“There are no dragons in the Reach. It is known that Grey Ghost resides somewhere hidden on Dragonstone,” Aemond said, knowing well of all the existing dragons, even the unclaimed ones.
“No one has seen Grey Ghost in years. He is known to be a recluse creature. It would make sense for him to flee Dragonstone amidst Rhaenyra’s attempts to recruit dragon seeds to claim the wild dragons.”
Aegon and Aemond shared a look before Aegon turned back to his grandside to ask, “Does the girl have any Targaryen blood?”
“It is unclear,” Otto Hightower paused before adding, “What is clear though, is that she is from the respectable Tyrell family, with no lack of money, power, or men. If there is truth to the rumor and that Highgarden now has a full-grown dragon, we must get to them before Rhaenyra has word of it. Another dragon and the allegiance of House Tyrell could win us this war.”
Aegon nodded in agreement before turning to his brother, “Let us fly to Highgarden, brother. If there is any truth to the matter, the girl will be unable to say no to the king and a Targaryen prince and their two formidable dragons.”
“I could make the excursion on my own,” Aemond leaned back in his seat. “Vhagar will be menacing enough that she wouldn’t dare fight back. Grey Ghost is known to be incredibly shy, avoiding people and dragons alike. If we showed up with two dragons, surely he would know to hide. One dragon is plenty. I can leave on the morrow and find the girl and–”
“No,” Otto interrupted him, “The last time we sent you to recruit a powerful house to our cause, you murdered your kin and an envoy. Lord Borros Baratheon has pledged himself and his house to the king, but the status of your betrothal is fragile after he received word of what you did to Lucerys in the skies above Storm's End.”
“Storm’s End is ours, regardless,” Aemond responded, masking his offense from his grandsire, “It is ours because of me.”
Otto seemed to ignore him and continued, “You two will ride together on the morrow. Find the girl and her dragon. Say and do what you need in order to commit her to our cause. But no harm is to come to the girl. We cannot afford to make enemies of House Tyrell. And you cannot risk yourself or your dragons by fighting a girl and dragon who are not yet pledged to a side.”
“What do we have to offer her, grandsire?” Aegon posed the question. “I am wed, Aemond is betrothed to the Baratheon girl. We could offer Daeron’s hand if she is of age.”
“She is reported to be closer to your ages than Daeron’s. And there are rumors that Cregan Stark has made an offer for her hand. If she is to wed Cregan Stark, House Tyrell and the dragon will be lost to the North and she will side with Rhaenyra. We cannot let that happen. We could possibly have Daeron wed one of the Baratheon girls instead and Aemond could make an offer upon your arrival.”
“This is war,” Aegon said, “Betrothals are nothing but words and wind-fragile promises that may never come to be. Aemond could be betrothed to a girl from every great house in Westeros. When the war is won, he will have his pick of the litter with whomever survives the war of fire and blood.”
“Yes, and we will win this war and then be forced to fight another one over dishonor and treachery afterward. Our word to these great houses cannot be fickle,” Alicent finally piped in, picking at her nails as she spoke. “What do we know of this girl, father? She is of similar age to my elder sons and is from one of the wealthiest houses in the kingdom, but what of the girl?”
“That I do not know. I know of her name and the beauty she is said to possess, but that is all I can say presently.”
Aegon smirked devilishly at the mention of beauty and Aemond scowled at his brother.
“Mayhaps I could take a second wife like my namesake did, Aegon the Conqueror,” Aegon proposed. "My own Visenya and Rhaenys."
It was Otto and Alicent's turn to scowl at him. Helaena either did not hear or care-possibly both-as she twisted the spider bracelet she wore around her wrist, tracing the intricate details of it.
“Well, tell us the name of the wench then, grandsire,” Aegon exclaimed, his hand excitedly hitting the table .
“Her name is Annora Tyrell," Otto sighed. "And on the morrow, you two must fly to Highgarden and win her support. With her allegiance, the dragon, House Tyrell, and all of the Reach will follow. You cannot fail.”
“So we will not fail then,” Aemond declared as if it were the simplest of tasks, folding his hands in front of him on the table.
“And if the rumors are true that she is to be wed to Cregan Stark, we must find her something or someone more . . .” Aegon paused before finishing, “desirable. Surely a lady from the warm climate of the Reach and the splendor of Highgarden would not want her or her dragon confined to the cold, gloominess of Winterfell, caring for Lord Cregan’s motherless child.”
Aemond nodded in agreement, “We cannot let her wed a Stark. I do not know what we have to offer the girl, as she undoubtedly needs no gold, but we will win her nonetheless.”
“Good,” Otto nodded curtly. “Get to it then.” He stood from his seat, offering his daughter and Helaena a solemn nod before exiting the room.
“My sons,” Alicent lowered her voice as she looked between the two boys, “No harm is to come of this girl, understood? You must bring her back to King’s Landing unscathed. We cannot have anymore enemies or unnecessary bloodshed. One wrong move on our side will send this girl running to Rhaenyra’s cause. You know Daemon is desperate for all the dragonriders he can get his hands on.”
“Oh Mother,” Aegon rolled his eyes, “the girl will practically be begging to come back with us. Right, Aemond?” He gave his brother a mischievous grin.
“Mmm,” Aemond raised a brow at his brother’s cockiness before turning to comfort his mother. “Do not worry, Mother. We will be kind and diplomatic, and we will successfully recruit the girl to our cause. It is plain truth that she is already in danger, a lone dragonrider without a side to protect her in this war. We offer her and the Reach protection in return for her loyalty and her dragon. If she is a woman with common sense and the slightest care for her people, she will not be able to refuse.”
“Well, brother,” Aegon rose from his seat, goblet in hand as if he were giving a toast, “Let’s go get ourselves a girl and a dragon.”
Aemond tipped his head in agreement, rising from his seat to leave, “On the morrow then, brother. Try to bathe before then," he frowned as he scanned his brother's appearance. "The girl will surely not believe you a king if you arrive looking like that.”
Aemond had to admit that his brother was handsome with his distinct Targaryen features. However, he took little interest in his hygiene, with his hair hanging in greasy, stringy platinum strands. He had dark bags that hung under his eyes, less pronounced than usual now that his drinking was under control. But he always seemed to smell of his debauchery to Aemond. Not kingly at all, if you asked him.
“The King, brother. I am the king.”
“Let us hope those at Highgarden know that,” Alicent looked to her eldest son with a slight frown.
“If they don’t, they will soon enough,” Aemond assured his mother.
“The dragon with thorns will prick then burn,” Helaena mumbled to herself, pushing a tart across her plate with her fork. Aegon and Aemond paid no attention to what she had murmured, and Alicent only patted her daughter's hand before urging her to come with her to go visit the children in the nursery. Wordlessly, they rose from their seats and exited the room.
Alone and now standing around the table, Aegon and Aemond looked to one another. Aegon gave his brother a devilish grin while Aemond met his smile with annoyance, already worrying what plans Aegon was concocting.
“If it comes to it and one of us needs to seduce the girl, I will make the sacrifice and bed her, brother,” Aegon finished his drink and placed his goblet back on the table, walking around the table to clap a hand on Aemond’s shoulder.
“You will do no such thing, dishonoring your wife,” Aemond said sternly. “We cannot win allies with our cocks. At least, you cannot.”
“If you cannot win women with your cock, then I have failed to educate you as your elder brother,” Aegon clicked his tongue in disappointment.
Aemond made no response other than rolling his eye.
“If you will not let me have her, maybe your cock will do then?” Aegon added when Aemond didn’t respond. “I think it would do you well, kinslayer. You have been exceedingly uptight since your return from Storm’s End.”
Aemond cringed at his brother’s words as Aegon walked past him, giving his brother’s shoulder another squeeze on his way out.
Moments later, Aemond turned to leave the table as servants began to clear the plates and tidy up. On his way out, he stopped a squire.
“Go to the library and fetch me every book on House Tyrell and the dragon, Grey Ghost. Bring them to my chambers immediately.”
The squire nodded before scurrying off.
I must be the one to win this girl, this dragon, and this house to our side, Aemond thought. This will get mother and grandsire to look me in the eye again. I must be the one to win this war for our family.