Praying to the gods is, for many, a mere ceremony. For a select few, it is a way to seek divine answers. For me, it's a way to thank those who saw me fit to spread their will. I am nothing if not a believer in repaying kindness with kindness, thought Aegon as he knelt before the altar. The winged prince's reptilian eyes gazed at the seven-pointed star, his mind filled with plans. *First, I'll build idols far greater than these imitations.*
Rising to his feet, Aegon turned toward the exit, only to see the doors opening. Standing there were familiar figures—his grandmother, his cousin Princess Halaena, and the young Prince Daeron. A wide smile spread across Aegon's face, baring his teeth. To those unfamiliar with him, his grin could be unsettling, but to his family, it was simply Aegon's way of showing joy.
"Grandmother, sweet cousin Halaena, and young Daeron," he called out warmly. "You didn't need to come see me. Are the nobles finished being scolded by a child?"
The first to approach him was his grandmother, Rhaenys, her gaze soft and caring. "You know how the nobility is," she replied. "But it seems your grievance was heard. Lord Horbet will seek an audience with the king to discuss your words."
"And Mother will be there to ensure nothing you said is taken out of context," Halaena added, meeting his unique gaze with a smile.
"Ah, I see," Aegon said thoughtfully. "Is the carriage outside? I want to visit the Citadel. Who's perched on it this time?"
"It's Meraxes," Rhaenys answered.
Without warning, Aegon spread his wings in a dramatic swooping motion, imitating an eagle as he scooped young Daeron off the ground. "Now, young dragon," he said with a playful grin, "what do you say we go scare some grey rats? Maybe we'll take a few home. My maester back on Bloodstone is utterly useless."
Daeron laughed as they soared into the air, his small hands reaching out to grab Aegon's black horns. The action made Aegon laugh heartily. "They always go for the horns," he thought, amused. "Next, it'll be the tail."
At the Citadel
The ride to the Citadel was short. Rhaenys's dragon stirred restlessly as they arrived, unsettling the maesters who were sketching the massive red beast. Some were even growing accustomed to her presence. However, all attention shifted when the group disembarked.
First came Rhaenys, regal and commanding, followed by Halaena, her Targaryen-colored dress fluttering in the breeze. Then came Aegon, his wings tucked behind him and his tail swaying with each step. His appearance was impossible to ignore. The maesters had heard of the Dragonlord of Bloodstone, but many had doubted such a person could exist. Now, seeing him in the flesh, they scrambled to sketch his figure, captivated by his horns, wings, and reptilian eyes. Few noticed the smaller figure of Daeron perched on his shoulders.
"Well then, Grandmother, Cousin," Aegon said as they approached the Citadel gates. "Shall we go inside and get me some new maesters?"
Both women knew the Citadel's rules prohibited women, but they also instinctively understood that such rules didn't apply when Aegon was present.
A younger maester with five links on his chain came running toward them, his face flushed with excitement. He bowed deeply before Aegon and began to speak in a rapid, breathless tone. "My lords and ladies, I am Maester Renold Flowers. My prince, I would be honored to study you! Someone like you has not been seen since the fall of Valyria. The Dragonlord of Bloodstone—you're truly magnificent. Only eleven name days old, yet so robust!"
Aegon raised an eyebrow at the frantic man. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye as he turned to his grandmother with an exaggerated grin. "Grandmother, I like this one. Can I keep it?"
Rhaenys, catching on immediately, decided to join the performance. "How much is it?" she asked in a serious tone.
Renold blinked in confusion. "M-My lady, I'm not sure I understand..."
Rhaenys didn't miss a beat. "My grandson came seeking new pet rats, and he likes this one. How much?"
Aegon added with mock curiosity, "I've heard grey rats make excellent pets. What do you think, Daeron? Do you want one too?"
Daeron tilted his head, puzzled but amused. "You see, Daeron," Aegon explained, "these are grey rats—very clever little creatures. This one," he gestured at Renold, "has five chains, meaning it can do five things. The old one over there has six, which means it's useless. You don't want old and useless. You want them to have room to grow."
The maesters bristled at the blatant provocation, but the sharper ones recognized the game being played. Renold, however, followed Aegon, whispering nervously. "My prince, did I offend you?"
"Offend me? No, not at all, my new friend," Aegon replied, his grin widening. "Can't you see? You've drawn them out—the bright young, the wise old, and the shrewd few. Truly, the Citadel is a magnificent collection of rats."
Renold looked closer at Aegon's sharp-toothed smile, muttering, "Fascinating," as he began sketching it.
Aegon chuckled to himself. *Well, that's surprising,* he thought, pleased by the unexpected turn of events.