A Possible Gift

It had been seven years since Aegon arrived in this world. Now, with the appearance of a teenager, he stood on the balcony of his room, looking out over the Narrow Sea. The vast blue of the waters seemed to reflect the depth of his thoughts and his aspirations for this new life. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore brought a sense of tranquility, yet also a longing for exploration and adventure that he could not easily shake off.

Although life at home was filled with luxury and comfort, Aegon felt a growing restlessness. The desire to experience more of the world beyond the walls of Illyrio's property tormented him. Illyrio was extremely protective, and Aegon had spent much of his childhood isolated, interacting only with the servants and his father's business visitors. The desire for adventure and discovery grew within him like a flame that could not be extinguished merely by the comfort and security that his current life provided.

Domestic life was pleasant, undoubtedly. Abundant food and luxury were guaranteed, and the constant care of the servants ensured his well-being. The only demands on him were the daily training sessions with Illyrio and the lessons taught by Serra. Illyrio, who had been an excellent swordsman in his youth, dedicated hours to training Aegon in swordplay, diplomacy, economics, and governance. These lessons aimed to prepare him for a future of leadership but also served to keep Aegon occupied and at home. Serra, on the other hand, was responsible for his instruction in etiquette, history, and the Valyrian language. Despite the complexity of the language, Serra did her best to impart what little she knew, based on the stories that had been passed down to her and the Blackfyre heritage she carried.

Serra also shared with Aegon stories of her own life. Her stories were painful and often difficult to hear. She spoke about her childhood as a sex slave in Lys and the transformation of her life after being bought by Illyrio, who made her his beloved wife. These accounts, despite their somber nature, provided Aegon with a valuable perspective on the adversities his mother had faced and the strength she had to overcome them.

During one of these lessons with Serra, the atmosphere was almost ritualistic in its tranquility. Serra, with her calm and determined demeanor, clapped her hands twice to call the servants' attention. "Bring the chest," she said firmly, her voice resonating in the silent room.

In a few moments, two servants entered the room, carrying a medium-sized wooden chest. The chest, plain and unadorned, was carefully placed between Aegon and Serra. The servants left the room at Serra's request, leaving mother and son alone with the mysterious chest.

Serra then stood up, moving with the grace of someone accustomed to handling precious items. With a key that looked old and slightly ornate, she unlocked the chest. The sound of the latch releasing was almost ceremonial, as if the chest held important secrets. Slowly, Serra lifted the lid, revealing its contents with a touch of reverence.

"This, my son, are dragon eggs," Serra announced in a soft voice filled with restrained emotion.

Aegon was visibly excited to see the eggs before him. The recollection that these are Daenerys's dragon eggs, gifts from Illyrio during the marriage to Khal Drogo, brought a surge of enthusiasm. Gently, he touched one of the eggs, feeling the cold, petrified texture beneath his fingers. The sensation was mesmerizing, each egg possessing an aura of ancient power that fascinated him.

"But it's a shame that they are petrified. They are beautiful, aren't they?" Serra commented, watching Aegon's fascinated expression as he explored each egg with an almost reverential care.

"Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion," Aegon whispered softly, running his hand over each egg. The sound of the names, spoken in a murmur, seemed to carry a reverence that he couldn't hide.

Serra raised an eyebrow and let out a light laugh. "You named the eggs?"

"W-what? No. They really are beautiful, mother," Aegon quickly replied, trying to disguise the slight embarrassment of having whispered the names of Daenerys's dragons. The idea that he might have revealed one of his more intimate curiosities made him slightly self-conscious, but the excitement still shone in his eyes.

"May I have them for myself? My eighth birthday is approaching. Please?" Aegon asked, trying to adopt a softer, more affectionate tone. He hoped Serra would grant his request, imagining that Illyrio might not believe the eggs could hatch, or he would have given them to Aegon instead of Daenerys.

Serra looked at him with a mix of affection and consideration. "Perhaps. I will speak with your father. Now go, you will have plenty of time to gaze at these eggs again. Go and rest," Serra said, with a tone that combined authority and affection, as she closed the chest and guided Aegon out of the room.

Aegon left the room with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Returning to his room, his heart raced with the anticipation of what might come. He prepared for the night with his mind filled with dreams and possibilities, imagining a future where dragons, those legendary and powerful beings, might play a significant role in his life. The thought of having such magnificent creatures in his possession stirred a deep sense of wonder within him.

They represented more than just a curiosity, they were a symbol of power and potential that he aspired to. He thought about what Serra and Illyrio would say, how his life could change with a simple birthday gift. The possibility of dragons becoming a part of his world was both thrilling and daunting, and Aegon could hardly wait to see how his dreams might unfold.