Alton I , Jaime I

Alton Sunglass

Ship bound for Dragonstone

As the sun rose over the horizon, Alton felt its warm rays on his skin, a comforting presence in the early hours of the day. He fastened padding onto his arm, gearing up for his daily training session. For two years, he had served as a squire to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms for the Red Keep. It didn't matter that they were on a ship; Ser Willem insisted on regular sparring each morning.

He sought out a quiet spot on the deck, away from the busy crew. He found a secluded area on the deck, where the only sounds were the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the distant calls of seabirds. He drew his sword, its blade catching the sunlight as he swung it through the air, adapting to the sway of the ship. His sword cut through the morning air as he moved with the rhythm of the sea.

The journey had been comfortable so far: the weather was favorable, with clear skies and a gentle breeze filling the sails, taking them steadily toward Dragonstone. His gaze drifted to the calm open sea, a sight he had missed during his two-year stay in King's Landing. As a son of a minor branch of House Sunglass, he had grown up seeing the beautiful beaches and the blue sea surrounding Sweetport Sound. Now, the return to the sea stirred within him memories of his childhood.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Ser Willem Darry approaching. Ser Willem was a bear of a man, his hair gray, with wrinkles on his face and body marking his age.

Yet, this did not seem to faze him, as he remained deadly with a sword. Alton had learned much under his tutelage and hoped that one day he would be deemed worthy of being knighted.

"Early as always, Alton," Ser Willem said with a smile.

"You're the one who is late, old man," quipped Alton, returning the smile.

"Old man, eh? We'll see who's old when I have you bested in our spar," Ser Willem retorted.

Alton gripped his sword tighter as Ser Willem, with a nod, signaled the start of their sparring session.

"Today, we work on your offense," Willem said, assuming a defensive stance that challenged Alton to make the first move.

He advanced, aiming a series of strikes at Ser Willem, who parried each one with ease. Alton then launched another series of calculated strikes, aiming high and low in an attempt to find an opening. Ser Willem, ever the seasoned warrior, parried each attack again, his movements fluid and precise despite his age.

"Good, but you need to find the gaps, Alton," Ser Willem instructed as he blocked another advance.

"Be more unpredictable," Willem advised mid-clash, pushing Alton to think beyond mere force. He feinted to the left before swiftly changing direction with a strike to the right, attempting to outmaneuver the old knight's defense.

This time he got him. "Ah a good one" Ser Willem praised.

The sparring session continued until Ser Willem, visibly fatigued, signaled its end. His age was beginning to show. "You're improving, lad," Ser Willem grunted, stepping back and lowering his sword.

His leg was hurting again Alton could see him using the sword for support.

"Why don't you get us both some water?" he ordered.

"Yes ser" Alton replied as he went to fetch the water it was then he noticed Prince Viserys watching them.

"My prince," Alton greeted, bowing slightly in respect. Ser Willem followed suit, bowing. "Your Grace,".

The prince returned their greeting with a nod. "That was great, Ser Willem, Alton," he complimented.

Ser Willem chuckled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Thank you, Your Grace. Perhaps one day soon, you'll be sparring with us."

"I would like that," the prince answered with a smile.

"That's it for today, then. We will continue tomorrow at Dragonstone," Ser Willem said. "Alton, attend to the prince," he instructed. Alton nodded, his previous order forgotten as the old man left him and the prince alone.

He was given the responsibility to watch over Prince Viserys, following the queen's command to have someone assigned to her son on the ship. The prince's penchant for wandering the deck rather than staying confined to their quarters was the cause of this.

He had been shadowing the prince since their departure, sometimes imagining himself donned in a white cloak, like a Kingsguard assigned to the prince.

"Come, Alton, I need to talk with Timun again," the prince said, walking towards one of the sailors. In the days since being assigned to Prince Viserys, Alton found him to be very inquisitive, constantly engaging with the sailors, bombarding them with questions about ships, trade routes, sea lanes, and the vital ports across the known world. The prince's curiosity seemed boundless, his thirst for knowledge insatiable.

When the prince learned that he was of House Sunglass, he directed some of his questions to him as well, inquiring about his family's history and their lands. Alton answered as best as he could. He appreciated the prince's genuine interest and aimed to provide thorough answers to satisfy his curiosity.

It seemed today he was interested in the pirates that plagued the narrow sea.

"Aye, Your Grace, them pirates be a slippery lot," Timun replied, squinting up at the prince."the ones that raid the narrow sea, mostly lurkin' 'round the Stepstones, they are. But they ain't picky, no ser. They'll raid any coast that's got somethin' worth takin'."

"Any famous ones" the prince asked.

"Oh, there be a few, yer grace. Salladhor Saan's one, slick as a wet fish, that one. Comes from Lys, he does."

"Them pirates roam far and wide, hittin' the coasts up to the Vale, and even round to the Arbor even to the icy waters beyond the wall . Ain't no place safe from their grasp, I tell ya."

"So if a person controls the stepstones…" the prince muttered.

"Are ye lookin to become one yer grace? '' Timun asked with a bellowing laugh.

'How dare this low life talk to the prince this way' Alton thought as he walked forward with his hands on his sword "how dare you speak to the prince like that" he said to the now cowering sailor.

"Alton, he was jesting," the prince said, stopping him.

"But my prince," he protested.

"It's fine," the prince said before thanking the sailor and walking towards the front of the ship, he chose to watch the sea from the edge of the deck.

"Alton, when will we reach Dragonstone?" the prince inquired, looking towards the horizon where an island's silhouette was becoming clearer.

Alton assessed the wind's direction and their speed before responding confidently, "We should arrive this afternoon, my prince."

The prince nodded, then asked, "Have you seen Dragonstone before, Alton?"

"Yes, my prince, I have," Alton replied, his mind tracing the stark, dragon-shaped outline of the formidable island fortress he had been there when he was the prince's age.

"My mother says I have been there as well, but I don't remember it," the prince said, laughing.

The prince spent the rest of the day roaming the deck, observing the sailors and asking them questions. Whenever the princess and the queen joined him on deck, he would turn his attention to them.

As the day wore on and evening approached, the silhouette of Dragonstone appeared on the horizon. The prince's eyes were fixed on its many towers and spires, sculpted to resemble dragons.

As they neared Dragonstone, Alton marveled at the sight of the castle, a structure he had only seen once in his early childhood. The castle was unlike anything else in the Seven Kingdoms. Made by the Valyrians using sorcery, it is said that they liquified stone and sculpted it into shape. He could see gargantuan stone dragons perched on the battlements, their wings unfurled, as if ready to take flight at a moment's notice.

"Too many dragons," he heard the prince whisper, echoing his own thoughts.

As the ship neared the docks, he could see Dragonstone's gates and the spiraling climb up to the castle. The gates themselves were adorned with intricate carvings of dragons, their eyes made of precious stones that seemed to gleam in the fading light.

As the ship prepared to dock, the queen and the princess joined the prince on deck.

He wondered about the future of House Targaryen. The rebels had won at the Trident, and Prince Rhaegar was dead, but he still believed they could prevail. They had the royal fleet; Lord Tywin had not yet joined a side. Surely, the former Hand of the King would come to the king's defense and the Reach still had a large army besieging Storm's End.

As the royals disembarked, Alton followed, with Ser Willem leading the escort to the castle.

Reaching the top at the entrance of the castle, the prince promised Alton they would meet again soon. He was skeptical of this but cherished the brief moments he had spent in the prince's company. For those few days, he felt like a Kingsguard.

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Alton Sunglass

Dragonstone

The prince's promise proved true, and Alton found himself assigned to his personal guard. They had been in Dragonstone for a week when Ser Willem informed him of his new duties.

"The prince was quite impressed with you, Alton. From today, you're to serve directly under Prince Viserys. He's personally requested you for his guard," Ser Willem said with a proud smile.

"Me? But why?" he asked.

"You've made an impression on him, Alton. This is a great honor and a big responsibility," Willem said. "Are you prepared for this?" he added.

Alton was silent for a moment, making his decision; he answered, "I am, Ser. I will serve the prince to the best of my abilities."

The prince had continued his curious behavior at Dragonstone, much like he did on the ship. Alton followed him as he navigated through the dark and dreary corridors of the castle. He seemed particularly interested in the castle's treasury and wanted to know how much gold was in it.

He would often spend time in Prince Rhaegar's old solar. Alton did not know what he did in there, but he couldn't help but think that the prince might be missing his deceased brother.

He had also developed an interest in the castle's ravens. He would visit the rookery at odd hours, spending time observing the birds and sometimes even assisting the maester with their care. Aside from these activities, Prince Viserys often played with his niece, Princess Rhaenys.

They walked to a balcony overlooking the docks; he had wanted to see the royal fleet, which had arrived last night.

"Let's sit over there," he said, pointing to some chairs on the balcony. "You look like you are about to fall over, Al." The prince had taken to calling him Al recently. He told Alton it was easier to call him that.

Aside from the prince, only his mother used to call him Al.

He sank into the chairs, much to the prince's amusement. "I told you to leave the armor, Al. You don't have to wear it all the time."

"I have to get used to it, my prince," he answered with a weak smile.

Their brief respite was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning around, he saw two castle guards approaching. They were clad in the black and red of the Targaryen house. They stopped before the prince and bowed.

"Your Grace," the first guard addressed the prince. "Queen Rhaella has summoned you to the throne room."

"Why?" he asked.

"She only asked us to find and bring you there at once." The second guard answered.

Alton turned to the prince. "We should not keep the queen waiting, Your Grace." The prince nodded and asked the guards to lead the way.

After a long walk they entered the throne room to see a large group of people assembled there. Queen Rhaella, sat upon the throne, her gaze fixed on her youngest son as he approached. Alton noticed all the minor lords of the island were present. He led the prince to the queen and stepped back to stand near Ser Willem.

The Queen stood up and stepped forward. "My lords, ladies, King's Landing has fallen to the rebels." Murmurs rippled through the room as the reality of her words sank in. Alton felt a tightening in his chest.

'How had it happened so quickly? The city could withstand a siege for months,'

"There is more," she began again. "We have also learned that King Aerys Targaryen, my husband, has passed into the arms of the Seven," she said without emotion. The murmurs were louder this time.

"With the death of my husband, the crown must now pass to his rightful heir," she declared, her voice steady and commanding. Her eyes met the prince's.

"Viserys, step forward," she beckoned.

"All hail King Viserys Targaryen third of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Rhaella proclaimed, her voice echoing through the hall.

"Long may he reign!"

The courtiers and Alton echoed in a solemn chorus, "Long may he reign!"

His gaze turned to the new king once more. He expected to see sadness or shock on the boy's face. Instead, he saw a flicker of annoyance; it was imperceptible, but he caught it. It was a subtle expression, a slight furrowing of the brow, a momentary tightening of the lips, before the prince schooled his features back into a mask of neutrality.

'Strange very strange'

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 Jaime Lannister

Kings Landing

Jaime watched Aerys's lifeless body fall to the ground. He looked at his sword, slick with royal blood; he had broken his oath; he had killed the man who he swore to protect; he heard the heavy doors to the throne room open.

He turned to see Ser Elys Westerling, Lord Roland Crakehall, and other knights of the Westerlands rush in.

"Ser Jaime, you…" Ser Westerling began.

"I've killed the king," Jaime declared, interrupting the knight, his voice echoing across the room. "Spread the word. Aerys is dead," he commanded.

Some of the knights exited the room to carry out the order. Jaime saw Lord Crakehall approaching him, looking at the lifeless body of the Mad King at his feet.

"Should we proclaim a new king now?" he asked.

Jaime thought of the line of succession. Who was to be king, Prince Viserys or Prince Aegon? But then, something else echoed in his mind: a vow made to Prince Rhaegar before he left for the Trident and another, more recent one to Prince Viserys.

'Elia, Aegon,' his mind screamed at him. Without another word, Jaime sprinted out of the throne room, leaving the dead king and his father's men in confusion. He could hear them calling after him; his heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted through the Red Keep's labyrinthine corridors towards Maegor's Holdfast.

He burst into the holdfast and ran towards the royal apartments. The acrid smell of smoke assaulted his nostrils. 'Has someone set the apartments on fire?' he thought; panic set in as he sprinted towards the chamber where Elia and Aegon were confined. He could see the smoke now and he could also hear the sound of a man cursing and howling in pain.

Rounding the final corner, Jaime's worst fears were realized. The chamber was engulfed in flames. Outside in the corridor stood Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, holding his hands which he could see were burned. He spat curses through clenched teeth, his voice filled with pain and rage.

"What happened?" Jaime gasped out, his voice barely above a whisper, dread coiling in his stomach.

"That whore," the Mountain growled, his voice a rumble of pain and fury, "set the whole damn chamber on fire."

Jaime's legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees, the heat of the flames searing his face. Despair gripped him; he had promised Rhaegar, he had promised little Viserys, that he would protect Elia and the children.

A bitter and hollow laugh escaped his lips. He had failed; he had broken all his oaths and promises.

Jaime Lannister had stopped one fire only to be defeated by another.

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Is Aegon dead click here to know ----><-----< p>