Chapter 38:  Dragonstone IV - 123 AC 

A/N: I've been addicted to the new update of CK3 AGOT lol, expect slow updates until I got bored of it (though you all should've been used to it by now :) ).

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Prince Aegon stood in the middle of his chambers in Dragonstone, his usually mischievous eyes now vacant and unfocused. Around him, servants moved efficiently, packing his belongings into crates for the journey back to King's Landing. In his hand, he held a cup of wine, filled to the brim, but it remained untouched. His fingers gripped the goblet loosely, yet he seemed unaware of its presence.

Aegon's gaze drifted lazily to one of the servants, her form catching his eye out of habit, but there was no real thought behind it. The spark that usually ignited his interest was dimmed, replaced by a hollow feeling he couldn't quite place. His throat was parched, yet he felt no urge to drink. 

This week had been one of the most eventful of his young life, a rollercoaster of emotions and experiences that had left him in a state of shock. At the beginning of it, he had dreaded the very idea of coming to this desolate, volcanic island, his thoughts filled with the usual complaints and desires to escape the boredom of royal duty. But now, as the week drew to a close, those petty grievances seemed almost laughable. By the end of it, he was down a brother, a realization that felt too surreal to fully comprehend.

He hadn't even particularly liked Aemond, with his serious demeanor and constant striving to prove himself. But Aegon never wished him dead. The idea of death had always been something distant, something that happened to old men and strangers, not to his own blood, and certainly not to someone as young as Aemond. The wine in his hand seemed suddenly too heavy, the room too stifling. 

The weight pressing down on Aegon's mind became too much to bear, and he sank onto the edge of the bed, placing the untouched cup of wine on the small table beside it. He sat there, waiting, lost in his thoughts, as the servants quietly finished their tasks and left him alone in the chamber. Time seemed to blur, and he barely registered their departure.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Aegon's eyes flicked up for a brief moment. Only one person could enter without provoking his usual outburst of irritation—his mother. But this time, after that brief glance, his gaze dropped back to the floor, as if the sight of her brought no comfort. Alicent moved toward him, her eyes scanning her son, taking in the sight of his disheveled appearance and the empty look in his eyes. She sighed, a sound filled with exhaustion.

"You should go to your dragon now," she said softly. "Fly home first. Your sister has already flown."

For a moment, it seemed as if Aegon hadn't heard her. Then, slowly, he lifted his head, meeting his mother's eyes. There was a flicker of something—defiance, perhaps, or simply the need to escape from the heaviness that surrounded him. Without a word, he reached for the cup he had ignored earlier, finally taking an interest in it. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply, draining it in front of Alicent. She watched him, her expression unreadable.

Aegon downed the wine in a single gulp, leaving the cup nearly empty. As he lowered it, Alicent's voice cut through the silence. "Have you realized, then? The direness of your situation?"

Aegon's eyes flicked toward her, his expression indifferent as he responded, "What situation?"

"That what happened to your brother could happen to you," she continued, her tone steady. "Here, that wine you just drank could be poisoned. At night, you could be suffocated with your own pillow. A dagger might be hidden by one of the servants, meant for you. This is not a place of comfort, Aegon."

He chuckled bitterly, the sound harsh in the stillness of the room. "Aemond killed himself with his stupidity, Mother. No one killed him."

"The dragon burned him, yes," Alicent said, "but they whispered in the dark first. They struck the last blow under the guise of healing him." She reached out, taking the empty cup from his hand and setting it on the table with a soft clink. "Go."

Aegon frowned at her words. He stood, turning his back to her as he made his way toward the door of the chamber.

"Aegon," his mother's voice called him back just as he was about to leave. He paused, turning to look at her once more. Alicent's expression was serious, almost stern. "Avoid the Celtigars. If anyone is to blame, it's their hubris in thinking themselves equal to the house of the dragon that caused this."

He felt the accusation was excessive, but he gave no visible reaction to her words. Without a word, he continued out of the room, the door closing softly behind him as he left his mother alone with her dark thoughts.

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As the servants continued to load Clement's and his family's belongings onto the ship, Clement stood at the dock, his gaze distant as he watched the preparations unfold. Beside him, Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, was also overseeing the final arrangements for his own departure. The two men had exchanged a few pleasantries, nothing substantial, until Corlys brought up a subject that weighed heavily on Clement's mind.

"How fares your project in the Stepstones?" Corlys asked. "My sailors speak of increased activity of pirates these past few years."

Clement sighed. "Alas, they are like cockroaches, so hard to get rid of. Next year, I am planning to sail myself to deal with it again. A bit of a cleanse, if you will."

Corlys nodded thoughtfully. "Then you have my support. My fleet there is just enough to station a few outposts for now, but I've gathered enough to reinforce the region."

"I welcome the help," Clement replied. "But unless we sail southward to their nests in the Basilisk Isles, we can only protect, not fully eradicate them. Even then, after a few decades, they would likely reappear."

Corlys raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the suggestion. "A bold proposal. Sailing through the Summer Sea will be no easy feat."

"I know," Clement said, shaking his head slightly. "I am not planning on that just yet. For now, I will focus on reinforcing the region with the help of my daughter, and now, my son as well I suppose. It will have to do."

Corlys hummed in response. The two men stood in companionable silence for a moment, the sound of the bustling dock filling the air.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning around, they saw the Hand of the King, Lyonel Strong, making his way towards them, his expression as unreadable as ever. Clement and Corlys exchanged a quick glance, both curious about what brought the Hand to them at such a moment.

Not far behind him, the royal family made their way to the docks as well, flanked by guards and accompanied by Princess Rhaenyra and her husband, Laenor. The king looked pallid, his exhaustion evident, while the queen was shrouded in black, a veil covering her face in mourning. They moved towards the royal ship that awaited them, ready to carry them back to King's Landing.

Lyonel stopped before Clement and Corlys, offering a nod of greeting. "Lord Corlys, Ser Clement."

"Lord Hand," they replied in unison.

Lyonel's gaze shifted momentarily to the royal family, prompting both men to follow his line of sight. 

"How fares the king?" Corlys inquired.

"His Grace is holding on," Lyonel replied. "Her Grace, however..." His words trailed off, the silence that followed speaking more than he could.

Clement's eyes flicked back to Lyonel as the Hand turned his attention directly to him. "Ser Clement, regarding your son and his newly bonded dragon—though the king has yet to speak on the matter, much less give it his full attention, I must warn you that the queen holds a different view. With the recent tragedy, that her child died attempting the very same act that your son had done, her opinion of your house is... not favorable."

Clement sighed. "I expected as much."

Lyonel nodded. "I recommend that you... avoid making noise in the realm for now, until the tension has a chance to ease."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Clement's mouth. "What am I in your mind, Lord Hand? A rogue lord?"

Lyonel allowed himself a small chuckle, a brief break in the tension. But the moment was fleeting, as the sound of dragons taking flight drew their attention skyward. Dreamfyre and Sunfyre, the dragons of King's Landing, soared above the sea, heading towards the horizon and leaving the royal family behind on the dock.

With a respectful bow of his head, Lyonel took his leave, rejoining the royal entourage as they boarded their ship. Corlys soon followed suit, bidding Clement farewell before The mighty red queen burst forth from the mountain as well, her wings casting shadows over the sea as she flew towards Driftmark.

Left alone on the docks, Clement watched the sky, the calmness of the moment settling over him like a shroud. The departure of the dragons marked the end of a grim chapter, but the quiet was short-lived. From the mountain emerged three more dragons—Vermithor, Vhagar, and Dusk—his house's pride and new power. They flew in unison, their massive forms casting long shadows over the water as they made their way towards Claw Isle.

Clement watched them until they became distant figures against the sky, and then, closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. The weight of the recent events pressed down on him, but he stood firm, knowing that the storm was far from over.