Capítulo 13: True Creation, Requires Sacrifice
Two months later.
Aegon strode through the bustling streets, adorned in his crown, armor, and with Blackfyre at his side. His presence commanded reverence from the crowd, who cheered and hailed him as their hero. His exploits at the Stepstones had become legend, and though the adoration of his people was clear, Aegon's demeanor remained humble. He waved and smiled at them, but in his heart, he did not seek their praise. He did it because it was his duty, the mantle he bore as their future king.
Accompanied by Ser Harold and another member of the Kingsguard, Aegon made his way through the Street of Steel. The clang of hammers on anvils echoed through the narrow passageways, where smiths of all qualities, from the most humble to the most revered, worked their sacred craft. The further they walked, the more refined the artisans became, their workshops larger and grander as the street climbed upward toward the more exclusive forges.
The group eventually came to a stop in front of a grand workshop, where a grizzled yet robust man waited at the foot of a large set of stairs. His face was weathered by years of toil, his hands hardened by the fire and steel. As soon as he saw Aegon, the smith took a knee.
"My prince, I received your message. It is truly an honor," he greeted, bowing his head.
Aegon placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Rise, my friend. There is much work to do, if you accept my contract."
The smith stood, curiosity evident in his eyes. "How may I be of service, my prince?"
Without a word, Aegon handed him a scroll. The smith unfurled it, his eyes widening as he took in the intricate plans laid before him. It was a design for a battle coat, something truly unique. But this was no ordinary garment. The armor was to be crafted from dragon scales.
"Alas, my prince," the smith replied after a moment of hesitation, "I do not possess such a priceless resource."
Aegon gave him a knowing look, his eyes gleaming with the weight of his intentions. "That is where I come in," he said, gesturing toward the horse-drawn wagon that had accompanied them. "Pull the wagon into the delivery bay of the shop!" Aegon ordered the carriage driver, who obeyed without question.
Intrigued, the smith followed Aegon to the back of the wagon, his curiosity piqued. As they stood beside it, Aegon threw back the tarp, revealing the contents beneath. The smith's breath caught in his throat. Before him lay countless large and small onyx-black scales, mixed with chunks of dried, hardened skin.
"These are the some of the many remains of Balerion the Black Dread," Aegon said, his voice low, the significance of the moment not lost on either of them. The weight of history hung in the air. "If you know any artisans who can assist you in this task, call upon them. But I urge discretion. I have made count of every scale in this wagon, every fleck."
Aegon's gaze grew sharp, and the smith understood the unspoken warning. "If you accept this task, and I find any of these have been sold…" Aegon trailed off, but the threat was clear.
The smith nodded respectfully, keeping a calm composure while understanding deep the magnitude of the project. "Dragon scales are difficult to work with, my prince. They are resilient, unyielding. But with the right hands, I can see it done. I know many skilled artisans who would die for a chance at this."
"Good," Aegon replied. "I will require the first coat by two moons' time. Two others of similar build will follow, according to a schedule you deem fit. After that, any scales that remain are yours to use as you see fit, whether for my own use or for yourself."
The smith bowed deeply, showing his gratitude and respect. "It will be done, my prince. I swear it. If it pleases you, may I ask only half of what your offered payment would be? Enough to keep my services and crew running, for it will take some contacts from the East for it's completion. You cleared the Stepstones, the Triarchy scum affected us all, high and low. You have my eternal respect."
Aegon turned to Ser Harold, who stepped forward with a small chest. When opened, it revealed an abundance of gleaming gold dragons, enough to commission a small fleet of new warships. The smith's eyes widened at the sight, but his words remained humble. He had wealthy clints before, but even the likes of royalty can still surprise.
"I am your servant, my prince. I will see this done."
With that, Aegon clasped the man on the shoulder, the pact between them forged in steel and scale. Soon, Rhaenyra would wear the legacy of the Black Dread himself!
As Aegon and Ser Harold made their way back down the path from the smith's workshop, the Kingsguard knight spoke in a low, cautious tone. "Are you sure this is wise, my prince? Those remains represent the legacy of the dragons, and to trust such an outsider with them…"
Aegon's expression remained calm, though a flicker of contemplation crossed his features. "We will soon know, my old friend. But if my wife is to be queen one day, I intend to gift her something truly fitting for our shared name day and duty both. The two other coats will be for Baelon and Visenya for when they come of age. This is a legacy I want them too to carry, not just as heirs but as dragonlords in their own right. True creation, requires sacrifice!"
He glanced briefly at the sky as they neared the Red Keep. "It was difficult enough to talk my father into letting me out of the keep for a few mere hours. I intend to make it worth the trouble."
Upon returning to the keep, Aegon made no delay in heading toward an open balcony overlooking the gardens. As he approached, he could hear the familiar sound of laughter and easy banter between the women he loved most. Aemma, Alicent, and Rhaenyra sat together with two ladies in waiting, the warmth between them palpable as they enjoyed each other's company amidst the fresh air and flowers.
"And where have you been off to, husband? Out breaking rules… or hearts, perhaps?" Rhaenyra teased, her eyes gleaming with playful mischief as she nursed Baelon beneath a small blanket draped over her chest for privacy.
Aemma, whose smile had rarely faded since the twins' births, cooed softly to baby Visenya in her arms. The infant, who was known for her fussiness, seemed utterly calm in her grandmother's embrace. Aemma had developed a special bond with the girl that went beyond words, and even Daemon had confirmed his estimation with his grand-niece, stating in half in jest, half in truth, that Visenya was the warrior queen reborn.
"No, my love," Aegon replied with a grin, stepping toward them. "I simply felt like a walk amongst my people, a well-fashioned walk, I might add." He struck a playful pose in his armor, drawing stifled laughter from all three women as they tried not to wake the slumbering children.
Aegon moved to Rhaenyra's side, lowering himself next to her, leaning against balcony bench. His gaze softened as he reached out, touching the soft, blanket-covered head of his son. "A walk may have done me some good, but always returning to this…" He looked at Rhaenyra, then Aemma and Alicent while slowly shaking his head in visible disbelief that had yet to fade "…is where I truly belong."
Alicent smiled warmly from across the balcony, her green eyes glowing with affection for her niece and nephew, something she at first felt conflicted to state, but was warmly affirmed of the notion by the royals.
"I do not know whether to be relieved or concerned about these mysterious 'walks' you've been taking, Aegon." Aemma spoke with an inquisitive eye.
"I assure you, mother, there's no cause for concern," he replied with a light chuckle. "Only plans, for the future."
Rhaenyra tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Plans, you say? And what plans would those be?"
Aegon gave a secretive smile. "Nothing to worry about yet, my love. You'll know soon enough. But for now," he leaned in to kiss her gently on the forehead, "let's enjoy these moments."
Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow but let the matter rest, content to let Aegon keep his secrets, for now. As Baelon stirred slightly in her arms, she shifted her focus back to the baby, humming softly to him.
And so they sat together, the Targaryen family basking in the glow of shared joy and quiet contentment. But even as the warmth of the evening sun bathed them.
Two months later
The past four moons had been a monotonous blessing, a time of quiet and peace for the young husband and wife, a rare blessing in their otherwise tumultuous lives with surely more to follow. With the arrival of the new royals, the castle had settled into a rhythm of tranquility. The royal couple found themselves wrapped in the duties of parenthood, though they took to it with surprising ease. The once chaotic days of small council meetings and court intrigue were now filled with the sweet indulgences of the heir caring for his children, long naps, and moments of shared joy.
For the first time in a long while, they had the luxury of being lazy, lounging in their chambers or gardens, doting on their newborns. Rhaenyra's only gripes were small and, truthfully, more amusing than frustrating. Her favorite gowns, tailored to her once slender frame, had needed adjustments during her pregnancy, adding extra length to accommodate her belly, but now were too long as she had long since returned to normal...to a degree.
The extra weight, though hardly noticeable to anyone else, was something she fretted over more than necessary, but Aegon found it endearing and quite alluring. He cheekily reassured her with whispered comments that always made her laugh "More of you to hold onto, my love," he'd tease, his grin mischievous.
Yet one adjustment proved harder for her than anything else: her temporary banishment from wine due to breastfeeding. It was a minor sacrifice, but for Rhaenyra, who had always enjoyed her morning...and brunch...end evening cups..., it felt like a cruel deprivation, something her father jokingly reassured her that the babes may sleep better if she did indulge, something that made Aemma softly smack him on the arm. Aegon, ever the supportive husband, decided to join her in sobered isolation. He too gave up wine, though it was one of the few pleasures that eased the strains of sleepless nights.
Visenya, in particular, seemed determined to test their will and patience. With a pair of lungs that could rival a dragon's, she rarely let them rest for long. Though they loved their daughter in ways they could never hope to describe, her powerful cries often echoed through the castle halls, ensuring that no one, not even the Kingsguard could remain asleep for long. But despite the sleepless nights, neither Aegon nor Rhaenyra would trade it for anything. Every moment spent with their children, every laugh and cry, was a gift.
In those quiet hours of the night, when Baelon and Visenya finally slept soundly in their cradles, Aegon would pull Rhaenyra close, her head resting against his shoulder, and they would talk softly about the future. Their love for each other had grown stronger through this shared journey, and though the weight of their responsibilities loomed ever-present, for now, they were content in the simple joy of being together as a family.
in the usual small council meeting, Aegon sat comfortably with Baelon in his arms, a serene smile on his face as he paid little heed to the discussions around him. The council deliberated in the familiar rhythm of courtly matters, and it was Otto Hightower who eventually spoke up. "Lords and common folk alike are eager for the Prince and Princess's approaching name day celebrations. Some say there shall be another tourney, where much of the small folk call for a festival in honor of the Prince and Princess's...victory two moons past" he informed.
"I don't see why they need our permission, it's their city in the end" The heir stated, turning some heads in the small council with furrowed brows. "Power at the end of the day is a trick, a shadow on the wall, and a man, large or small, can cast one very large" He continued before smiling as Baelon stirred, only to remain sleeping, something his father related with all too well after days of sparring and court alike.
The heir renamed purposefully unaware at the expression from council he caused, the only impressed one among them being Lord Corlys who nodded with a smile of respect.
Viserys leaned back in his seat, considering the options. "We haven't had a proper hunt in some time," Aegon chimed in once again, his tone casual yet thoughtful. "The wilds have always offered a reprieve from the capital. If it gets us out there again, as well as the new Prince and Princess, then all the better."
The idea was met with agreeable nods from most of the council members. Aegon had sparked enthusiasm among them. "A wonderful suggestion, my son," Viserys agreed, his eyes lighting up with paternal pride. "You were barely able to walk when we last had one in your honor."
Aegon chuckled softly, cradling Baelon closer. "And I'm sure I enjoyed every moment of it," he replied, sharing a warm look with his father. Lord Corlys, who had since reconciled with the king over past disputes concerning the Stepstones, joined in the laughter. The tension of years past had finally eased.
"It is settled, then," Viserys declared with finality. "To the wilds we go once more. If the gods are gracious, perhaps we may even catch sight of a White Hart." There was a note of hope in his voice, for the White Hart was a rare and powerful symbol of kingship and favor from the gods.
"A most hopeful and fitting omen, Your Grace," Grand Maester Mellos added, echoing the sentiment.
"Is there anything else of note?" Viserys asked, his gaze sweeping over the room, but no one else had further matters to discuss. "Then you are dismissed," the king stated, and the council members rose, bowing before departing one by one. The Kingsguard closed the doors behind them, leaving father and son alone for a moment.
Aegon shifted slightly, his thoughts already turning elsewhere. "Father," he began, "may I venture into the city once more in next coming days?"
Viserys arched a brow, curious. "And leave your child? Are you certain, my boy?" he asked with some amusement, though there was no true disapproval in his tone.
"I will only be gone for a few hours," Aegon reassured him. "It concerns the name day present for Rhaenyra."
Viserys's interest piqued. "And what might that be, if I dare?" he inquired with a smile.
"A tradesman recently arrived from Asshai," Aegon explained, careful to keep the true nature of his plan hidden for now. "He carries a necklace of Valyrian steel."
Viserys's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "A truly fitting gift for Rhaenyra," he said, clearly impressed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. "And have you any inkling of what Alicent and Rhaenyra may be planning in return?"
Aegon chuckled softly, thinking of his wife and sister. "I already posses everything I could ever ask for," he said, glancing down at the sleeping Baelon, whose gentle breathing was the only sound in the room, a soft tap on the veil of eeriness. "Everything else would seem... inconsequential."
Viserys smiled knowingly. "I too faced that same dilemma with your mother," he admitted. "For all gifts pale in comparison to life and themselves."
What Viserys didn't know, however, was that Aegon had already obtained the necklace days prior. He had won it in a drinking contest with his uncle Daemon, by a mere mouthful, before the rogue prince passed out in a fit of drunken revelry. The necklace, a gleaming relic from Old Valyria, would be only the first of four, possibly more gifts Aegon had planned for his family. Soon, the shrouds of dragon scales would be completed, and with them, Aegon intended to guard his wife and children through the coming storm.
But for now, he kept these plans to himself, content in the knowledge that his gifts would speak for themselves when the time came.
Making their way out of the chamber, Aegon was greeted with a pleasant surprise. Princess Rhaenyra, his favorite cousin, had flown in from Driftmark pleasantly unannounced, stepping away from her own court into another, something the young prince envied.
"Aegon my dear, it has been an age!" Rhaenys happily embraced her nephew, ever beautiful with her raven black hair as she cautiously maneuvered around one of the two new additions to the house to hug her nephew.
She, along with the other Velaryons, were some of the first to meet the new Prince and Princess, as well as their hatchlings, following the day of their birth. Laenor and Laena most of all were awestruck by the hatchlings beauty, as well as overjoyed with their new cousins they could one day also mentor and fly with. Laena had yet to claim a dragon, however, for her heights were set high, on the ancient she-dragon herself, Vhaegar, something Aegon quipped, jokingly admitting Vermithor was big and terrifying to done with already.
The Bronze Fury fascinated the little lady, for she personally knew a close family member who rode such a legendary creature of size and might, requesting countless times to both the crowned prince and her mother to meet the mount of her great grandsire, only to be swiftly let down softly by Aegon, and firmly by Rhaenys, who despite her love for the creature, would never risk it, telling her daughter all she needed to know on her mothers thoughts regarding her and Vhagar.
"May I my dear?" She asked regarding Baelon, with Aegon swiftly agreeing as he placed him in her arms.
"I caution you my Prince, for this may be a cautionary tale" The master of the tides built up to an obvious joke as he moved closer to whisper in Aegon's ear. "We don't need more, two is enough, do not embolden her, even at her age" He jested, getting a laugh from Aegon and a firm flip to his shoulder form his lady wife with her free hand, one she swiftly returned to holding her new nephew, a playful scowl still present to Corlys.
Out of all the lords he had to deal with, and no doubt would in the future, Corlys was by far his favorite.
A week later.
The anticipation of the short noticed hunt grew steadily in King's Landing. The day before the event, Aegon once again strode through the streets of the city, his head filled with thoughts far heavier than the cheers of the commonfolk. His billowing black cloak trailed behind him, the crimson Targaryen sigil glinting in the fading light. His armor and crown gleamed in the late afternoon sun, reflecting the energy of the bustling city. Yet the streets were not what occupied his mind, nor the jovial shouts of the people. His destination lay at the end of the narrow alleyway, where his duty awaited, another contract to be fulfilled.
Ser Harold walked at his side, a silent shadow, while eight of the most proven and worthy household guards trailed them in formation. The citizens who had gathered to witness the prince's procession cried out with joy as Aegon passed. Normally, he might have acknowledged their adoration with a smile or a wave, but today, his focus lay elsewhere. His eyes were sharp, his gaze fixed ahead, the familiar buildings passing by in a blur.
As he approached the end of the street, the smithy came into view. The smell of hot metal and burning coals filled the air, mixing with the earthy scents of leather and sweat. It was a familiar, in a way, not unlike war. Standing outside, waiting as he always did, was Ronald, the master smith whom Aegon had entrusted with his commission, the one he'd come to know as Ronald.
"How goes business, my friend?" Aegon asked as he approached, his voice a touch lighter now that he stood before the man who had earned his respect.
"Gleaming, your grace," Ronald replied with a wide grin. "Please, come and see the contribution your mind has made possible. Your plans were intricate and invaluable to us. If you ever wish to strike steel yourself, I would be more than willing to instruct you, free of charge, of course."
Aegon chuckled, though there was a seriousness to his tone as he replied, "A generous offer, but I'm quite content striking sword to shield and swaddling cloth to babe. To take on another craft might throw the balance into chaos."
Ronald laughed heartily, clapping his hands together. "Well said, my prince. Follow me, then, just through here!"
With visible excitement, the smith led Aegon deeper into the workshop. The space was vast, a testament to the importance of this particular smithy within the capital. The noise of hammers striking metal filled the air, accompanied by the hiss of steam and the crackling of hot coals. Tanners worked tirelessly on hides, finery experts inspected intricate details on fabrics, and the blacksmiths themselves, each one like a minor god of creation, shaped steel with expert precision. Sparks flew in bright showers, casting an almost magical glow through the dimly lit room. It was more than just a smithy; it was a guild, one of the most prestigious in all of King's Landing.
Aegon marveled at the sight. Though he had seen the process many times, there was always something captivating about the birth of new creations from raw materials. Here, in this forge, men played with fire and steel as though they commanded the elements like himself, molding the future with their skilled hands.
Ronald led him toward the back of the workshop, where an armor stand sat draped in a large cloth. "Here she is," Ronald said, his voice filled with pride. "The magnum opus that has tested my colleagues and me for the past two moons. It's rare that a craftsman is satisfied with his own work, but I believe this piece has emboldened us all to reach for greater heights."
With a flourish, Ronald pulled the cloth away, revealing the masterpiece beneath.
Aegon's breath caught in his throat. Before him stood a battle coat, one that could easily belong in an art gallery as much as on the battlefield. A blend of artistry and functionality that left no detail overlooked. The onyx-black leather shimmered in the dim light, catching reflections like the surface of a midnight lake. Subtle streaks of red wove throughout the material, resembling the last embers of a dying fire against the encroaching darkness. The leather seemed almost alive, much like the conquerors plate he wore, pulsing with an inner strength.
The armor's chest, spine and shoulders were layered with smooth, polished scales, each one meticulously placed to ensure both protection and fluid movement. The stitch work was flawless, adding durability without sacrificing its elegance. This was not just armor, it was a symbol, a statement of power and grace, and Aegon could see his other half reflected in it.
"It's... exquisite," Aegon finally said, his voice full of awe. "Are you certain you won't be needing the other half of the offered payment?"
Ronald smiled humbly, clasping his hands together. "Not necessary, my prince. This contract is one that could not be called 'once in a lifetime,' but rather 'once in an age.' I once worked on the very scabbard that now houses Blackfyre for His Grace, Jaehaerys, gods bless his name. To work again on such materials for the royal family is a blessing I cannot quantify. Of course, I cannot claim all the credit. Without my assembled team, it would have been impossible to bring this vision to life."
Aegon smiled at the man's genuine humility. He had grown so accustomed to flattery and sycophantic ass-kissing from those around court, but Ronald's words were free of pretense. The smith was sincere, a man who took pride in his work without feeling the need to embellish his accomplishments.
"You and your team have my deepest thanks," Aegon said, placing a hand on Ronald's shoulder. "Feel free to take your time with the rest of the pieces. I will give my regards to the princess when I see her. We'll see how this holds up in the King's Wood tomorrow."
"You humble me, my prince," Ronald replied, bowing deeply. "My services are forever yours."
Aegon nodded, appreciating the man's loyalty. He admired the craftsmanship once more, his mind already racing with thoughts of the hunt. The hunt would be a spectacle for Rhaenyra, a display of strength and prowess, and this armor would serve as both her protection and symbol of status, if ever he was to care for such things. But beyond that, it was a testament to the bond between those who created and those who wielded.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
Ilikefords44445555
Ilikefords44445555 See how I didn't say OLD regarding VERMI!?!?!? I CAN CHANGE!!! I'd like to think he wouldn't care, nor would he understand...literally. Thanks for everyone reading to this point so far!
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