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"Prince Aegon Targaryen."
Viserys raises his head, surprised to see his son in the throne room among the petitioners. Otto as well. Still, the teenager is here, his head high, a determined look on his face. He looks clean and sober. The king and his Hand look at each other, wondering what he wants. If he puts an effort into his appearance, he seeks something of them. Alicent's eldest child makes his way to the Iron Throne and kneels. He locks eyes with his sire, and the sick man can see that this isn't some jest.
Aegon is on a mission and he will see it done.
He acts this way only when it matters enough to him.
"Prince Aegon." The ruler of the Seven Kingdoms greets him. "You seek my favour today."
"Indeed, Your Grace."
Viserys cannot remember the last time Aegon called him "Father". It's always "Your Grace". When he speaks of him, he says "His Grace", he says "the king" but he rarely says "my father". It pains him. However, he fails to see, to understand, why it happened. He loves his child. Why can't his son see that?
"Your Grace, I am now a father."
A smile lights up the tired man's face.
"Yes. Of a bouncing baby boy and a precious baby girl. You have made me a proud grandsire."
Horror strikes him when he notices his words don't affect his son. Worse, he doesn't even believe them.
"My son and my daughter are of the blood of the dragon. When your daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, gave birth to her sons by Laenor Velaryon, you saw fit for them to have a dragon egg placed in their cradles."
Whispers start to surround them. Otto stares at his grandson, his jaw tight. What is he playing at? True, him remaining neutral in his language avoids conflict and it helps in restoring Alicent's reputation after what she did on Driftmark. Still, he dislikes the path this conversation takes.
"My son might not be heir to the Iron Throne, unlike your daughter and my nephew. But he is still a Targaryen. And we have all witnessed what the lack of a mount can create."
"The fool!" The Hightower thinks
"Your pranks didn't help your brother's cause, Aegon." Viserys says
But instead of bowing his head in shame, Aegon still looks ahead.
"No, they did not. Not having eggs in our cradles didn't either."
People start speaking louder. The king has paled.
"Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are your grandchildren. They are as much your grandchildren as the grandchildren Princess Rhaenyra gave you. I do not ask for a king's sense of equity. I am asking for a grandfather's fairness."
The only thing stopping the queen's father from slapping him is the crowd surrounding them. If his words do indeed point out the blatant favouritism for the king's eldest daughter, Aegon lacks subtlety.
"I love my children and my grandchildren equally, Aegon." Viserys meekly tells him
"Of course, Your Grace."
His tone ices his bones.
His son believes he isn't loved, nor are his children... how could this happen?
"But... dragon eggs are rare to find."
"But not for the grandchildren descending from Aemma." The teenager bitterly thinks
Still, he smiles. The studied, polite smile courtiers have on their lips at all times.
"Besides, when they are older, they could try to claim their dragons. Like you did. Like their mother did. Like your brother did. Mayhaps your little Jaehaerys will claim Vermithor, allowing this beautiful dragon another rider of the same name."
Aegon exchanges a glance with Otto and sees all the ramifications forming in his head. It was he who named his great-grandchildren, much to the young father's annoyance. Because his children, despite being babes, are already weapons. The first grandson born from the first son of course needs to have a name so grand, a name reminding people of a good king. And his sister, who will certainly be married to him whether she likes it or not, cannot have a name of her own. It can only be built on his as if she cannot be anything else but a womb. Of course, his little Jaehaerys claiming Vermithor would serve his plans.
"They could, Your Grace. But claiming a dragon cost my brother an eye. I wouldn't wish this on my son or my daughter."
Viserys' lips shake.
"I will find the dragon eggs myself, Your Grace."
The throne room buzzes now.
"They are rare. But I have the time for it."
It feels like a slap.
He has the time because he isn't given anything else to do.
"You... may do as you please. Is that all, my son?"
He sees, for a moment, a hint of surprise, of hesitation in his child's eyes before he puts on his armour again.
"Yes. Thank you for granting me some of your precious time, Your Grace."
His son is a stranger to him despite living by his side, he thinks, as he watches Aegon leave, joined by Leon Estermont, Martyn Reyne and Eddard Waters, the young men he befriended recently.
It is horrible.
It is a tragedy.
Viserys would like it to change but he doesn't know how. How can things change when Aegon won't listen?
The fault, perhaps, doesn't lie with him.