Familiarity ||| Jacaerys Velaryon

thirty-one

Daemon laughed, giggling like a child when he received the letter about the outcome of the battle at Rook's Rest.

His beautiful, perfect, charming little dragon had dragged the usurper back to Dragonstone. His silly plan had backfired, his dragon was devoured by Cannibal, and the Greens had lost a significant portion of their army.

Otto Hightowers perfect King grandson. In a cell on Dragonstone. Destroyed by Daemon's daughter. It was almost too perfect. How badly Daemon wanted to rub it in.

Sadly, he could not. Because he was still gathered with the riverlords at Harrenhal. Some, in fact, had turned on Aegon. When it had been discovered what disaster had happened at Rook's Rest.

On Dragonstone, Rhaenyra was careful with her response. Many thought Aegon was dead. That would make Aemond a King instead of a regent. And they needed to sew doubt into their enemies.

They spent many days, while maesters healed Aegon's wounds, drafting the letter they would send the Greens and the rest of the Houses.

The gist of that letter would be a simple warning; they had Aegon. Any wrong move, any provocation, and they would kill and send his body back to them.

Perhaps Aemond wouldn't mind that. He would take his place as the rightful king; he'd always meant to take that spot over Aegon. It was he with the wife and the heirs, he who could fight and studied the histories.

But the letter Rhaenyra was writing made clear how Aemond survived that battle; by fleeing. That letter would go to allies as well as enemies. And those who cared for honour might be tempted to sway.

Alyssa found out from one of the knights that Aegon was finally awake. Injured and angry, of course. But he was awake and in the dungeons.

It was obvious there was a great hatred Aegon held in him for Alyssa. And she knew more than pure hate it was the absence of love. He hated himself because he was desperate to feel what she'd let him feel when she was at court.

Because even as a King, no one loved him. Only out of obligation, to use him. Alyssa hid that. And that's what made it feel so special.

She knew, without having to ask, that Rhaenyra wanted her to wear him down mentally. They needed information. And they could have tortured him, of course, but that required time. Perhaps Alyssa could lay a bit of the groundwork.

It wasn't hard. Because Alyssa didn't have to hide her disgust.

The dungeons were grungy and dirty; there hadn't been reason to put a prison in there for years. Not while Rhaenyra had inhabited it as heir.

Candles and torches provided the only source of light; there weren't any windows down there. That also meant that the dungeons smelled strongly of urine, feces, musk, and mould.

Alyssa turned her nose up at it, feeling as if simply smelling the scents would cause her burn to become infected. Still, when she got close to Aegon's cell, she fixed her face.

Showing him any hint of mercy would break that illusion.

She found Aegon sitting on the ground of his cell. Hands in chains, his hair messy and matted, leaning against the wall because his legs were still healing.