The Brightest Sun

Chapter 58

Egg grunted, quickly dodging left as he felt Viserys' blade whistle through the air to clang against his shield.

Not bloody fair, he thought, seeing the glint of humour in Viserys' eyes. His uncle was enjoying himself far more than Egg was, almost glowing as he parried the blow.

"Faster, Egg," he taunted, "do show your prowess, nephew. The kingdoms won't tolerate a non-martial king."

Egg scowled, scrambling backwards before he dropped into a duelling stance. Egg had learned the hard way that when Vis was given a sword, the older prince was far more deadly than he expected for someone quite thoroughly wrapped around his sister's pinkie.

Viserys' softer side was reserved for family, Daenerys and Maia – and now Lewyn – able to coax a side of him that Egg knew was rarely seen. Caelyx had pulled forth the same excitement he and Rhae had shown when they had bonded with their dragons, but Viserys' lightness was tempered with a heavy burden.

His father had a knowing look in his eyes whenever he found time to see Viserys in the sparring yard, only telling Aegon that Vis was a kindred spirit.

A sharp sting to his thigh was followed by a jarring hit to his arm as their shields clashed, Viserys pushing him back before he threw his shield aside.

Egg dropped his in turn, lips pressed in a firm line as he warily watched Viserys.

Duelling with magic was not quite the same; Egg was fast with a wand in hand, the magic simply an extension of him, and Master Fenton had thought to make Aegon just as quick with a sword in hand.

Pity for him that the world he now lived in was quite different from the one he came from. Viserys was quick with his blade – almost as quick as Ser Arthur – and Egg knew the two men had fought in battle, each warning him that it was not the same as a spar. These men had lived with their swords, spending much time learning the many ways they could kill a man with it.

Viserys shifted quickly, blade arcing high as Egg raised his sword to meet it, the scratch of metal ringing through the air as he slid his blade across Viserys'. A whack to his lower rib was countered with a hit to Viserys' elbow, the scowl on his face letting him know he felt it through his gambeson.

The spar was over in a few minutes, Viserys' blade pointed at his neck while Egg's was held to the soft flesh of his armpit.

"You've gotten better," Viserys told him, taking the blunted blade to the rack.

"I've spent the last six months training," Egg deflected.

"Not all the time. You're a quick learner, which is good," Viserys replied. "Aegon, you must learn to take praise with grace."

"I can handle praise," Egg grumbled, accepting the waterskin.

They were alone in the sparring yard; his siblings were off in the godswood, putting the final touches on the pseudo-armour for the dragons. Auriga and Iacomus' scales had hardened considerably, but Teddy was nothing if not considerate – paranoid, really – of the dragons, and so they had a set of mail made for them, the chain covering the soft flesh of their limbs.

"You're too humble," Viserys retorted. "What kind of king is so humble he would tell me I was being too kind simply for handing him a washcloth?"

Egg flushed, scowling lightly at the taunting grin on Viserys' face. His uncle had told him time and again he was ill named, for whom else deserved the name Baelor.

"If I have a son, I'm naming him Baelor just to spite you," Egg told him.

"I knew you cared nephew, but that you would name a son after me?"