From Low Born to King

Chapter Three: Prince Of DragonStone

Aegon

-Fourteen years later-

Aegon finds himself awake at the crack of dawn, suddenly unable to sleep. A little annoyed, he sits up and sighs, brushing dark ringlets of hair out of his face. Outside his window, he can hear people opening up their shops down below on the streets of King's Landing.
Yawning, he gets up and stretches. Now fourteen years old, Aegon is similar to his father, with a love for reading.

But he also has the same recklessness Lyanna once had. The same wolf's blood, as Rhaegar and Ser Arthur Dayne called it. Aegon never knew his mother personally, and always wanted to question his father about her, but he would always see a sadness in King Rhaegar's purple eyes.
Like a part of Rhaegar died that day, and Aegon dare not mention his mother's name if his father was in the same room as him.

Unlike Rhaegar, however, Aegon isn't the best at singing. His father can sing sweet songs about ancient tales of magic and mystery, always a pleasure to see whenever Rhaegar hosted dinner parties. Aegon had found this out years ago, when he had woken up and cried from a nightmare.

He still remembers how his father practically bolted into his room, Aegon no older than three or four years old. Rhaegar had picked him up and held him to his chest, then began to sing. Aegon can't remember the lyrics, let alone the song, but he remembers the love and care Rhaegar put into those words. He sang and rocked the young Prince of DragonStone, pacing his room, the moonlight making his silver hair glow.

He also recalls that sad look in his purple eyes, sadness but also love.
Unlike the past Targaryen Kings besides Aegon the Conqueror, Rhaegar openly shows love to his only child. Whether that be offering Aegon more of his favorite dish: oatmeal and iced milk with honey, giving him more books, or kissing his forehead as a sign of affection.
Aegon always gets embarrassed by the last one, even if both father and son are alone before bed.

He may always get embarrassed, but he doesn't want the affection to stop. He secretly likes it. Sometimes, when Rhaegar kisses him on the forehead or cheek, he would imagine his mother Lyanna doing it. He knows it isn't her, but it's nice to daydream every once and a while.

Yawning, Aegon walks over to his dresser and looks in the mirror. His hair is a tangled mess. Knowing he can't walk the halls of the Red Keep looking like a mess, he grabs the wooden brush, hoping he won't scalp himself. After the third stroke, he cringes as the brush finds a knot. "Need help, Aegon?"
Aegon jumps slightly in alarm, whirling around and making the brush clatter to the stone floor.

Rhaegar laughs softly and walks over, picking up the brush for him. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you," his father murmurs, smiling warmly.
"It's fine," Aegon answers, hand hovering in the air, debating on letting his father help him.
Rhaegar is already dressed in his usual clothes, mainly wearing all black, save for the red cape and small rubies designed in the shape of a dragon on his chest.

"You can help, if you're not too busy," Aegon says, then sighs. "What am I saying? You're the king, you will always be busy."
"That's not entirely true," Rhaegar muses, seeing his son sit down in the small chair in front of the mirror. Brushing Aegon's hair, he continues, "I'll always make time in my day for you, my little black drake. Just because I'm king doesn't mean I'm still not your father."

Aegon can see his own cheeks burn in the mirror, then quickly looks down. Little black drake. Father hasn't called him that in years. Rhaegar laughs softly and finishes. "Besides," Rhaegar smiles, setting the brush on the dresser, "your fifteenth birthday is coming up in a few days. I have a few interesting things planned for you." With that said, he exits.