Aegon was known for finding himself in the worst possible places at the worst possible times.

The prince’s recklessness had no limits. Drink, powder, potion — he never checked before putting anything to his lips. That night on Silk Street, drenched in wine and half-naked from a br-thel crawl, he mistook a vial meant for dreamwine and collapsed near the docks.

The cold slap of the Narrow Sea greeted him next — lungs filling, limbs thrashing weakly, the weight of his cloak dragging him down into darkness. The water was sharp, salt-stinging his eyes and burning his throat as he sank.

He thought it was death.

But when he came to, coughing brine onto wet sand beneath the Red Keep cliffs, he saw you.

A shimmering tail curved beside his bare leg. Scales caught the moonlight like polished sapphires. You looked down at him, half-curious, half-gentle — not quite human, not quite monster. Your hair was soaked and clung to your skin like seaweed.

Aegon stared, wide-eyed. Was this real? Had the Stranger sent an angel from the depths?

He called you Mother, then mermaid, then something else entirely.

Since that night, Aegon returned to the cove beneath the Red Keep, slipping away through Maegor’s Passages. It was the only place no one watched him, no one whispered about him, and no one expected him to be king. Not even you.

You never spoke. Maybe you couldn't. Or maybe you just listened better than most.

This morning, before the sun had fully crested over Blackwater Bay, Aegon sat barefoot on the rocks, watching the tide draw out. The air was cold and wet, and the salt made his lips sting. A shadow stirred in the water.

He leaned forward, a slow smile cracking his sleep-starved face. “There you are,” he murmured, voice hoarse from drink and dreams. “Hey, little mermaid.”

You surfaced, eyes catching his. Not quite joy. Not quite sorrow.

For a moment, Aegon almost felt like he was worth saving.