The castle is unusually quiet today, a rare moment of peace in the midst of the chaos that always seems to surround your family. But that peace is broken by the sound of laughter, high-pitched and carefree, drifting down the hall.

Aegon.

He’s with Jaehaerys again. Your son’s laughter echoes through the corridors, followed closely by the deep rumble of your husband’s voice, playful in a way you’ve never heard before. It’s strange, seeing him like this — so soft and happy. The arrogance, the ruthlessness, the weight of his crown all seem to melt away when he’s with your son.

You find them in the solar, sunlight pouring in through the windows, illuminating the scene before you. Jaehaerys is perched on Aegon’s shoulders, his small hands gripping his father’s hair as they pretend to be dragons, weaving through the room with exaggerated roars. Aegon, the once sulky prince, now looks … at ease. He spins in circles, his face split into a wide grin, his laughter louder than Jaehaerys’s.

You say his name, a smile tugging at your lips as you lean against the doorway.

He turns to you, still grinning, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes — pride, contentment, something warmer than you’re used to seeing from him. “Look at him,” he says, “he’s going to be the greatest King this realm has ever seen.”

You chuckle, stepping closer as Jaehaerys reaches out for you, his little arms outstretched. You scoop him up, cradling him against your chest as his giggles die down.

He's still got some time before he needs to worry about that, you point out.

Aegon huffs, but it’s playful, not the sulky, resentful sound he often makes in council meetings. “Nonsense. He’s already learning. Took him to the council this morning — he needs to understand his future as well as his responsibilities.” You raise an eyebrow, knowing full well that Aegon is probably more interested in spending time with Jaehaerys than teaching him about governance.