As Aegon donned his armor, the weight of the impending battle pressing heavily on his shoulders, the door to his chambers creaked open. Expecting Larys Strong with his usual cryptic advice, Aegon was surprised to see his younger brother standing there instead. The boy, a pale reflection of Helaena in his prophetic gifts, had always been more straightforward yet spoke in riddles of his own.

"Aegon," his brother said, his voice calm but carrying an urgent undertone. "The dragon's roar will echo through empty halls if you march today."

Aegon paused, his hands freezing on the straps of his breastplate. "What are you talking about? Our enemies are gathering, and I must lead our forces."

His brother stepped closer, eyes fixed on Aegon with an intensity that belied his years. "A golden helm will glitter in betrayal. Blood will spill where loyalty should stand."

Aegon frowned, unease prickling at the back of his mind. "Speak plainly, brother. What do you mean?"

"If you go into battle today," his brother continued, his voice unwavering, "the scales will tip against you. One you trust will wield a dagger in the dark. Do not fly to Rook's Rest."

Aegon's heart raced. "Who will betray me? Is it one of my own men?"