111 AC was destined to be remembered.
What had begun as a celebration soon became a turning point—quiet at first, almost invisible, but powerful enough to shape the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.
A grand tournament had been held in King's Landing to celebrate the fifth anniversary of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. On the surface, it was a display of harmony and royal splendor.
Yet beneath that surface, lines were already being drawn.
Because of the colors they wore at the banquet, Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra were soon spoken of as the Greens and the Blacks. What began as idle court gossip quickly hardened into factions.
And standing at the center of all attention—
Prince Aegon Targaryen, the King's eldest son.
Throughout the banquet, he had remained in Viserys's arms, laughing, speaking sweet words, and receiving the King's undivided affection. Many noticed it. Few forgot it.
---
Half a year later, the fragile calm shattered once again.
Prince Daemon Targaryen and King Viserys fell out for the second time.
Daemon was exiled back to the Stepstones, officially accused of seducing Princess Rhaenyra. Whether truth or convenient excuse, no one could say—but the result was clear.
Daemon was gone.
Then events began to move quickly.
112 AC brought change after change.
The former Commander of the Kingsguard passed away, and Ser Criston Cole was appointed Lord Commander.
The Grand Scholar died, and Grand Scholar Mellos succeeded him.
Power shifted quietly, but decisively.
Between 112 and 113 AC, Queen Alicent judged the time ripe and proposed a marriage between Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aegon—a union that could have ended all disputes before they truly began.
King Viserys refused.
Not only that—he warned Alicent that continued insistence could endanger her son's future. Under pressure, Rhaenyra was forced to accept marriage to Laenor Velaryon, a man widely known throughout the Seven Kingdoms to prefer men.
Soon after, Ser Criston Cole and Princess Rhaenyra became bitter enemies. Rumors spread that she had rejected his proposal to flee together and humiliated him deeply.
By then, the realm was already trembling.
---
114 AC
The training grounds outside the Red Keep echoed with the sound of clashing wood.
A young Prince Aegon, gripping a wooden sword, faced Ser Criston Cole under the open sky. Sweat clung to his brow as he moved, small body tense but precise.
Wood struck wood.
Again.
And again.
Queen Alicent watched from the side, her eyes filled with quiet pride.
At six years old, Aegon had only learned the basics—how to stand, how to grip a blade, how to swing.
Now, at seven—
He could exchange several moves with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
His progress was astonishing.
Even Criston Cole found himself surprised.
Of course, if Criston used his full strength, the fight would end in two moves. In a real battle, Aegon would not survive a single breath.
But for a child?
This was frightening talent.
"Your Highness," Criston said as he lowered his wooden sword, "your improvement is far faster than I expected. At this rate, I may soon have nothing left to teach you."
Aegon laughed softly and rubbed his arm, where the wood had struck hard enough to leave a red mark.
"Thank you for the praise, Ser Criston. Though if you could strike a little lighter next time, I would be eternally grateful."
Criston flushed slightly.
When sparring with Aegon, he was forced to focus—and when he focused, his blows naturally became heavier.
From nearby, Ser Arryk Cargyll chuckled.
"Your Highness's technique leaves Ser Criston no choice but to take you seriously."
This was no flattery.
It was the truth.
Aegon waved his hand lightly. "Enough, or I'll grow proud. Have you eaten? Care to join me?"
Before Criston could respond, Arryk shook his head quickly.
"Thank you, Your Highness, but we have our own place."
Aegon frowned faintly.
"His Majesty wants you close to me. People are most vulnerable while eating. Stop arguing—follow me."
In the end, Arryk could only comply.
---
The dining hall was quieter than the great feast chamber.
Arryk sat opposite Aegon, his posture stiff.
"Relax, Ser," Aegon said with a smile. "Do I look that frightening?"
Arryk exhaled. "No… I am only nervous. I was thinking of the bards' praises of you."
Aegon's smile did not reach his eyes.
At some point, a saying had begun to circulate through the realm:
Prince Aegon possessed the bearing of Aegon the Conqueror himself.
The comparison was dangerous.
And intentional or not, it was a direct blow to Princess Rhaenyra's authority.
Few dared mention it openly in the Red Keep.
"I don't like those rumors," Aegon said calmly. "My affection for my sister is unquestionable."
Arryk fell silent.
The words were sincere.
The expression was not.
"Ser Arryk," Aegon continued, his voice gentle but firm, "I value your loyalty and ability. That is why you may speak freely before me—but only before me. Do you understand?"
Arryk's face paled.
He suddenly realized how close he had come to disaster.
The Kingsguard did not choose heirs.
They protected the King.
White cloaks swore to obey royal commands, guard royal secrets, and defend royal honor—not to involve themselves in succession.
Whether they protected others depended entirely on the King's will.
Some kings sent them to guard queens, children, siblings—even lovers.
Others kept all seven by their side at all times.
Viserys belonged to the former.
He allowed Aegon to choose a Kingsguard to protect him.
Aegon had chosen Ser Arryk Cargyll without hesitation.
In another future, Arryk would be fiercely loyal to the Greens.
And if fate allowed—
Aegon would also claim his twin, Ser Erryk Cargyll.
Not only to prevent the brothers from killing each other as history once demanded—
But to secure two of the finest shields a prince could ever have.
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