The dungeons of the Red Keep had many levels. In the darkest depths, far beyond the light of the sun, only the most broken men sat in their refuse, long driven mad by the darkness and silence. They were not allowed the mercy of death, but they were also not truly alive.

The highest level, the most comfortable, had actual furniture and light and was completely packed. The day before the royal wedding, a great many people were in the capital, rich and poor alike. The princess' party was just one of three such large groups that the gold cloaks had thrown in till the morrow.

Aurion leaned back on his bed, sharing his cell with Antarro Rogare, the older man pacing around the cramped room.

"It's just a few hours," Aurion said.

"Yes, but after that? They'll send me back to Oldtown, I know it," Antarro said in his soft Lysene accent. "I'll have to work at my father's bank. Gods, I can't imagine anything worse."

Aurion shrugged.

"I don't know. Your father might recall you out of embarrassment, but nothing overly scandalous happened. At least to the Princess, and that's the only one of us Viserys will care about."

Aurion knew Viserys Targaryen well enough. He was, after all, his uncle on his mother's side. Aurion had been at the royal court since he was six years old, during the reign of Aegon the Third. He had watched Viserys serve as the hand of the king that whole time.

Viserys was a dutiful man. While easily led into such things as a Dornish War that, despite King Daeron's insistence, didn't seem to be ending any time soon, or Baelor's larger acts of piety, he did seem to ensure that such frivolities were carried out as efficiently as possible. Daena didn't like him very much, seeing him as a disciplinarian who ironically couldn't do a thing to keep his own children in line, but it was hard to hate the man.

A gurgle from a nearby cell drew Aurion's attention. He stood off the straw bed and walked over the bars, looking across the hall. He expected one of his party- perhaps Ogg Ogth from the deep throaty groans. But instead, he saw a young man with silver hair sitting on the floor, his head leaning against the bed. He was fit and firm, a very handsome man when he wasn't dry-heaving or had black bags beneath his eyes. At twenty-five, he was technically a man grown, but Aurion had never seen him act like it.

"Aegon?" Aurion asked.

"Huh, wuh?" The drunk mumbled, looking around for the source of the noise, his violet eyes finally settling on Aurion. "Oh, heyyyyyy."

He stretched out that last word like a man on the rack.

"You too, huh? Father said I had to sleep it oft. Ridiculous. Should've-" Aegon paused to burp or stop himself from throwing up, but Aurion couldn't quite discern.

This wastrel was the son of the Hand of the King, Aegon Targaryen. One day, Aurion knew, he would be Aegon the fourth Targaryen, arguably the worst king in Westerosi history. But right now, he was a besotted drunk.

"You alone?" Aurion asked.

"Pfft. Cassela and I gathered our swords and laid siege to Castalla's brothel. There, we battled against the defenders for almost the whole night till my father lifted the siege and threw me here!" Aegon shouted, getting louder and louder. "My cousin would've been impressed by my martial display, that is certain!"

Aegon was a jealous man. Most of that was towards his brother, Aemon, who men already called the Dragonknight. But Aegon spared at least some of that bitterness for his cousin, the king.

Aurion sighed and lazily saluted the prince, sitting down with his back against the bars.

"So, what are-" Aegon paused, swallowing down vomit before effortlessly continuing. "-you in for?"

Aurion ran a hand through his hair, which was already starting to curl.

"Princess Daena wanted one last night of freedom."

"And she didn't invite her favourite cousin? That bitch!" Aegon shouted, trying to clamber onto his feet but only succeeding in falling into the bars of his cell. If that hurt, Aegon didn't show it. "I suppose it must've been fun if you are here."

Aurion chuckled.

"Wasn't bad."

Aegon laughed back.

"So, did you teach her what she is to do tomorrow?" Aegon asked licentiously.

Aurion rolled his eyes, thankful his back was to the prince.

"No, Prince Aegon. She and I are friends and nothing more."

"Right, friends," Aegon said drolly.

"We've known each other since we were six. It would be like fucking my sister," Aurion said, at last dropping his manners. Though it was ironic, given he didn't really know either of his actual sisters, that actually having sex with Daena would arguably be stranger. That was an unpleasant thought and probably a reminder that Aurion had spent the last six years here, and it might've rubbed off.

"And?" Aegon asked, genuinely confused.

Oh, right, Aurion thought to himself. Targaryen. I walked into that one.

"Never mind," Aurion mumbled. Antarro fiddled with his belt and the empty sheath upon it, trying to hold a phantom dagger. "Could you relax?"

Antarro glanced at the younger man, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better and nodded, sitting on the other bed.

"Can't imagine that Viserys will let you stay in the capital if he imprisoned you," Aegon said from across the hall.

Aurion closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore the prince, deciding to at least try to fall asleep there, with his back against the bars of the cell.

____________________________________________

It was around nine that Aurion fell back and smacked his head against the stone floor, the bars behind him opening. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked up from the floor straight into the not-too-pleased eyes of Prince Viserys Targaryen himself.

Clean-shaven, with a prominent nose and piercing eyes, Viserys was quite the sight to wake up to. He glared down at Aurion with his sharp purple eyes but looked upwards towards Antarro.

"In one hour, a guard will come by to let you out. Get dressed and ready for the wedding," Viserys commanded.

Then he turned and walked away, making it evident that Aurion was supposed to follow. He scrambled to his feet, rubbing his neck and back while dutifully trotting off after him, glancing into Aegon's cell to see he was still there, snoring away.

They walked out of the dungeons and out into the very early light, the sun barely cresting the horizon, casting long, hazy shadows against the red brick stones. Then they entered a tower, climbing its many spiral steps until they reached the top, entering a solar.

A desk of blood-red mahogany wood dominated the middle of the round room, an almost throne-like chair behind it, carved with the many great sigil animals of Westeros, topped by nothing else but a three-headed dragon roaring. Viserys carefully sat down as if the chair might eat him, then placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, steepling his fingers and looking over them towards Aurion.

On his part, young Aurion couldn't help but stand ramrod straight, tensing to his full height of just over 6 feet tall.

"You're the final child I must talk to concerning last night. Can you imagine why I'm speaking to you last?" Viserys asked in a voice not dissimilar to a few teachers Aurion could've once remembered.

He quietly swallowed before answering.

"I am Daena's closest friend, and therefore, you believe that I might have an outside influence on the events that occurred," Aurion replied.

Viserys furrowed his brow.

"Always so verbose in your excuses, as if sheer quantity of words might drown out your guilt. I'll give you a chance to explain what happened from your point of view before I tell you what the others of your brothel raid said about these events."

Aurion nodded.

"The Princess wished to celebrate her upcoming wedding-"

The Princess wished to mourn her days as a free woman.

"And so..."

Whom should I blame? The Princess herself? Cowardly. Someone not here? Cowardly and likely to get them exiled or imprisoned.

"We decided to head out into the city, slipping our guard. We settled on Mother's, as the drinks were good and it was large enough to hold our party. A few of our party partook in the establishment's primary purpose, but the Princess herself did not."

That was going to be the main concern, Aurion figured. Daena's blasted purity, as if it mattered when the man she was marrying was likely never going to touch her. Or, y'know, the fact she was barely five and ten years old.

"Did you?" Viserys asked.

"I don't see how that is-" Aurion couldn't help but reply.

"Answer the damned question," Viserys commanded.

Aurion nodded.

"I did not. I spent most of the evening talking to the Princess and a few other close friends, drinking with them. I never slipped off to anywhere private, and I didn't bring any money for which to pay for services rendered."

Plus, I'm in no hurry to catch something that will rot my dick off.

Momentarily confused, Viserys raised an eyebrow, some of the sternness fading from his face.

"How did you pay for drinks?" Viserys asked, genuinely confused. He shook his head, returning to business.

Aurion, however, did not.

"When one is travelling with a Princess, one tends not to have to pay for drinks," Aurion said, remarkably pleased with himself at how he managed not to sound pleased with himself.

Viserys glowered at the young man, who apologised quietly.

"Laenora claimed much of the same thing- That she managed to stop you from taking advantage of the Princess. And the Brune boy said he never saw anything more than a hug between the two of you."

It was nice, Aurion thought, that nobody had lied about him. Well, Leonora had almost thrown him to the wolves, but she at least didn't tie a steak of beef around him as well.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Did you believe I'd incriminate myself?" Aurion asked. While Viserys was the Hand of the King and the second most powerful person in Westeros, behind a seventeen-year-old boy, he was also his uncle, and there were certain liberties he should be allowed to take, even if Viserys thought otherwise.

Viserys glared at his nephew.

"No. I just wanted to see what lie you'd spin. As it was, I don't believe you're lying. But even the truth is enough."

Aurion focused, removing the indignation from his tone and maintaining a blank face.

"Enough for what?" Aurion asked, measuring his tone carefully.

"I understand the nature of Prince Baelor. It may be quite some years before Princess Daena is with child, if ever. Everyone, rich and poor, great and small, knows of Baelor's character. Should she be with child quickly, a great many will question such a child's paternity. And last night made it abundantly clear that Daena will always act in a way that will only draw further suspicion," Viserys explained. For a few moments, he looked into the middle distance, a memory that Aurion was not privy to playing in the theatre of his mind. "Not again."

Aurion tried to remain calm, but he could guess the trajectory of this conversation already.

"Daena will protest what you're going to do," Aurion said. "I am her friend. As are the others."

"I can cope with the anger of one Princess. Besides, Daeron arranged this marriage, and if she did not follow my commands, she would follow her brother's. She will make new friends. Friends less likely to draw suspicion upon themselves."

Nobody in this fucking world believes a girl and a boy genuinely can just be friends, can they? Fuck's sake, she's literally 15.

Aurion didn't wish to play this card, but it was a powerful one left in his deck.

"And my father? What might he have to say about it?" Aurion asked.

"You and I both know, Aurion Velaryon, that your lord father doesn't truly care about whether you are here or are returned to Driftmark. I'll send for your younger sister to replace you at court. I'm certain he'll find a suitable knight for you to continue your training under. Ultimately, in ten years, when Daeron has an heir and children of his own blood, you may return to court," Viserys commanded.

Aurion held a hand behind his back, this hidden fist clenching.

"Might I stay for the wedding?" Aurion asked.

Viserys glowered, then shook his head.

"Lady Leonora mentioned an offer you made to Princess Daena. I cannot chance that she will take you up on it now," Viserys said. He drew a small money pouch and placed it on the desk, pushing it towards Aurion. "They'll be a ship heading to Driftmark. Take it, and nobody involved will ever comment upon your lack of presence at the wedding. I can swear to you that your honour will not be questioned. Remain, and I can make no such promises."

Aurion stared at the pouch.

Home.

Aurion had never returned to Driftmark, not since the coma that they both awoke from. Mother, his two sisters and his older brother had visited him at the Red Keep, but he had never made the return journey.

If it was debatable that King's Landing was truly his home rather than a place he had lived in for the past six years as somebody else, there was no such question with Driftmark. It was even less than that.

It held nothing for him.

Begrudgingly, Aurion reached for the coin purse, tucking it into his shirt, the gold dragons smacking against his chest.

Visterys nodded.

"You'll be escorted to the docks. For your own safety."

And to see you gone, Aurion knew.

He also knew there was no changing his uncle's mind. Viserys had likely been wishing him out of the way for some time if his haste was anything to go by. Of course, he saw threats where there were none and ignored his own son.

A gold cloak opened the door, his mail clinking as he walked towards the two of them. With nothing more to say, Aurion stood up, turned on his feet, and marched out of the room. If he were to be thrown out of the capital, he'd walk on his own two feet.

___________________________

It had been hard to sail away from the capital. The lone ship named The Lowtide left the port of King's Landing less than an hour after Aurion had been practically thrown aboard. Aurion could hear the bells ring out far across the bay, celebrating the wedding of Daena and Baelor Targaryen. Great red flames burned from the towers of the Red Keep, which could be seen from miles away.

Aurion turned his back to the fire, to the capital. And he focused instead on learning the ropes- Literally. 6 years of learning to be a knight, knowing that House Velaryon's legacy and wealth were found at sea. He knew basics; he studied Maester's written treatises and Sailor accounts, but he had never been useful aboard a ship.

That changed.

"Captain," Aurion said, wearing his most simple outfit of a spun cloth grey shirt and leather pants held in place by a simple leather belt. "I wish to help."

The captain, a salt-bitten man in his mid-forties, stared at this gangly, noble teenager. He knew his father, Alyn Velaryon. He knew that he had some damned blood claim to the sea or something absurd. He just couldn't find himself caring.

He pointed to a mop and a bucket.

"Scrub the deck," He ordered. It was a task somebody needed to do, and when the boy gave up and returned to his cabin for the rest of the three-day-long trip from King's Landing to Driftmark, the loss of a useless spare hand would not harm his ship.

He expected the boy to give up in less than an hour. Captain Arvas even tested the boy's patience, demanding he clean the same spot over and over again, not because he really needed it clean, he didn't, but to test if the boy would remain calm while asked to do the same monotonous task over and over again on the orders of a "lesser".

Something that, much to his surprise, the boy succeeded in. Two years of retail work, when he was last sixteen and years of work afterwards, had taught Aurion well enough, even having lived as a spoilt teenager for the last six. Quickly, however, the captain shrugged it off. Mopping a deck or two was one thing. It was monotonous, sure. But so was being on a ship for days; it wasn't testing him.

Quite why Arvas decided he needed to "Test" the boy, even he couldn't quite tell. When the next day dawned, and Aurion asked to be given something else to do, Arvas gave him something far worse.

"Yeah. Climb the rigging, boy. When I, the navigator or the first mate shout, you're to help the others furl and unfurl the sail. Do as you're told; stay up there till I tell you otherwise. You can climb, right?" The captain asked.

Aurion paused for a second. He was a fit young man, but the environs of King's Landing rarely called for climbing anything more than maybe the trees of the Godswood as a child. He looked up at the rigging and the slightly sodden ropes.

"Yes sir," He decided to answer and hoped for the best.

"Then get to it!" Captain Arvas shouted.

Aurion scrambled up the rigging like a monkey, his enthusiasm and speed doing more to keep him up there, high above the main deck, than skill and experience.

For the entire day, from sunrise to maybe five minutes before the sun finally fell beneath the horizon, Aurion stayed up in the rigging, even eating two meals up there. It was a perilous, vertigo-inducing job, with the winds of the Blackwater Bay shifting this way and that every hour. It was there that Aurion actually talked to the other boys and men in the crew.

With a piece of bread and cheese in his hands, Aurion looped his arms inside one of the square holes the ropes made and sat down next to a boy his age. With pitch-black wirey hair and a wide face, he was near Aurion's complete opposite in looks. Both were gangly teenagers, however.

"Your first voyage?" The boy asked.

"Second. I once made the trip from Driftmark to King's Landing years ago," Aurion replied. He tore into the tough bread and bit down on a piece of cheese, slowly melting in the midday sun.

"Pfft. As if that counts," the boy replied, smacking the piece of hard bread against the rope, less he lost a tooth biting into it without softening it up a little. "I've been sailing since I was ten."

"Damn. Where are you from?" Aurion asked.

"Duskendale. I've been on this ship for a year now, Arvas promised he'd make me a naviagator. Since I can read and all."

"You can read?" Aurion asked, hoping that didn't sound too weird, but it was a fair question of a boy who clambered up and down ropes for a living.

"Aye. Last captain I served taught me letters and some numbers. Would've stayed with him, but he died in a squall off of the Arbor two years ago, and the man who replaced him hated me," he explained. He furrowed his brow. "Forgot, have I said me name?"

Aurion laughed.

"No, you haven't," Aurion replied.

The boy held out his hand.

"Dontos."

Aurion clasped his hand into his own.

"Aurion," he replied, shaking his hand.

____________________

The next morning, Aurion was up the rigging again without even being asked by the captain or asking Arvas. The winds around Driftmark were calm, but they needed to steer her into port.

Hull, the last remaining city on Driftmark, had seen better days. She had not sustained much damage in the Dance directly, but the slowly fading fortunes of House Velaryon, even under his father's stewardship, had seen fewer and fewer ships anchor at the port. Most preferred to continue on to Duskendale or King's Landing. Fewer hulls were being built, Braavos having overtaken the island's once venerable shipbuilders in terms of both quality and quantity.

For the next two hours, their ship inched its way into port, eventually having to row itself in. Aurion changed into a smarter dress, the same shirt, cape and trousers he wore to Daena's party at the brothel four nights before and began to make his way down the gangplank. None of his family were there to greet him, likely requiring him to walk back to Castle Driftmark, the ancient stones looming over the port city. He glanced up at the water-damaged stone walls of a place he hadn't seen for eight years. Apparently, it was home. It was little to the boy Aurion once was and even less to the man he was now.

Captain Arvas marched behind him, his legs not quite yet used once again to solid ground. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, though they stood at roughly the same height.

"We'll be in town for no more than a day. Plan to sail off to Dragonstone before the sunsets, then off to Pentos after that. We shalln't meet again, Aurion, but you've been a better passenger than most," Arvas said, his grip on Aurion's shoulder tightening for just a second before loosening. Arvas awkwardly moved past the stationary Velaryon, starting to stumble off into Hull for a drink and a brief moment to relax.

Aurion glanced back at The Lowtide, then turned again to face the captain.

"Captain!" Aurion shouted. Arvas turned to face him. "There's little for me here, and I must learn some way. Take me with you."