Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 449 Aegon's Delay

At first, Egon thought the snow was beautiful.

Silvery-white snowflakes gently landed in his palm, melting in an instant, like some kind of mysterious greeting. The boy looked up, watching countless tiny ice crystals fall from the gray sky, and couldn't help but laugh. In King's Landing and Dragonstone, snow was a rare sight, and in Dragon's Nest, even in the dead of winter, there had never been such an overwhelming blanket of white. Only by going to the mountaintop could one experience the feeling of winter.

Aegon only managed to experience the feeling of snow by hitching a ride on Hargon's flight to the highest peak of the Crimson Mountains when winter had just begun.

"Dunk, look! It's snowing!" he shouted excitedly, reaching out to catch the falling snowflakes.

But Duncan did not respond.

Aegon turned around and saw that the boy, who was much taller and stronger than him, was now hunched over, his lips were purple, and his breathing was heavy and rapid. A thin layer of frost had formed on his eyelashes, and his eyes had lost their former vitality, becoming cloudy and tired.

"Dunk?" Aegon's voice suddenly became very soft.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Duncan forced a smile, but his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. "It's just a little cold."

But Egon knew this was more than just "a little cold." He quickly found his spare cloak and layered it with Duncan's, trying to keep Duncan's body temperature warm.

The snow is getting heavier.

What began as a gentle descent quickly turned into a raging roar. The wind whipped up icy shards, slicing across their faces like knives. The snowflakes, no longer soft white sprites, mingled with the wind, lashing their skin like whips. Aegon's cloak was soaked through, frozen into an icy shell, crackling with every step.

“This isn’t right.” Duncan’s voice grew weaker and weaker. “There shouldn’t be this kind of snow in the Stormlands.”

Aegon's heart raced. He remembered Hoffa's words about the harbinger of the Long Night: "When the Long Night comes, even the deserts of Dorne will freeze."

Is the legend true? Has the long night truly arrived?

But now is not the time to think about these things; they must find a warm place as soon as possible.

They found a hotel that was mostly buried in snow. The wooden sign was covered by snow, and only the words "Old Ma and..." could be barely made out.

"Quick!" Aegon grabbed Duncan and rushed inside, but the door was frozen. He had to pull out his dagger and chip away at the frozen lock. Although Aegon was still a big boy, he was growing very fast in Dragon's Nest City with plenty of nutrition and training. Although he was still far from being as big and clumsy as Duncan, kicking the door open was not a big problem.

The inn was deserted; the fireplace had long since gone out, and a thin layer of ice covered the floor, suggesting it had been abandoned for some time. But at least it offered shelter from the wind and snow.

"I'll go find something to burn." Aegon's voice trembled, whether from the cold or fear, it was hard to tell.

Duncan did not answer. He was already curled up in the corner, his tall body trembling uncontrollably, his cheeks burning red.

Aegon searched the entire inn, finding only a few damp planks and a half-empty bottle of ale with a lot of sediment. He tried to start a fire, but the wood was too wet, and after striking the flint for a long time, only a few pitiful sparks flew out.

"Damn it!" He kicked the wall hard, but it only made his already sore and painful foot hurt even more.

Duncan coughed weakly a few times, his voice hoarse: "Igor, forget about the fire, we have to keep going."

“You can’t walk anymore!” Aegon practically roared.

"If we don't leave, we'll die here."

Aegon bit his lip hard until he tasted blood. He knew Duncan was right. Aegon was the only male heir of the Targaryen family in this generation. He had received a very thorough education, including astronomy.

He could tell that the snow would continue to fall heavier and heavier, and it wouldn't stop anytime soon.

Aegon struggled to extract memories from his mind, recalling a safe place nearby.

The Bockler family's Copper Gate City is located nearby.

There was no time to waste. Aegon immediately brought out the last mule they had left. This winter was exceptionally harsh, and the mules, accustomed to the south, were already weakened by the wind and snow.

But there was no other way; Aegon didn't have the strength to carry Duncan any further, so he could only make things harder for Mule.

Duncan was too weak to climb onto the mule's back on his own, and Aegon had to use all his strength to push him up. He himself then trudged through the snow, holding the reins.

The mule walked very slowly, its breathing became heavier and heavier, and the white mist coming out of its nostrils became weaker and weaker.

"Faster. Faster," Aegon urged in a low voice, but the mule's pace grew slower and slower.

Finally, when the Bronze Gate City was in sight, the mule let out a mournful bray, its front legs buckled, and it knelt heavily on the snow.

"Get up!" Egon pulled on the reins, but the mule's eyes had lost their sparkle, and the snowstorm was still raging.

Duncan slid off the mule and fell heavily into the snowdrift. His breathing became even weaker, and his eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

"Dunk! Don't sleep!" Aegon slapped his face hard. "We're almost there! Look—" He pointed into the distance. In the twilight, Bronze Gate was already close at hand, the castle brightly lit, like the only hope in the darkness.

“Get up! Please!” Aegon almost cried out, “I can’t carry you! You have to walk yourself!”

Duncan's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only nodded with difficulty. He leaned on Aegon's shoulder and stood up unsteadily.

One step, two steps, three steps.
In the wind and snow, the two boys' figures were as small as ants, yet they stubbornly moved towards that glimmer of light.

Aegon didn't know if Coppergate would save them, when the snow would stop, or even if Duncan could make it to tomorrow.

But he knew he couldn't stop.

"Open the door! Help us!"

Aegon's voice was so loud that it startled him. Behind him, Duncan seemed like a leaning tower, his entire body pressing down on Aegon's shoulders, his scalding breath hot against Aegon's neck. But Duncan struggled to stand, trying not to actually press down on Aegon.

Suddenly, torches on the battlements lit up, and a red-haired boy peeked out, his emerald eyes squinting in the wind and snow.

"Who are you?" Ser Cedric Buckler's voice came from above. He was the heir to Earl Diggory Buckler, who was now serving in the armies of Duke Leonor Baratheon and Ser Stephen Baratheon, and had taken most of the Bronze Gate's troops with him.

Aegon tilted his head back, snowflakes falling into his eyes. He quickly licked his chapped lips, hesitated for a moment, and then habitually began to fabricate a lie:

"I am Ser Duncan's squire, Ego. He comes from House Lundal and is a retainer of Lord Hargen Lundal, the 'Lion King.' We encountered a blizzard while delivering the message."

Cedric's gaze fell on Aegon's frozen, pale face.

"Do you have any evidence?"

Aegon struggled to lift Duncan's longsword, a gift from Hoffa, its scabbard adorned with striking silver dragons and laurel leaves. Soldiers on the battlements threw down baskets, and Aegon hesitated, but still placed the sword in the basket and had the guards hoist it up.

The moment Cedric saw the sword, he knew it was indeed a Varezes family item. The craftsmanship of the scabbard alone was enough to prove it, not to mention the obvious bloodsteel steel when it was drawn.

However, knights of the Lundel family should, in principle, wear the emblem of the serpent and the silver lion.

Cedric didn't reveal it. Because when Braavos was destroyed and the Long Night suddenly began, Dragon's Nest sent letters to the castles along the way, letters about Aegon and Duncan.

The letter contained only one request: whichever castle they sought lodging in, the lord there should detain them and protect them.

"Open the door!" he shouted behind him. "Prepare mulled wine and blankets!"

Inside the stone hall of Bronze Gate, the firelight from the fireplace dispelled the chill. The maids bustled about changing Duncan into dry clothes, the maester frantically prepared medicine for his cold and bled him with a dagger, while Aegon stood by, his violet eyes scanning the surroundings warily.

"Aren't you going to wash your hair?" Cedric suddenly handed over a hot towel, asking casually.

Aegon's fingers paused slightly. His hair hadn't been styled or dyed for some time, and although the initial dye had held up well, the original color was still faintly visible at the roots.

"It's too cold." He forced a smile. "Let's talk when it gets warmer."

Cedric nodded, asked no further questions, and simply instructed the servants to prepare dinner.

The aroma of roasted venison filled the long table. Aegon sat upright, his grip on the knife and fork so precise it was unbelievable for a servant, and his movements as he cut the meat were elegant to the point of being almost instinctive.

Cedric observed this, a knowing glint in his emerald eyes.

That was indeed Prince Aegon.

"You're from the south, so you probably don't know," he put down his glass, lowering his voice, "that a long winter, harsher than any other, has arrived. The legendary things have jumped out of the books—the seven levels of hell! If the Braavos hadn't brought enough evidence, no one would believe the legends were true. It's said that the Duke of Stark has already seen it with his own eyes."

Aegon's knife plunged sharply into the plate.

"The Great Wall...has fallen?"

“Not yet,” Cedric shook his head. “But nobody knows how long the Wall can hold out. I heard the dragon riders have already gone to provide support.”

His gaze landed meaningfully on Aegon's face.

"Including your father, Prince Mecca. Your Highness Aegon, this castle is safe, you do not need to conceal your identity."

Egon's breath hitched.

(End of this chapter)