The Orange Shore

"It is entirely possible," Laena confirmed, glancing at the Lord Commander in surprise. "Though very difficult to tell, especially when I cannot examine my son's body, or the scene in which he was found. Sorcery is hard to trace, especially for the uninitiated. Neither Maegor and nor Rhaella were blessed with such skills. I doubt it has even occurred to Rhaella."

"We'll learn nothing here gabbing," Brandon said, with a shrug, "Best rest up, it's a long flight home."

Aegon nodded his assent to both Brandon and Elseyris. "See that it is done. As the Lord Commander says, we have many miles to cover yet."

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The party is a bit further along their journey when Edmund Waters arrives with an exhausted dragon that looks familiar to Aegon in particular. The young rider looks slightly familiar to some of the party too; though none of the party can claim to know him well, Aegon and Rhaena recognise him as a former stableboy from Dragonstone and some members of the party recall having breifly seen him in the Dragonpit with the golden dragon shortly before their departure. A careful observer might also note that Edmund has something of the appearance of his late sire, Lord Valarr of Stonedance, though the resemblance is not immediately obvious.

"Your Grace!" Edmund cried as Aelyrion swooped low. "Your Grace, I bring word from the Queen."

As Aelyrion came to rest, Edmund climbed unsteadily down from his mount, legs aching from hours in the saddle, and headed towards Aegon with a sealed letter in hand.

Edmund took a moment to gather his breath before he knelt, handing Aegon the letter. The seal bore the stamp of House Targaryen in red wax. He couldn't help sneaking a peak at his royal cousin before he bent his head in the properly respectful gesture, drilled into him all his childhood.

"The Queen sent me to inform you of the King's murder, Your Grace. This letter is in Her Grace's own hand. She was very angry when she gave it to me."

"Not that I know, Your Grace." But the words not yet hung in the air between them. "I come as fast as I could. But...Your Grace, there was a dragon rider pursuing us. I didn't see the rider too clearly, but the rider wasn't in the city when I first came with Aelyrion. I've been living in the dragonpit most of the time, and that dragon come after I did."

"It was a while ago, a day at least," Edmund explained. "I'm sure I lost him. I think he wanted to kill me."

Orys took to the skies and began to circle the camp and surrounding area, looking for a hostile dragon rider.

"It was black with red markings, Your Grace. It was a big bigger than the brown beast." He indicated Glutton.

"It was a man for sure," Edmund replied. "But I didn't know him."

At the description Edmund gave, Elseyris felt a sinking feeling, like a stone dropped into water.

"I think I know who that is," she chipped in, tentatively, her expression anxious.

"I was there when your father died," Aegon told the young man. "He was a loyal man and a great warrior." Though none of his martial skills had availed him when wildfire and Mother's Tears combined to flash cook him in his armor. Such were the Warrior's jests. "You will camp and fly with us from now on, Edmund."

He turned to Elsey. "Yes," Aegon answered, his eyes growing somewhat cool. He had surmised an answer of his own. "What manner of man is Bertram Targaryen?"

"If he is attacking royal messengers sent to deliver news to me, it would seem he has already been bought," Aegon replied. "He will learn the error of his false loyalties in time."