I own Nothing.
293 AL
The boy was ten today, and for the first time in many years he felt the heavy weight of time. Maekar's grandson's great-grandson, born more than a century after me. Yet the boy was the only reason he had clung on for so long. I thought I did not care, after Maekar threw me into the dungeons, and Aegon freed me only to pack me off to the Wall. He had hoped to spend the rest of his days with the Children, and let the rain and sun bleach his bones, far north of Civilization, without a care about the world. I gave the realm all I could, and now my services are no longer required. Let the true-born Targaryens rot.
Yet he had discovered he still cared in the worst way possible. He had stopped focusing on the South for long, but he did check on Aemon from time to time. Daeron had loved that boy, and he was never half as rude as his father. It was his misfortune that he was in Aemon's mind when he received the letter from Lord Arryn in Kings Landing, a late missive informing the Watch about the change in regime. He still felt Aemon's legs give way as his own, and the long wail still rang in his mind. Aemon had tried to jump up, but time was a cruel mistress. He still remembered being trapped in the maester's mind, as he lay weeping on the floor, cursing all the prophecies of the world. He remembered trying to rise from his tree-chair as well, only to find that time had defeated him as much as it had defeated Aemon.
For the first time in decades he had looked south, desperate to find some trace of his family. The only one he found was Rhaella in Dragonstone, and his relief disappeared almost immediately on realizing what she intended to do. He tried to stop her. Live and fight for another day fool,he wanted to yell in her head. But she was more formidable than her granduncle, and pushed him out her mind before setting off the wildfire. He still remembered Viserys's frightened screams, as the last of hope for his family burned. Aemon had already prepared to leave for Driftmark by then, and he wondered what he hoped to achieve at this age. It had taken all his strength to dissuade him, desperate to not have his last family to die in a fruitless cause. Aemon had no hope of actually reaching Driftmark and his mother's family, and would have either died on the way or be beheaded for oath-breaking. Still, Aemon had only been appeased once he heard of Monterys Velaryons victory in sea, and since that day greedily devoured any information about the troubles of Robert Baratheon. He takes pleasure in the way his mother's family and his grandmother's people [1] are undoing the work by generations of our forefathers.
But that's what we have sunk to, two old men desperate for revenge in some way. Aemon could do very little, and even his power did not stretch that far down south. But he could hinder Robert Baratheon, make his life hard in little petty ways, and encourage men to rebel, a shadow of the power he had wielded as Aerys's[2] Hand.
Two brothers I hated to two I loved. Aerys and Baelor were more my of brothers than Bittersteel or that Blackfyre who thought himself to be a God for having the Dragonbane's blood. Maekar was never too fond of him though, jealous of the attention he had received from the boy's brothers and father. He was also at fault for never cultivating the relationship that much, underestimating the fourth son. Then he killed Baelor and the Spring Sickness came to take Baelor's sons and Daeron. Aerys never consummated his marriage to Aelinor, and Rhaegel was mad, leaving Maekar the crown.
I never thought I would feel anything for Maekar's line, except maybe for poor Aemon. Yet it is for the last of his descendants that I still live for. He had been shocked to sense a Targaryen in Greywater Watch, a year after the sack; as his mind drifted across the land, unsure of what to do. Howland Reed's mind was too risky to invade, but Ned Stark's wasn't, and he was aware of the fate of the Last King of Westros. Stark made a mistake leaving the boy in the Neck. Reed may never harm him, but he will always hold him accountable for the death of his lost love. They might protect him for Lyanna Stark, but they will despise him for the same.
Such is the fate of any born different than those around him, especially with the epithet 'bastard'. Daeron had been the only one to care for him at first, an albino bastard brother who their father hated. They called him Daeron the Good for a reason. Queen Naerys was surprisingly kind to her husband's bastard, and Daeron's Dornish wife had laughed at the way Westrosi treated their illegitimate children. They were my family, and yet I must live while they can rest. Such is the reward of a kinslayer.
Daemon Blackfyre had not even been the first. That honor had gone to Queen Naerys, who had nearly gone mad with the onset of the Blackfyre rebellion. The pious woman had lived most of her life scared of her brother-husband, and she was convinced that their early defeats were a message from the Seven, as punishment for her adultery. The Queen was convinced that the only way to save her son was to confess her sins, and had sought his help. She had only confirmed what he had suspected for a long time, Daeron was too good to be brother to any of the Great Bastards. Yet her plan of a public confession would have been disastrous, and no connection to the Dragonknight could have saved the bookish Daeron if he was found illegitimate. Therefore he did his duty and slipped nightshade into her drink. It was necessary, just as both King Jaehaerys and King Viserys had to save the realm from their disastrous predecessors [3]. Yet of all the deaths he had been responsible for, Naerys Targaryen was the one who haunted him the most. She was innocent, as innocent as the babes Lannister butchered and yet it could not be helped.
It was easy to get close to the boy, but harder to make him listen. Too much Daeron in him to do what needs to be done. He had spent nine years trying to gain the boy's trust, and trying to help him control his prodigious powers, far greater than mine in any case-must be the Stark blood mixing with the Targaryen. The Old King had been a formidable sorcerer too, an art he used to great effect against the Faith. Yet it was he, Jaehaerys I who had driven the art underground, as a part of the compromise with the Faith. Visenya Targaryen would have rolled in her grave. Five millennia of knowledge sacrificed to appease savages.
Yet there was still hope, for Rhaella Targaryen had succeeded where all before, right down to her grandfather, had failed. The upswelling from the cold current makes the seas around Dragonstone fertile fishing ground, something that finally came advantageous. It was difficult making it move, but the promise of more fertile feeding grounds did the job. Not for the last time, he hated himself for being too weak to lead the battle himself. It will have to be him, Jaehaerys Targaryen the Third. Hopefully this name-day gift will convince him to drop his books and harp. He still had his doubts, showing the bodies of his siblings had simply thrown the boy into depression instead of rage. And even discovering the chest with the letter, crown and sword-which finally confirmed the story for the boy-had not really led him to think of leading wars. Yet this will be a gift like none other, and will probably appeal to the intellectual side. Though some might argue the coin landed on the right side with this boy, he knew better. Such a soft heart could not survive the devastation of war, as well as the necessities of war. Aerys was like that too. Maekar wasn't, and that was something I respected about him.
Aemon did not know-it was simply too risky, and besides it was impossible to tell. I only hope we live to see our triumph.The boy was waking up now, and it was time to let him know that he was getting a gift. He briefly turned to the gift itself, and commanded it to move faster. Hopefully this will make him come to terms with the dragon within, and kill the boy to let the man be born.
It will take a Jaehaerys to rule, not a Jon.
[1] Aemon's grandmother was Myriah Martell of Dorne. I made his mother a Velaryon ,as thats what the Targs marry after they run out of sisters
[2] The Aerys mentioned here is Aerys I, not the Mad King. Daeron is Daeron II 'The Good'-Baelor, Aerys, Rhaegel , Maekar and Aelinor are his children.
[3] Jaehaerys I succeeded Maegor the Cruel who died under strange circumstances. Viserys II succeeded his nephew Baelor the Blessed, and is suspected to have poisoned him
Next on- we move to the time-period of the books. More action, and less talk. Less isolated soliloquies too.
