The Madness of Monarchs (Prologue)
It was the heat of summer in King's Landing of Westeros. Banners flew proud in the wind, knights trained on the green grass outside the Red Keep, and an all-around good feeling was in the air. It was needed, to be sure, especially after the plague that had arrived just a year ago to conclude a long winter. It had claimed many lives, young and old, lords and commoners alike. But the highest profile death was the sweet Princess Naerys, wife to the young Prince Valerion. Heavy with child, she had been too.
It seemed that the last victim of this deadly pestilence was hanging on by a thread. King Aenar himself spent days locked inside his bedchambers, maesters surrounding him for hours at a time. His two queens, Rhaelle and Viserra, however, were playing their own game. You see, Aenar wasn't the brightest man, and hadn't really set up a power structure to follow once he passed. Sure, Viserra's eldest, Prince Aerion of Dragonstone, was the heir apparent. But Valerion was better loved, and Rhaelle's firstborn. This was to say nothing of his many bastards throughout the realm.
Inside the Red Keep, there was a door that was locked during the night. That was where Prince Valerion slept. Only one had a key besides himself. Not the maester, nor even his mother. Only his youngest sister, Shaera was allowed in.
The young princess hobbled into the room, climbing up onto the big bed that was arrayed at the edge of the room. Inside it was her sleeping brother, who was in the midst of a nightmare. Understanding, Shaera put her head in his chest and leaned into him. They were like that for hours, the just eight year old child comforting her brother of twenty and three.
When he finally awoke, he heard the sound of a cascade of giggles, Shaera grinning up at him. She was by far the most like him out of his remaining siblings. At that thought, a pang of hurt reverberated in his chest. Not a day went by when he didn't think of Naerys. She had been wild too, like Shaera, hardly able to be tamed by even the strongest scolding of their father or mother.
"Mom said that you have to go out to the training yard this morning," Shaera yawned, holding onto his left hand with both of hers, playing with his fingers, entranced by the callouses that marked them. "There's visitors."
"There's always visitors," Valerion mumbled under his breath as he finally dislodged himself from his sister, clambering to his feet. It had been a year since he'd lost Naerys, and Rhaelle had only allowed him a month to grieve before she began inviting ladies to the castle to entertain him or watch him. He'd sent them all away with little thought.
Shaera disappeared out the door, and he got into his training clothes. A simple pair of trousers, a loose undershirt, and his belt that would sheathe his sword. While by no means wanting a new partner, he wasn't afraid to show a bit of skin, the undershirt missing the top two buttons. His unruly white-blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, not having bothered to really deal with it that morning.
Valerion exited the room shortly, giving brisk nods to maids and butlers on his way outside. As he opened the door, he couldn't help but break into a bit of a smile. The sun was bright on his skin, and felt like a calming presence. However, the crowd gathered at the training grounds beckoned him forth. Going forward at a light jog, he could see there were more men and women there than most days. His mother certainly had been busy, he thought.
He recognized some of them, lower ranking ladies of houses like Frey, Rosby, and Fossoway, when he knew that his mother would settle for no less than a Paramount house. His answer to the greater crowds was answered soon.
Walking in from the other side was his half-brother, the Prince of Dragonstone, Prince Aerion. The two were polar opposites, much like their mothers. Where Aerion was broad and muscular, Valerion was sinewy and quick. Where Aerion was short-haired and obtained dark purple eyes, Valerion was long-haired and had lilac colored eyes. Where Aerion was quick to please a room, Valerion had little appetite for pleasantries. There were two things that stuck out to him, however. The first was that Aerion had his heart broken as well, in the form of two broken betrothals. One by a Lady Arryn, who had broken it because she was now the heir to the Eyrie, after her father had passed. The second by a Lady Manderly, who, in an effort to gain Northern backing, had broken the betrothal and married her liege lord instead. The second, which grated on him more, was that Aerion had tamed a dragon, while he had not.
Duskbringer, he had named it. It had been with him since the day of his birth, practically. Queen Viserra had seen to that. Because of his pride of his son, Aenar had named him Prince of Dragonstone. But, he had come to regret it as Aerion became more belligerent. King Aenar had even dismissed him from the small council for warmongering against the Dornish, who were finally settling down.
That was not the only Targaryen in attendance, either. Their father's bastard son Valarr Waters, who was a year older than even Aerion, stood aside by himself. He was an enigma to Valerion. Valarr was a ladies' man, that was for sure. He was built like Valerion, but could launch himself into a frenzied attack as well as Aerion. He had Targaryen hair, but his eyes were a bright blue, marking him a bastard of some Lysene pillow slave.
"Valerion!" Valarr cried in glee as he walked over to him. "It's great to see you again!" He clapped Valerion on the shoulder. "If it is under these circumstances."
Valerion was confused, watching him carefully. "What do you mean?"
"The Queen Rhaelle thought it would be best if we did a melee with the three of us, as it would bring more ladies to the yard," Valarr grinned at him brightly. "Which it has. I won't go too hard on you, old friend." With that, the bastard of Lys unhanded him and approached his squire to obtain his sword.
Valerion doubted this was his mother's work now. Sure, she might have him duel Matarys or Maekar, two of his younger brothers, but not his dangerous half-brother or his hedonistic bastard brother. His teeth grinded as Aerion shrugged off his shirt altogether, his sweaty chest gleaming in the morning sun. He was an arrogant prick, in Valerion's opinion.
With an unhappy tug, Valerion pulled his sword. He already knew the rules, no maiming, no injuring, and certainly no killing. The only time he'd ever hurt someone was by accident, his younger brother Daemon. The memory of him hurt, as he had fled King's Landing just four months before. Accusations that the young Targaryen had relationships with men rather than women had forced his mother's hand to try to get him under control, but he had simply left. Stories differed. Some say he went to Dorne to live as the Prince's consort, others say he went to the Citadel, to Winterfell, to Lannisport, or even the Free Cities, but none had any proof.
He shook off his memories with a roll of his shoulders, and squared up. The duel wouldn't last too long, but it was short and spirited. The pure strength of Prince Aerion was simply too much for either Prince Valerion or the nimble Valarr Waters. By the end, Valarr was nursing an aching wrist after Aerion had wrenched it out of his grasp, and Valerion had hit the ground hard on his back, the air leaving him. Aerion simply gave a smirk, plunged his sword into the sand, and walked off. A throng of girls chased after him, leaving the pavilion rather empty.
Valerion simply laid in the sand, sighing as he rubbed his temple. Soon, a figure blocked out the sun above him and held out a hand for him. He took it with a grunt, getting to his feet with the help of his sister Helaena. Just 15, she was supposed to be betrothed to their other brother, Maekar, but as they grew up, it was clear they didn't belong together. She was sweet and gentle, taking a look at Valerion's back just in case, while Maekar seemed destined for the Citadel.
As Helaena rubbed the sand out of his shirt, a castle page came running towards them, holding a scrawled message in his hand. Helaena's grip on his arm tightened as he came closer.
"Your Graces, you must come quick," The child said, his chest heaving as he took in big breaths. "It's the King!"
A/N: This is an SYOC. It is rated M, so just a warning there will be strong language, violence, and potentially sexual scenes. Anyway, there are many characters you can submit, from potential lovers of any of the Targaryens, to Targaryens, Blackfyres, or any of Lord Paramount houses, who will make a difference. Please fill out the entirety of the form. Also, please send me a PM before creating a character so I know that it is open for you to submit. Keep in mind I may have to reject some on the basis of balance, and allow you to change it slightly. I am looking forward to this story as I hope you all are as well! The time on this is nebulous, with Blackfyres and dragons, so it is somewhat AU, as I like to use original characters rather than ones from the canon. You are welcome to submit as many as you please.
FORM
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Prince Valerion (son of Rhaelle):
Crown Prince Aerion (son of Viserra):
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