A/N: WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! Intense chapter! Ye be warned!
I'm weeeaaak~! I couldn't hold this back anymore! Early update it is, as promised~!
This may well be bumped up to M in the future.
Still here? Great! If this makes it to 300 by some miracle, I'll update it early again. It'll receive an update regardless of course; time and feedback tend to determine update speed for me these days; that, and my health.
Maybe a vacation is in order, perhaps it might even be time to reprioritize my life.
No idea when I'd even have time for one, but things need to change...
In other news...I've fallen behind. The upcoming chapters for Claws of a Lion and Demon of Ashford are FIGHTING me, to say nothing of Just a Shinobi. Don't get me started on my muse. It wants to update The Forgotten Son, but as you've no doubt seen, I'm also trying to update other categories this month.
I can't afford to go on an Elden Ring updating spree just yet either. The chapters need to be longer, they HAVE to be longer...
Feels like I'm running myself ragged these days at work. At least I get paid for my pain there. Not here.
I'm sorry, you didn't come here to listen to an old man's complaints. I'm just tired.
With my fifteen year anniversary on this site finally here, I find myself reflecting on the little things in life. What was once a lazy pastime meant for me and a few friends really grew and evolved over time. There are days when I look back on the last fifteen years here and I wonder if anyone will remember me; if I made an impact, despite never making a single cent on any of these stories. Some days were happier than others, and some stories I enjoyed writing WAY too much; to the point where I'd stay up all night working on them.
And of course, there are times when I look to the future and wonder what will become of things when I'm gone.
Of course, I try not to dwell on the latter overmuch; I'm still alive and still writing. In an ideal world, I'd like to keep doing so for as long as I can. But old age is catching up to me and these days, the world is filled with so much madness and death. Feels like everyone's lost their minds, the world over. Even before that, so many friends and fellow writers I once knew are gone, now. Will I still be here in twenty years? Ten? Five? Its a chilling thought. But for now, I'm still here, still writing.
Not Q&A for a bit, as someone complained. Ah, well.
Alight, I've kept you long enough. As ever, I own no quotes, references, quotes, themes or memes!
They're simply tributes to legends far greater than I; an old man who writes as a pastime.
Now, then...Shall we Begin?
"Are we to see the Dance of Dragons once again, then?"
"I certainly hope not! I'd prefer it Daenerys and I could get along."
"Did you think I meant...? No, no, no, dear nephew. I was talking about an entirely different kind of dance."
"Wait, if you didn't mean the Dance, then what the hell kind of dance did you mean...oh. Ohh. Ohhh. You're an awful bastard, uncle Oberyn."
"Nonsense! I'll have you know my mother was a perfectly lovely woman~!
~Banter.
To Court a Dragon
Nephew.
She had a nephew.
How in the seven hells did she have a nephew?!
Daenerys was still struggling to make sense of it all come next morning; she avoided her council and broke her fast alone in her chambers, the better to master her emotions in relative privacy. Needless to say, she failed spectacularly. Now her entire venture was in danger of doing just that, failing. It was unacceptable. Not having a nephew, his presence didn't bother her so much as the possibility of what said nephew might represent. His very existence threatened to undermine all that she'd fought so hard to achieve.
It all made a twisted sort of sense, really.
Dorne had been awfully determined to work with her, eager even on Lord Oberyn's part.
At the time she'd foolishly assumed their cause was vengeance against the Lannisters. Now she knew the truth.
She didn't know how her nephew had survived. She wasn't sure she wanted to. He was missing an eye and the scars on his head told a story all their own. There could be no denying his Targaryen blood, either. Ancalagon -gods what a name for such a terrifying beast- proved his claim more than any blood might.
Unfortunately, that left Daenerys at something of a crossroads.
She had come to Westeros with two goal in mind. Take the Iron throne. She would seize what was rightfully hers, destroy those who had senselessly slaughtered her family, then break the Wheel. Then she would rule and come what may. It all seemed so simple. In hindsight she should've known better. Nothing was simple in this world. If that wasn't difficult enough to wrap her head around, there was also the matter of the dragon. How anyone could command such a fearsome beast was beyond her.
Aegon was certainly bold enough, and also unafraid of her.
Attractive qualities in a potential partner-no! Bad brain! Not the time!
But her mind dwelt on it still. When was the last someone she'd received a hug like that?
No ulterior motives, no slavish devotion, no fear of what she might do if he upset her; just the simple joy of one relative meeting another. Simple and clean. It felt...nice. And yet if her nephew took it into his head to stake his claim over hers -most would say it was a better one- with a dragon that large, it would not end well...for her.
Could she sway him somehow? With what? She had nothing he wanted. Nothing he might want...but herself.
Wait. He valued family. Could she seduce not seduce him, then? Did she even want to? The thought roiled her stomach. She hadn't genuinely TRIED to love someone since...no, don't think about Drogo. It had been so long since the death of her Sun and Stars, yet she still felt his absence keenly. Her heart ached when she thought of him; there were times when she feared that wound may never heal.
But he would want her to live-to be happy. And the question remained. Could she woo this boy?
Her nephew had a terribly large dragon at his command and he clearly wasn't afraid to use it a she wished. She outnumbered him three to one in terms of armies and dragons. Her children might be able to best him in a pitched battle. But they might not. Ancalagon was a monster unlike anything she'd ever seen. He'd been hatched long before her children and it showed. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion meant everything to her. The very world. She did not wish to throw away their lives; certainly not in a battle they had no chance of winning.
Which brought Daenerys back to her initial question one last time. There could be no avoiding it.
She stood and considered herself in the mirror. Could she win him over somehow?
Again, did she want to?
Whatever his madness Aegon was no simpleton. He would not be led to bed like some lust-filled mutt. She knew that; had realized it from her first meeting. If she were to attempt such a feat they must be as equals and nothing less. He would not accept being subordinate to her...and frankly, she'd be disappointed if he did. Dragons were not slaves.
.
..
...well, she certainly wouldn't gain anything by hiding away like this.
Gathering up her wits, Daenerys drew herself up, smoothed down her gown, and took a deep breath to steel herself. From there it was a simple matter to ask Missandei to draw a bath. Her dear friend knew something was amiss, but she didn't ask, bless her. Instead she took her time, helping her scrub herself down. It had been a long voyage and she would need to look her best for this. Together they fixed her hair, then waited for it to dry in record time.
From there she chose her best outfit; the dark one with the silver dragonhead chain, the very same she'd wore when she first set foot upon Westeros just yesterday. She needed to -she must!- look every bit a queen when she broached this subject with him.
Missandei touched a hand to her arm, hummed once, and let her go. "Good luck, your grace."
On a whim, Daenerys drew her into a brisk hug. Luck, she said.
Gods be good, but she was going to need it.
(.0.0.0.)
The young dragon corned him by the cliffs.
Tyrion had been expecting such an encounter of course; even then he wasn't quite prepared for the intensity in the young man's gaze. The bad blood between their families ran deep. He wouldn't be surprised if Aegon tried to throw him into the sea here and now. Or perhaps he'd feed him to his dragon?
.
..
...in all honesty, he'd much rather take the sea.
Which was why it came as something of a shock when Rhaegar Targaryen's last living son planted a hand on his shoulder and smiled.
"I wanted to thank you, Tyrion."
Oh, dear This boded poorly.
"Whatever for?"
Aegon hummed happily. "For not killing your sister...or your father."
...I beg your pardon?" Tyrion's very soul stilled. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I put two crossbow bolts in him. I assure you," he swallowed once to master the utter surge of dread," He's quite dead."
"No," Aegon shook his head. "He lived. So you have my thanks. Now I can put both their heads on a spike~!"
He lived?!
Of course he did.
Father was just the sort to survive out of spite. "How certain of this are you?"
"Quite certain." Aegon's smile was telling. "He's busy dealing with fallout your idiot sister caused. A destroyed sept, Faith Militant, a dead queen, and a king throwing himself from his balcony." he clicked his tongue. "Nasty bit of business, that. Why, your dear family might tear itself apart before we even reach the capital. I hope they don't." the wind picked up as the faintest note of excitement threaded its way through his voice. "That would ruin the fun."
Tyrion followed his gaze. He could see the dragons wheeling in the sky, and beyond them, dark stormclouds on the horizon.
If it was an omen, it was a poor one for the Lannisters.
This boded poorly. Daenerys he could counsel restraint towards on a good day, but this young man loathed all Lannisters, and he wouldn't be happy until well...heads, spikes, walls and all that. Tyrion wasn't nearly so cavalier. He didn't want to see his family destroyed, any more than they already were. But what choice did he have? "I can't help but notice you failed to mention Jamie...
"Why should I?" Aegon's good eye squinted his way. "He killed Dany's father, not mine. Aerys was mad. Your kingslayer brother hasn't done anything to me...yet.
Tyrion prayed Jamie wouldn't. "Is there anything else?"
"Actually, there is." he withdrew a heavy scroll from his belt. "Your niece wrote to you from Dorne.
Myrcella! He hadn't heard hide nor hair of her. At least she was safe from all this madness. No one would trouble her in the south.
"I...thank you."
"You're welcome. And one last thing." Aegon granted him a thin smile. This one did not reach his eye. "Tell Varys not to do anything stupid. I'd hate to burn him alive."
Someone coughed behind them.
"Am I interrupting?"
(.0.0.0.)
Finding her nephew proved a smidgen more difficult than Daenerys expected...
.
..
...if only because she didn't bloody know where he'd wandered off to!
Mercifully, she encountered neither Varys nor Tyrion during her search. Perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps they had gone out of their way to avoid her. Also for the best. The Red Woman from last night was nowhere to be seen as well. She must've departed to parts unknown. Daenerys couldn't blame her. She'd delivered her message, asked- begged, really- her to summon Jon Snow, and moved on.
She confessed a certain curiosity toward this "King in the North" and had sent a raven. But it -and he!- wouldn't arrive for some time.
For now there were more pressing matters to which she must attend.
Eventually she found Aegon on the cliffs with Tyrion. They were talking; or rather, Aegon was the one doing the talking, and Tyrion seemed terrified of him.
...why did that reassure her so? Because it meant they weren't plotting against her?
Was she truly that petty? The thought shamed her dearly.
She coughed into a fist. "Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all!" Tyrion seized upon her intrusion like a drowning man would driftwood, desperate to escape. He waddled her way quickly, pausing just long enough to whisper her way. "Careful." he warned her. "He's in a rather bloodthirsty mood...
She offered him a genial smile. "Dragons often are."
Tyrion heaved a sigh. "Your grace, please."
"What did you discuss?"
Her Hand grimaced and clasped both hands behind his back. "I wished to sound him out on the matter of our invasion."
"Our, is it?" She bridled a little that that. "I still disagree with your plan."
"My queen, there will be bloodshed no matter what we do. My hope is that we can at least limit it. If we encircle the capital with our armies, we can-
Aegon scoffed where he stood, not looking at either of them. "Sure. Might as well take Casterly Rock for all the good that will do you."
Tyrion's lips formed a thin line. The Young Dragon made an annoyed noise but said nothing more.
Daenerys waved a hand. "...you may go."
Tyrion bowed curtly. "Please consider what I said, your grace. You yourself you do not wish to be queen of the ashes."
His words were genuine. For now. She'd be watching him.
She looked to Aegon.
Her nephew stood with his back to her, not looking her way. Instead he chose to watch her dragons circle high in the skies above the bay. Ancalagon had actually deigned to join them this time; together the four of them seemed to be conducting some sort of bizarre aerial dance; swooping and diving, wheeling through cloud banks only to reemerge perilously close to one another.
The sight made Dany's heart clench. She could imagine them spewing flame, Ancalagon crushing them within his claws.
...no. That at least, she had to avoid at all cost. Her children must live.
She couldn't bear to lose a single one of them.
Which meant she had to think. She had to think fast to make this work, or risk losing all she'd achieved. Her children, her friends, her armies, perhaps even her life if she did something spectacularly stupid. Not that she would, of course. She wasn't mad. She couldn't afford to make mistakes. Not here. Not with him.
...you can come closer, if you like." Aegon rumbled a low laugh, airy and free of all cares. "I'm not going to bite."
'He's older than me,' she realized, scrutinizing him. 'He was born before I was, by at least a year.'
Yet he looked so small now. Tired. Downright exhausted, even.
A thought occurred to her. She had gone through hell to reach Westeros, there could be no denying that; but Aegon looked to have suffered trials of his own, far earlier than she. They'd marked him, marred him in ways she couldn't quite comprehend. He could've been so much worse. Yet here was, talking pleasantly with her..
She didn't want to use him. He might well be the only kin she had left in this rotten world. And yet she couldn't afford to leave him alone, either.
To do so would be folly. Her enemies -and maybe even her advisors- would use her against him.
Daenerys sighed. "...what do you want, exactly?"
The man who may-or-may-not be her nephew granted her a small, sad smile as he watched the dragons dance in the sky. "Is a family so much to ask? Both of us should be dead, yet here we are, alive. Against all odds. If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is." he turned to face her at the last. "There must be a reason we met here."
...it was a tempting prospect. Having another dragonrider would only strengthen her cause...
Her brow furrowed. She had to ask. "And you don't want the Throne?"
He scoffed aloud. "Stupid iron chair, so that's a no."
She nearly laughed aloud. "Why?"
Aegon shook his head.
"I'm mad." he spread his arms as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You don't want a lunatic on the throne. Not alone at any rate. Look what happened to your father. He didn't have anyone to keep him in check and he went absolutely insane. No wonder the entire realm turned against him. I'd prefer to avoid that fate. I'd make a damn good enforcer, but a King...?"
His words quickened her pulse. Was he suggesting...?
"You're good with your words." he shrugged one shoulder. "Good at winning people to your side. Your allies love you. Most folks fear me."
Yes, she could see it now. What was the euphemism Ser Barristan used? The velvet glove and the iron fist? She could be the carrot, and Aegon the stick. It was a dynamic that had served rulers well in the past, just as the first Aegon, their forefather, had used. Mercy and gifts aplenty were granted unto those who knelt, while their enemies were utterly destroyed. The same approach might well work to their advantage...
Destiny knocked. Daenerys answered. "Then you wouldn't object to marrying me?"
There. She'd said it. Bind her claim to his, and him to her.
Aegon blinked. He blinked hard. "...pardon?"
This was it. All or nothing, then.
She stepped to him.
"We are Targaryens." her fingers threaded through his, palm pressed against palm. "The last of our line. We could tear one another apart, here and now, but who would that serve?"
"Our enemies." he answered before she could. My, but his hands were warm. "Still, this is kinda sudden, ya know? I'm flattered, but I'll need to sleep on it." Even so, he didn't let go of her hands. If anything they held tight and she found herself squeezing them in return. "For what its worth, I don't want to fight you, either. I never did, not after-
His face lit up suddenly.
"I almost forgot!" his grin was so pure, so guileless that she froze for a second. "Got a gift for ya; there's something I wanna show you. Follow me!"
Still grinning, Aegon took her by the hand -bold boy!- and tugged her back toward the castle. Despite his haste her nephew didn't walk in front of or behind her, but beside her. As an equal might. Daenerys found herself appreciating the difference. It seemed a small thing to fuss about, but it did much to endear him to her regardless.
Oh, dear.
This was going to be trouble, wasn't it?
She'd meant theirs to be a purely political alliance. But perhaps...
"C'mon!" he lengthened his stride, forcing her to match him or be left behind. "Almost there, now!"
Her brow furrowed. "Where are you taking me?"
...like I said, there's something I want to show you~!"
Down he led her, into the very bowels of the castle.
By the time he realized where Aegon was taking here, they'd already reached the dungeons.
Set near the caves of Dragonstone itself, she couldn't help but wonder at their purpose. This space was massive. Why put cells here in the first place? Almost any dragon could fit in such a space, perhaps even Ancalagon himself. Had the dragonlords of old burned their enemies here?
"Here." Aegon fished a ring of keys fro his belt, slotted one into the lock, and opened a door. "My gift to you."
A dim torch burned within, illuminating a large slab of stone. He led her inside.
And she saw the thing strapped to the slab.
"Kill...me...
The wheezing entity within could barely be called human anymore. He was missing both legs, an arm, and an eye besides, his boy littered with festering wounds. He was massive, tall and well-muscled if not necessarily strong these days. Her heart did a painful flip in her chest. Was this who she thought it was...?"
Aegon let go of her hand and stepped aside. "May I present, Ser Gregor Clegane. Tywin Lannister's mad mountain...or what's left of him."
The Mountain was a mess, but he still lived. His good eye flicked their way, pink and bloodshot. "No more...please...
Her throat closed.
"This is the man who dashed my skull in, killed my sister, and my mother." Aegon continued apace, speaking over his pleas. "He wrapped our bodies in a red cloak and threw them down before Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister. The Usurper laughed at us and had us thrown in a midden. I had to crawl my way out."
He pressed something into her palms.
Daenerys looked down and found herself holding a wicked knife.
She looked up at him. "Why haven't you killed this beast?"
"Because death is a mercy he doesn't deserve.
She looked away.
"Think of this as an early wedding gift, from me to you." Aegon's lips brushed the outer lobe of her ear. "Do what must be done. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy." a red haze fell over her vision as she gazed upon the foul thing sprawled before them and thought of the dark deeds he'd done. "Remember, he gave our family none. And what do we give our enemies...
...Fire and Blood." she whispred.
Aegon's grin was borderline euphoric. He clapped his hands. "That's my auntie~!"
The Mountain whined and wheezed for an end to his torment. "Please..."
Daenerys took a deep breath...then she gripped the knife in hand.
Three quick steps carried her forward. A trembling arm rose. Gregor tried to say something, to beg for mercy he didn't deserve. Daenerys showed him none. She stabbed down into his stomach. Then his groin. What passed for his chest, now. She stabbed down again, delighting in the whimper that followed. Not deep thrusts by any means, not enough to kill him outright, but to make him bleed. This man...no, this monster, deserved no less.
Blood spattered her face. Another stab.
Screams filled the cell.
A fine gift indeed.
A/N: Amazing what characters can do when they're not held back by the show's bad writing, eh?
Aaaaaand here we go!
Naruto's broken alright, but he realizes he's broken.
You don't want a madman on the throne; and he knows he's become that.
As ever, the Embers rule remains. If people don't like this story? If they don't enjoy it? Well...I'll not continue it. That's no joke, folks. I'm so busy these days with two jobs; basically, I don't have time off. Not anymore. My free time is limited and as such, I can't afford to focus on something folks don't like. Reviews keep me writing in these times, and keep the daily updates flowing. Silence...silence only hurts. I hate having to beg for feedback, but without it...well, it feels like I'm not making an impact.
Hell, it might even be ending soon. That depends on you, the reader.
By all means, speak up! Make yourselves heard!
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly?
And enjoy the Previews!
They're mostly the same.
As ever:
SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!
PLOT DETAILS AHOY!
YE BE WARNED!
Read at your own risk!
As ever, these are from the far flung future...or are they~?!
(Previews!) AKA Season Seven...
Jon winced. "You're insane, aren't you?"
"I am." Aegon-Naruto!-granted him a small a little. "But I'm sane enough to admit it."
"That doesn't make any sense.
"Trying having your skull smashed in as a babe, dying, and coming back. See if things make sense then."
"I have!"
"Someone smashed in your skull as a baby?"
No...but I suffered something similar not long ago."
...you're telling the truth, aren't you?"
"We can hold them off-
The world shattered with a roar.
Two black dragons swooped low behind a horde of screaming Dothraki.
Jamie had an instant to feel confusion. Two black dragons? Why were there two?
They were being ridden, each of them. For a moment, he could've sworn he heard a word shouted on the wind.
"Dracarys!"
The world erupted into fire. Men died in droves.
A shadow fell over them.
Seven hells.
Not hells. Bronn muttered. Hell. There's a special place for a beast like that and it ain't wth any of the bloody seven.
A man dropped from the beast's back. There was something about him; something different. Something worse. If Daenerys was the mother of dragons then this was the father of death and despair. And yet he looked just like Rhaegar, sans the eyepatch. And in a moment he knew. The forgotten son.
"Hello, Kingslayer." A hand clasped his shoulder.
I wish you good fortune in the war to come. You'll need it.
You want a wight, send a dragon over the bloody wall and grab one. None of this stupid horse piss.
Someone knocked on the door.
It was her.
R&R~!