King's Landing 105 AC.
Rhaenyra Targaryen.
Rhaenyra's laughter rang out as she flew Syrax around Vermithor. The Bronze Fury's head turned and followed her dragon as they did so. Syrax was smaller and more nimble than the much larger Vermithor which became something that Rhaenyra quickly took advantage of. Aemon may act like a mummer that pretended it bothered him not, but Rhaenyra knew it annoyed him. Which was the whole point of her little game.
It had felt like an age for Rhaenyra to be given the signal from her dragon that it was time to mount her. The days, weeks, and moons almost crawled by until that fateful day. Syrax's saddle had been made two moons earlier, and each day Rhaenyra went with Aemon to the Dragonpit to speak to Syrax. Rhaenyra thought it had been another day when she looked on disappointedly to see that her dragon remained saddleless. The day finally came which made both Syrax and Rhaenyra as excited as a cat with a mouse.
"Be careful Nyra, and allow Syrax to be your guide." Aemon had said almost superiorly.
"I know what I must do, Aems," she said, annoyed.
"I know you do, I worry is all," Aemon said.
It was as it always had been with Aemon whose concern for her filled Rhaenyra's heart a little and so Rhaenyra promised that she would do as Aemon suggested. Rhaenyra thinking back on that first flight had allowed Aemon and Vermithor to put some distance between them so she bid Syrax quicken her pace.
"Adere Syrax, ūndegon zirȳ." (Fast Syrax, catch them.) Rhaenyra said excitedly.
The yellow dragon needed no second command and soon increased her speed. In truth, Syrax was no match for the speed of the Bronze Fury, not yet at least. Vermithor had much larger wings and Aemon was a more accomplished rider than herself. Both of these would play their part too if this was an actual race. Rhaenyra's cousin would never fly too far from her side though, and even when she was a passenger on Caraxes, Aemon never let her out of his sight.
Rhaenyra saw Aemon's smile when she caught up with him, and when he looked her way, she stuck her tongue out at him. Syrax followed when Vermithor dropped low over the water which led Rhaenyra to curse her cousin when she felt the water hit her in the face. Soon enough Rhaenyra laughed loudly as Syrax repeated the trick on Aemon which left him just as wet as she had been. It did not take either of them long to dry with heat from the dragons and the wind in their faces.
Out of all the activities in her day riding on her dragon was her favourite, but that was not all that she did in the day. Rhaenyra would wake up in the morning to break her fast with her Mother, her cousin Aemon, and sometimes her Nuncle Daemon too. Rhaneyra's father, Viserys, would join them more often than not when Nuncle Daemon did not, and sometimes Aemon would eat alone with his father too. Then it would be time for Aemon's lessons while Rhaenyra spent time with Lady Alicent and other ladies of the court. Aemon probably spent most of his lessons sparring, but Aemon could be mysterious too in his daily adventures. A few times Rhaenyra had caught him in the library, or with the Grandmaester, much to her own chagrin.
After all of that, it was to the Dragonpit before flying into the skies above. Each day and every day nothing would get in the way of them flying with their dragons over King's Landing and the Blackwater. Once or twice they flew over the Kingswood forest and Aemon had even flown to Dragonstone alone with her Nuncle. Rhaenyra had not been allowed to fly that far as of yet. In the air everything down below seemed so pointless, and no matter how bad she may be feeling, Rhaenyra's smile would soon appear. Other than being with Aemon, this was the only thing guaranteed to bring a smile to her face. Reluctantly they landed, after climbing down on her own, Rhaenyra did as Aemon was doing and moved to thank her dragon for the flight.
"Kirimvose Syrax, kirimvose sīr olvie." (Thank you Syrax, thank you so much.) Rhaenyra said to a loud trill from her dragon. It was a trill that was matched by an even louder one from Vermithor.
As Rhaenyra moved to Aemon she allowed the Dragonkeepers to guide the two dragons to their pens. They would be fed once there and now was time to count the hours until the morrow came when they would fly together once more.
"See I told you that flying always improves your mood," Aemon said and Rhaenyra put her face in a little pout at his comment. She hated when he was right.
"Come Aems I'm hungry," she said, turning from him as she moved to Ser Criston who looked at them almost thankfully.
Aemon was the knight's page and he was to be his squire soon enough. It had not been something that Rhaenyra's cousin was happy about when her father announced it, but compared to his father, Aemon had taken it well. Rhaenyra did not understand what the issue was. True Ser Criston had beaten her Nuncle in the Tourney at Maidenpool, but for as good as her Nuncle was, he had been beaten in tourneys before. Her father had meant no slight with it either, as even to Rhaenyra's untrained eye Ser Criston was the most feared among the Kingsguard. Given her cousin's own interest in swordplay, Rhaenyra had felt that Aemon would have welcomed the chance to learn from such a man.
"I can learn from my father and practice with Ser Steffon. I like Ser Criston not." Aemon said.
In the end, Aemon accepted and was an ever-dutiful page. Yet at times Rhaenyra saw Aemon glare at the Stormlands knight. It was a far different look than Ser Criston received from most of the ladies in King's Landing and more than one had sought to give him their favour during a tourney. More often than not it was Rhaenyra's favour Ser Criston wore. Unless her Nuncle was taking part as then there was no one else that Rhaenyra would allow to wear her favour. A small concession to her cousin that Rhaenyra believed Aemon welcomed.
As they entered the courtyard Rhaenyra knew what had happened before even being informed. The mood in the Red Keep was solemn and dreadful. Rhaenyra had lost a brother or sister who had failed to be born and she felt sad for her parents. Little did Rhaenyra know that this wasn't exactly the truth of things as she steeled herself, and felt Aemon take her hand in his. Together they made their way to her mother's rooms and it was Aemon who noticed the looks she had been given. Rhaenyra felt Aemon grip her hand even more tightly as she turned to look at him and his worried expression concerned her greatly.
"Aems?" she asked.
Later she lay in her bed as her tears had not stopped falling, and she felt Aemon behind her. His arms tried to hold her but were unable to fully do so given how Rhaenyra was lying. There had been angered words, and when Aemon spoke he sounded far older than he truly was. Her servants, handmaidens, ladies in waiting, and even Lady Alicent had all been given short shrift by her cousin who demanded they let him stay with her in her room.
Had they not allowed him to do so, then she had no doubt that Aemon would have found another way inside. In the end, they had simply given in to her cousin's demands. Her mother was dead and Rhaenyra was downtrodden. Aemon's words that she joined his own "Muña" were less comforting than he meant them to be. It certainly did not comfort her as much as his presence beside her. Rhaenyra had a brother, one she had barely looked at, and whom her father had named Baelon after grandfather. All she could think about was that she hated the babe with all she was. Rhaenyra hated him because he took her mother from her.
Sleep eventually came to Rhaenyra, and she dreamed of her mother. She dreamed of playing with Aemon by her mother's feet, and of being chided by her mother when the two of them had been caught up in some mischief. The small smile on her mother's face would belie the angered words that she spoke when she chastised them both. At one point Rhaenyra reached out her hand and found nothing there. Only to then feel Aemon had grasped her own which allowed her to go back to her sleep and her dreams. Rhaenyra woke the next morning to find Aemon already awake and looking at her concernedly.
"Do you wish for your ladies?" Aemon asked and Rhaenyra shook her head "Some food?" and again she shook her head "You must eat, Nyra, a little, for me."
"If I must," she said softly.
It was after Rhaenyra had broken her fast that the news was shared with them. Baelon too had passed in the night, and the angered feelings she had towards her brother the night before now became more guilt-ridden. She wished her mind would not go to these places, as she told it not to, but it went to the seven hells anyway. Baelon would have been her father's heir, he would have been king, and so her Nuncle would not take the throne. Which meant Aemon would not take the throne and Rhaenyra did not know why that bothered her so much.
Nuncle Daemon had told her that she and Aemon would be wed one day. That one day they would sit on the Iron Throne as King and Queen. Rhaenyra had no wish to wear a crown, but she would not lie and say she did not enjoy the image of wearing one beside Aemon. Baelon would have changed all that, he took her mother away, and she was happy he was dead.
Wasn't she?
Should she be?
Did it make her bad to think so?
Aemon spent the day trying to make her feel better, but Rhaenyra found herself lost in those dark thoughts. Aemon attempted to make her laugh but those attempts fell flat. Later, Aemon suggested a dragon ride, and Rhaenyra finally felt some of the darkness start to clear away. She did not agree right away and an argument ensued but Aemon eventually won out. Before Rhaenyra knew it she was being dressed in the clothing she wore when flying upon Syrax's back, and the small kiss she gave Aemon on the cheek along with the smile she wore was all the reward her cousin sought.
"Thank you Aems." She said with a small blush.
"You never need to thank me, Nyra," Aemon said his blush was a much brighter red before she wrapped him in a tight hug. He was there for her like he had always been and she would be for him.
King's Landing 105 AC.
Ser Otto Hightower.
As the days had drawn closer to the birth Otto felt as nervous as the king. Otto may as well have been the expectant father with how eagerly he had looked forward to babe's arrival. Even having heard of the queen's passing had not stolen the joy Otto felt when the babe had been born a boy. Otto felt sad for the loss of the queen, true enough, but that sadness had been tempered by the knowledge that neither Daemon nor his get would now sit on the Iron Throne. Alas, the gods are cruel indeed and Otto's happiness was to be as short-lived as the new heir himself.
There was mourning all around, but Otto remained practical. The King was in no shape to concentrate on the realm, such was his grief. Otto once again had to step in and do so. Preparations were put in place for the funerals, ravens were sent out to update the realm on what had happened, and Otto called for his daughter to be brought to him. Alicent would be much needed in the days to come.
"I wish you to go to the king, Alicent. To help him in this most troubling of times." Otto ordered.
"Father?" Alicent inquired.
"His grace will seek comfort from whatever source he can garner it. Best it be from those closest to him." Otto said as Alicent looked at him confused.
"I understand this not, father. Would his grace not act much like you did when mother…."
"His grace cannot be allowed to fall in despair, Alicent." he interrupted, not willing to hear more about his own grief that he'd still not yet come to terms with "Go to him and be there for him. Offer his grace a shoulder to cry on if needed. The realm and your House require it of you."
As Otto thought back on it, he began to wonder if it was then that the idea began to form in his head. Had that been the moment or had it started long before then? Was it truly a concern for his king or the merest hint of an opportunity that he had not yet realised he had seen that had willed him to send Alicent to King Viserys? It was a question he had no wish to truly seek an answer to, and it had quickly become one he did not truly concentrate on either.
For what the gods had taken from Otto, in the form of a new heir to the Iron Throne, they gifted him with Daemon Targaryen too. Otto truly wanted to run to the king and tell Viserys what it was that Daemon had said. So much so that Otto never even questioned the validity of the source of the supposed words. Instead, all Otto did was sought out those who would corroborate it and then bided his time. The funeral was held and Otto had been relieved that it was Princess Rhaenyra on Syrax instead of Daemon or his son that had lit the pyre. Otto then waited just long enough so it would seem polite before he then informed the king about Daemon's words.
"I have some terrible news I must share with you, your grace. News I wish not to bring, but fear I must." Otto said in a sorrowful tone.
"What news could be more terrible than what I've known these past few days." the king replied uninterested.
"It is about your brother, my king, Prince Daemon, and some words he was heard to utter in a tavern. A toast that it shames me to have to repeat." Otto said doing everything he could to hide his glee and he succeeded.
"What care do I have for a toast that Daemon says?" the king said glaring at him "Very well, out with it then and begone for I wish to be left alone in my grief."
Never had Otto seen a man's countenance change so quickly or so truly. One moment the king was almost broken, while the next he was wrath itself. Somehow through sheer force of will, or maybe simply that the target of the king's anger was not present, Viserys managed to compose himself a little. Then Daemon had been sent for, and Otto had witnessed a sight that were he a different man, he would have spent too.
To see the Rogue Prince humbled, stripped of his claim, and to watch him as he was finally put in his place had been glorious. Otto had feared that Viserys would not have it in him to do so, but the king had more than proved he had the mettle when required. Daemon had been left shocked by just how fierce his brother's anger and rage had been, but they did not come to blows. Viserys had managed to inflict mayhap more pain and anguish on Daemon Targaryen than nought one other than the death of Lyanna Stark had been able to do up to that point.
King Viserys decided that both Prince Daemon and Prince Aemon were removed as the next in line to the Iron Throne. The betrothal between Prince Aemon and Princess Rhaenyra was not to be broken, but not if Otto had anything to do about it. Aemon was to be kept in King's Landing to finish up his education and his squirehood which included earning his spurs under the newest Kingsguard Ser Criston Cole. The king would not refuse Aemon leave to visit his father, but such visits were to be limited. Daemon on the other hand was not allowed to come to King's Landing to spend time with his son, no matter the reason for it.
"You would deny me time with my son," Daemon asked angrily, as he took a sudden step forward and brought the swords of the Kingsguard to bear to warn him from taking another. The fire in his eyes could not be understated.
"You revelled in the loss of my own son. Viserys said. "Let us see how you feel with the tables turned brother mine." With that Daemon left with a huff. his steps as fast as they were loud.
Princess Rhaenyra was to be named heir to the Iron Throne and word had been sent to the houses of the realm to come and swear fealty to her. As Otto readied for a Small Council meeting he pondered on the work he still had to do. Aemon as King's Consort still kept Daemon too close to the Iron Throne for Otto's liking. The relationship between Prince Aemon and Princess Rhaenyra was as true a threat to the realm as his father before him.
It was not yet time to press upon the king to break the betrothal between the children. To do so would be to lose the favour that Otto gained by bringing Daemon's words to the king and that Alicent was garnering. Soon enough he could plant the seeds both for breaking the betrothal and for the fact that the king was still a young man without a wife. If the gods were good and Alicent had worked her charms on this king as she was ordered. Then in time, Otto may be able to put even more obstacles in front of Daemon Targaryen and his wish to rule the realm. A wish that Otto knew would not have changed simply because it would no longer be him that sat on the throne.
Otto made his way to the Small Council chambers and took his seat once he reached them. Waiting for the king along with his fellow Masters. Lord Corlys gave him a small bow of his head and Otto wondered if the Sea Snake would prove a valuable ally in the years to come. The man had children and would no doubt seek to see them wed and wed well.
Could Otto use him to break the betrothal with the promise of one or two to his House instead?
Would Corlys accept Aemon for Laena and Princess Rhaenyra for Laenor, even if it meant that someone else sat on the Iron Throne?
Otto looked to Grandmaester Runciter and then to Lord Lyman Beesbury when they took their own seats. Neither man was a true ally of his. Lord Lyonel Strong could very well be and so he offered the man a bow of his head when the Master of Laws sat down on his chair. As he did to Ser Gaven Tarly. The Master of Whispers was a man he needed to garner favour with in the future, but being a fellow Reach man it should be easy enough. They all rose when the King, Ser Harrold Westerling, the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and to Otto's shock and surprise, Princess Rhaenyra all made their way to the large table.
"Since I'll be naming Rhaenyra my heir officially, on the morrow, I have appointed her to serve as my cupbearer," Viserys said, smiling at his daughter after he did so.
"A wise decision, your grace," he said, though Otto liked it not.
The King had not spoken to Otto regarding this or even brought it up at all. So Otto wondered why the king decided it. Just as much as he was beginning to wonder who had put the idea in the king's head in the first place.
Long after the meeting had finished, even during the feast that night, Otto contemplated whether the king had come up with this idea alone, or if there was someone other than himself whispering in the king's ear. At what point Otto felt the presence beside him, he knew not. Otto only knew that when he turned, Aemon Targaryen passed by his seat. Aemon It seemed had returned from somewhere Otto knew not and he was about to ignore him when the young boy stopped and addressed him.
"Lord Hand." Prince Aemon said contemptuously and Otto was taken aback. For just like his father before him, Aemon had left him in no doubt that he was not held in high regard.
"My cousin served well as his grace's cupbearer, Ser Otto?" Aemon asked.
"She did, my prince. A wise idea of his grace's to name her so." Otto said in a polite tone that was loud enough so that anyone could hear him.
"My Nuncle seemed most keen on the idea, Ser Otto, most keen," Aemon said. "I must admit though that were it not for my own time with the Grandmaester I may never have suggested it."
"You, it was you…who suggested it." Otto quickly stopped himself from letting his anger and annoyance go too far. Given the glare he got from those young dark grey eyes, it was not quick enough.
"I felt it was what the future queen needed, Ser Otto," Aemon said. "To learn at her father's side. Do you disagree?"
"I do not, my prince," Otto said. "The realm can only benefit from Princess Rhaenyra seeing how it's run."
"Indeed," Aemon said with a smirk.
Otto tried not to glare at the young lad as he walked away. Aemon's long dark brown hair was growing longer and worn in a similar style to his father's, if not for the slight curl to his hair he would be a dark spitting image. The young prince even walked as his father did, and when Otto saw Aemon take his seat beside Princess Rhaenyra, the images of the future played out in his head. They were not images he liked or cared for.
The next day, the great and the good came to pledge their fealty to the new heir to the Iron Throne. Otto spent most of the ceremony looking as closely as he could at the faces, and most importantly the eyes of those who did so. Some were truer in their support than others, but each of them swore their oaths. When Lord Rickon Stark knelt and swore his oath, Otto saw how his eyes sought out his kin only to come away disappointed when he found no sign of Prince Aemon. It made Otto's own eyes seek the young boy out and he too came away disappointed when there was no sight of Aemon anywhere.
Had he not been invited?
Snubbed the invite because of anger at the king?
Was he off flying on Vermithor's back as was his wont?
The thoughts flew through his head while Otto barely had a chance to even truly consider one of the others before the answer to each question was then answered.
"Prince Aemon Targaryen." the herald called out.
Every eye in the Throne Room turned to the dark-haired boy as he made his way to the front to take a knee. Aemon's clothing was dark as night black with the only red being the three-headed dragon on his chest. Even his shirt, it seemed, was dark black. He wore a belt around his waist from which a knife was attached, and his grey eyes looked to the king and princess and them alone.
"I swear my fealty to the heir of the Iron Throne. To Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, my oath is as steadfast as the Bronze Fury is formidable. You have my blade, my princess, and always my heart." Aemon said, he sounded regal in every word.
"I thank you, cousin. Rise and come stand at your rightful place by my side." Princess Rhaenyra said, and Otto found himself wondering how Daemon had managed to stage manage this little performance.
Around the Throne Room, there were smiles and some of those faces that had shown a little concern earlier, showed none now. In one fell swoop, it had been made clear they were not just getting a queen in Rhaenyra but a King Consort too. The King smiled his truest smile in weeks, and Lord Rickon Stark's eyes had finally found those of his kin as he looked on approvingly. Otto's thoughts soon turned from Aemon and Princess Rhaenyra before he then found the eyes of his daughter. There was more than enough time to ensure that this remained but a fleeting image of what could be.
"More than enough," Otto whispered to himself.
Dragonstone 105 AC.
Daemon Targaryen.
Daemon stood naked as he looked out at the rocks and the sea as it crashed against the stone over and over again. Mysaria laid in their bed after their coupling that had been frenetic, but it had not sated Daemon. Very little satisfied Daemon these days, even the sight of Caraxes as if flew towards the Dragonmont was not enough to lighten his dark mood. Daemon refused to look in the direction of King's Landing as he did so more than once while deep in his cups.
The simmering anger Daemon felt towards his brother had evolved and grown since he was exiled. At first, it hit Daemon as a slight against his honour that while it rarely showed, he did possess, and it had then become something far more visceral. Not only had Viserys sent him away for something he had no memory of doing, but Viserys took Aemon from him as well. Viserys denied Daemon his ability to watch Aemon as he grew into a man. Each morning Daemon woke up and knew it was yet another where his sparring partner would not be his son, and for that Daemon despised Viserys.
"I am your heir."
Those words could still be heard by Daemon as if he just spoke them aloud. As if they were carried by the wind that blew in through the open window and cooled Daemon's warm body, but not the fire that burned within him. As he closed his eyes, Daemon could see his son's tears as they fell down his cheeks, and Daemon's hand reached out to wipe them just as it had done on that day more than a moon ago.
"I will come with you Kepa. Vermithor will welcome seeing Silverwing again and Dragonstone will be my home too." Aemon said as if he had a say in this decision. His son was holding back his tears with everything he had.
"You cannot, son," Daemon said softly, as he saw Aemon stiffen. "I am exiled, Aemon. You are to stay here in the Red Keep."
"I do not care. I will go with you Kepa." Aemon said determinedly.
"And what of your cousin? Hmmm. What of Nyra?" Daemon asked, and he hated himself for doing so.
"I…" Aemon tried to speak.
"Your cousin will need you in the days to come, Tresy," he said, as he used Valyrian to cover up how difficult it was to say his son's name.
"So will you, Kepa. Who will you spar with if not me?" Aemon asked as his eyes started to tear up.
"No one," Daemon answered.
"KEPA!" Aemon yelled.
"Very Well, I will find some poor substitute so I can keep wielding Dark Sister in the manner she has become accustomed to," Daemon said with a sigh, as he caught Aemon relaxing his stance slightly.
"I do not want you to go," Aemon said sadly as he looked to the ground.
"Look at me, Tresy." Daemon moved his hand to his son's face and looked into his eyes. "No matter where I am, you are with me. I shall carry you here, as I do your Muña."
"I know," Aemon said.
The sound of Mysaria's footsteps came from behind Daemon. Almost at once, Daemon felt her hand move around his waist, down to his cock, which took Daemon out of his contemplation. Daemon felt the movement of her hand and within a moment he was fully erect. Daemon felt her soft kiss on his shoulder before he turned to face her. Mysaria's silver hair almost shone in the light of the rising sun. While her lilac eyes looked deep into his purple ones with a wicked smile on her face as she began to kiss down his body. Daemon welcomed the feel of her warm lips as they kissed his naked chest before she took his cock deep into her mouth.
Time lost all meaning when they coupled, and Mysaria always knew which points to press to find his release. The morning had come as Daemon's dark thoughts had faded somewhat by the time he spent inside her. As Daemon dressed, he saw Mysaria rub her hand over her slightly swollen belly. Daemon tried to think of the child they were to have together, and not the one he had left in the pit of snakes. Leaving the room and Mysaria behind, Daemon made his way to his solar. Though hungry and in the mood to properly pound the life out of something, it seemed some force sought to guide him toward the maester who hurried in bearing a raven's scroll with a dark look upon his face.
"From my brother?" Daemon asked.
"Indeed, my prince." the maester answered.
"Well give it here, and quit breathing your foul breath upon me," Daemon said.
Daemon ripped the scroll in half once he finished reading it. Daemon rose to his feet so suddenly that the maester almost fell over himself to get out of his way. Daemon stormed from the solar to make his way to the sparring yard. For the next hour or more Daemon basically pounded the guards to the ground only in an attempt to satiate the dragon within him. There was no finesse or skill in wielding his sword, and soon enough it was straw dummies Daemon was tearing apart rather than his guards.
Daemon would admit that taking the egg had been petulant, but it was the right of his child to have an egg of their own. True, Daemon had done it to anger Viserys as his brother had angered him with his actions. To be told to give it back, no, to be ordered to do so. That was not something that Daemon was willing to do. Nor was he in any mood to send the whore back to Lys as the message had ordered. As Daemon looked at the now destroyed dummy in front of him, his rage had barely begun to cool. Dameon needed to think more clearly than he was at present, which was a difficult thing to do given how the raven's message had made him feel. Daemon took a deep breath and closed his eyes and it was his son's face that he saw once he did so, his son's face, and the face of Aemon's mother.
"This is a pit of snakes, Aemon. You may not see it or understand it as I do, but I need you to be aware of it all the same." Daemon said.
"I am, Kepa," Aemon said.
"You are a smart boy, and certainly smarter than I was at your age, even as I am now." Daemon said and Aemon chuckled a little. "So I need you to do something you may not wish to do."
"Anything, Kepa," Aemon responded with fervour.
"Do not be who they think you are, Aemon." Daemon explained. "Do not show them your anger or how little you may think of them, only show them your smile and not your disgust. You must support your cousin with all you have, and let them be in no doubt that you stand with Nyra above all others."
"Kepa?" Aemon asked.
"I will not be King, but you will be Aemon," Daemon said. "One day you and Nyra will rule over all these snakes, and on that day the snakes that seek to feed upon dragons will find themselves to be the meal. Be ever watchful, ever alert, and trust only in those I leave with you. Can you do that for me, Aemon?"
"Yes, Kepa. You know I can." Aemon said.
"I do," Dameon said as he hugged his son and felt his smaller arms try to hold him even more tightly than Daemon was holding him.
Eyes opened, Daemon now knew what he had to do. Was Daemon alone in this then he could further refuse his brother's will. In time Viserys would send someone to Dragonstone to see it carried out and should he wish it, Daemon could end whoever was sent. Yet Dameon did not wish for open war between himself and his brother. There was no desire within Daemon to force Viserys from the Throne or to see his rule weakened any more than his brother's own temperament already saw to.
Still, it was not for those reasons that Daemon complied in the end. Nor then that he sent the raven to King's Landing telling Viserys that he intended to. Days later as Daemon watched Mysaria sail off to Lys, it was with thoughts not of the child she bore in her belly, but the one in King's Landing. Viserys may not use Aemon against Daemon, or so once he had believed, but his actions thus far had shown he was not averse to doing so. So Daemon complied to ensure he did not do so again, and as the ship finally sailed from view, his anger at Viserys only grew.
Two Moons Later.
Caraxes flew through the peaceful sky. To Daemon's right, he could catch a glimpse of the outline of the Red Keep and were it a clear day he could probably see it clear as the finest wine. On Daemon's left, he could barely make out Driftmark and High Tide. Denied leave to visit the one, Daemon almost decided to visit the other, before he resolved to just enjoy the flight for what it was. Daemon needed to clear his mind so he could remove the darkest of thoughts, and beating Dragonstone Guards to a pulp was not enough to satisfy his lust for rage.
Life on Dragonstone was routine at best, and dull as a training sword on the worst of days. Daemon hated little more in this world than sitting still as the realm moved on without him. I do not want to be a result of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me. He missed Mysaria, not in the way a man missed the woman he loved, but in the way that a lover missed a favourite bed companion. Since she left, Daemon had fucked every woman he could, and none could satiate his lust as Mysaria had managed to do. That Mysaria carried his babe in her belly made Daemon miss her even more. Just as he wished to listen to her whisper the most wicked of things while she offered up a welcome distraction from his new reality.
Other than flying atop Caraxes, it was only the letters from his son that would change Daemon's mood. Those letters were regular and never ceased and it almost brought a smile to Daemon's face as he bid Caraxes turn. Daemon would not dare enter Blackwater Bay as the Blood Wyrm wished. Aemon asked after him as much as he told him of his own days inside an increasingly hostile Red Keep. Each raven carried news that was fit for Viserys Ear, or anyone else's ear for that matter, while each letter certainly said more than meets the eye.
"You must be careful, Aemon. Speak no words against your uncle." Daemon warned.
"But he betrayed us, Kepa," Aemon said with fire in his words like a true dragon.
"Remain vengeful if you must, but only where no one can see your true feelings, Aemon," Daemon said as he touched his son's forehead.
"Yes, Kepa," Aemon said. "Even when I will write too?"
"Even when you write, Aemon," Daemon said before he continued. "When the contents of the letter are a lie start the letter with a consonant and when they are the Truth start the letter with a vowel," Daemon said as he knew it was a simple enough code for Aemon to follow and a very subtle one at that. "Use Valyrian as well but remember we are not the only ones who know our tongue, little dragon."
Viserys was a fool to kick Daemon to the side as all he now had for protection was a boy of eight name days sending coded letters to a father that had been exiled. Daemon feared not being there by Aemon's side to guide him into becoming a man, to help him navigate the troubled waters that court was sure to become. Daemon feared that his enemies would see his son as a target for all their treacherous ways, and while they would dare not lay a finger on him with Daemon present, they may feel brave enough to do so in his absence.
With the flight now ruined by his dark thoughts, Daemon bid Caraxes take them back to Dragonstone. The Blood Wyrm followed his commands far more quickly than Daemon wished, and so in less than an hour, he was landing close to the keep itself. No sooner had Daemon climbed down from his dragon's back that he caught sight of the maester and two of his guards. Daemon saw the letter held in that chained rat's hand and soon wore a half smile as he walked toward him. The idea of reading more of his son's words was one that Daemon welcomed.
"From my son?" Daemon asked as he received a shake from the maester's head.
"Not a raven, my prince, a letter. From Lys." The maester said.
Mysaria.
Daemon shed no tears. His anger refused to let him. Daemon wanted to, wished to, felt his babe deserved some tears at least and yet could not bring himself to cry.
Babes are lost all the time.
It could have happened had she remained here.
It is not his fault.
You can not blame him for this.
It was not easy to ignore the voices in Daemon's head, but somehow he did. The sadness Daemon felt was not for his own pain, because that would come later. It was for Mysaria that Daemon wished to absorb some of her grief. To lose a babe was a hard thing for a woman to get over as he saw more than once with his Goodsister. To do so alone far from whatever little comfort Daemon could bring her, would only make the loss even worse to bear.
Aemon would be devastated by the news, and the letters Aemon sent were proof enough of that. Daemon had wished to tell him in person, but in the end, he had the choice of doing so taken from him. Words whispered in court that Aemon overheard led to a question being asked in a letter. Daemon believed he answered it well enough, at least he hoped so. Aemon's words when they arrived in the next letter had proved so, or so at least Daemon believed.
A Hāedar, Kepa. Or a Valonqar. I'll be the best Rōva lēkia ever, I swear it. On the old gods and the new, I swear it.
There would be no sibling for his son, not now. Daemon wrote out the words before he called for the maester to make sure it was sent to the Red Keep right away. It was yet another thing that Daemon wished he could speak to his son about in person, and again something that he was denied. Watching as the raven took flight, Daemon cursed his brother for having the good fortune of being born first. Kings made the decision and everyone else was forced to deal with them, even when those kings were weak-minded fools.
"Damn you, brother," Daemon said. "Damn you to the fucking Seven Hells."
King's Landing 105 AC.
Corlys Velaryon.
With great change came great opportunities. They were words that Corlys had lived by and had seen him rise high indeed. Never had those words seemed more apt than in these fluid times. It was why Corlys retook a seat on the Small Council, even though the reasons he resigned never changed. Corlys never forgave the Old King for passing Rhaenys over, and for then passing over his son when Prince Baelon had died. So Corlys did not mourn the Old King when he had passed only a couple of years prior. Not that the rest of the realm or even his wife knew how little he cared for the Old King when finally breathed his last.
The main issue between Corlys Velaryon and Viserys Targaryen had been one that was not truly of the new king's making. Corlys may not have liked the man and thought him too weak to sit on the Iron Throne, but Corlys did not hate him. Not as Corlys had hated his luck-bitten father. So when the offer had been made, Corlys accepted it. Even if Corlys did so for his own selfish reasons as opposed to any great concern for the Realm. Fell winds blew in from the Stepstones, and it was better to take safe harbour from those winds with the Crown than to sail into them alone.
Corlys had sat and spoken up about the issues in the Stepstones for moons now. Though only words and little else was offered as any respite. Corlys sat, watched, waited and judged those around him with a keener eye than most. Lyman Beesbury was a weak-minded fool, who just happened to have a knack when it came to matters of coin. Runciter was no different than any other of the grey rats, and Ser Gaven Tarly was a far more informed man than Corlys had wagered he would be when he was appointed Master of Whisperers. Lyonel Strong was far too unyielding at times for Corlys' liking. Fucking upstart. As for the King, Viserys was as weak as Corlys had expected him to be, except of course when it came to his brother. None of these men was a match for Corlys in their will, neither mind nor body. Though that still left two who were.
Otto Hightower was a man as smart as he was grasping. A man who if he truly set his mind to only what was best for the realm would make a formidable Hand of the King. Yet Otto sought to rise as Prince Daemon had named him, a second son with nothing to inherit but what he suckled from the crown's teat. Daemon was Daemon as Rhaenys was often heard to say. Corlys' wife had taken the Rogue Prince's measure long before Corlys ever had, and she knew the truth of him better than most. It seemed though that she had to refresh her analyses of the Rogue Prince and his wayward ways of insolence.
"Daemon Targaryen cares only about Daemon Targaryen. The only thing you can trust him to do is to put himself and his own ambition above anyone else's. Once you know this, Daemon becomes a far easier man to plan against."
For most of Daemon's early years as a man, those words could not have been more true. Then the Rogue Prince met a She Wolf and brought a son into the world. Whether it was the presence of Aemon alone or the fact that the Good Queen had betrothed him to Princess Rhaenyra, a change had come over Daemon from that moment onward. It seemed to Corlys' eyes that there was at least one thing that Daemon Targaryen cared more for in this world than his ambitions and that was his son.
Aemon Targaryen created a whole other set of problems all on his own. As heir of the heir, it would be his arse that one day would be planted upon the Iron Throne. Aemon's betrothal to Princess Rhaenyra took two potential royal matches off the table and further added legitimacy to his claim. Corlys would be a liar if he said he did not think of what it would be like to have Laena and Laenor betrothed to one or the other, or even both. It was not to be and nothing that he or Otto, who had stupidly tried more than once, could say or do would make it so. So Corlys had believed.
"With great change there comes great opportunities," Corlys whispered to himself as he made his way to the Small Council Chambers, eager for one for the meeting to come.
Queen Aemma's death had been a tragedy, but Prince Baelon's was an opportunity hidden behind that tragedy. At first, the idea of Baelon surviving had been one that opened up a potential opportunity for Corlys; his death had opened up far more. Corlys took his seat as he listened to what was being said while they awaited the king's arrival, and little did he know just how many different opportunities were soon to be presented to him.
Corlys held his tongue as angered words were spoken, and his mind took note as plans formed or withered away. Perhaps that was why Corlys missed the beginning of the argument with Otto and the King, but it was only the beginning that he allowed himself to miss.
"The betrothal must be broken, your grace. Removing Prince Aemon from the line is not enough." Otto said, sounding a little desperate.
"It is more than enough." the king replied. "And not something I do lightly, Ser Otto."
"Yet the prince will still be King Consort and still wield undue influence, your grace," Otto argued.
Corlys listened, unsure if he heard it right. Daemon's actions needed to be answered for, exile and being removed from the succession was a proper amount of punishment for such an insolent act. Corlys expected Aemon to take his father's place in the line of succession and instead heard that, unlike his grandfather, Viserys was not passing over a daughter for a son.
"A Grand Council, your grace. There would be those who demanded such." Grandmaester Runciter began only for Viserys to stop him from continuing.
"Hence why I will not break the betrothal, Grandmaester," Viserys said. "Not only do I have no wish to go against my grandmother's decree. I understand all too well what some would seek." Viserys sneered, thinking of his brother no doubt. "They will not seek it if the match stands."
"And what of Prince Daemon or Prince Aemon himself, your grace," Otto said and Corlys almost rolled his eyes at the man's inability to know when he was beaten. Usually, Otto was more balanced and controlled than this. It seems Hightower's weakness is anything to do with the Prince of Flea Bottom.
"You think my brother or his son would try and usurp my daughter, Ser Otto?" Viserys asked rhetorically. "You think that and yet wish me to break the betrothal between the children which would only make it ever more likely that they may?" Viserys asked, raising his eyebrows that only made Otto look like a scolded child. "Am I to rely on such poor advice on all matters to do with my brother and nephew?"
The last bit was a direct dig and if Corlys was a different man would have allowed himself a laugh at Otto's expense. It ended the Hand's questioning and allowed an opening for him to speak.
"While I wished to speak of the growing tensions and rising demands for higher taxes in the Stepstones," Corlys said. "It seems events here have surpassed those there in importance. For now at least."
"You have some other words you'd like to say, Lord Corlys?" Viserys almost sounded eager for any voice other than Otto's to be the one he listened to at the moment.
"Prince Aemon, your grace." Corlys began and could see the slight twitch in the King's eye signalling Corlys to tread carefully. "He is almost of the age to be fostered and while I know his kin in the North would wish it to be there, I would like to offer Driftmark as an alternative. Rhaenys and the children would surely enjoy having him under our roof."
"An excellent offer, your grace." Otto jumped in and said far too quickly. Going to have to suckle a little harder for that milk upstart.
"My nephew is to remain in King's Landing, Lord Corlys," Viserys said respectfully and with no malice or anger in his words. "Though I am sure that Aemon and his father will be most thankful for your offer. However, not only is Aemon squired to Ser Criston, but I have my own reason I wish him close."
A hostage then? Interesting.
Corlys found himself respecting the king just a little as he'd not thought he had it in him. Perhaps he had more mettle than he'd given him credit for.
"Laena and Laenor will be disappointed as will my wife. Yet I respect your decision, your grace." Corlys said with a small bow of his head. "However there is but one other matter to discuss."
"There is?" Otto asked, confused.
"Indeed. While the matter of succession is for now decided, who knows what the future may bring?" Corlys began and saw how Viserys' expression changed. "You are still a young man, your grace. Perhaps some thought should be given to you taking another wife."
"His grace has only just buried Queen Aemma, Lord Corlys." Lyonel Strong said annoyed.
"I was not suggesting he do so right away, Lord Lyonel. Only that the matter should be taken under consideration." Corlys said in a polite tone. "Who knows, perhaps in time a son would be born and all matters discussed here today would be rendered moot."
Four moons later.
Corlys was sailing home to Driftmark, or at least that was to be his first port of call. The subtle attempts of Corlys in planting the possibility of a match between Laena and Viserys had not even been watered enough to sprout at this point. The mourning period was not yet over so for now Corlys let it lie. Soon enough it would be time for a more direct suggestion, but for now, Corlys had other fish to fry. In some ways, this was a bigger fish.
Three ships Corlys lost to so-called pirates, and more than a hundred men. It was only getting harder to sail the waters and continue with his trade. The Crown had no wish to deal with the pirates in the Stepstones, but it was time for Corlys to find a man who would light a fire upon their arses. Knowing the Rogue Prince how Corlys did, no doubt Daemon was like a shark on the hunt. All it needed from him was the right chum to attract this beast with and the right prey to sick him on. Corlys had the latter, and as he sailed back to his home he sought out the former.
The right chum came to Corlys when he reached Driftmark and saw High Tide far off in the distance. As Corlys rode to his keep he looked to the sky to find no sight of dragons, and he knew exactly what offer to attract Daemon with. It was not to be Daemon's own desire for glory and his ambition that would bring Daemon to his side. No. It would be the desire to carve out something for his son, not a crown for himself but for Aemon. If Corlys got his way then it would be a son of his and not Daemon's that sat on the Iron Throne.
King's Landing 105 AC.
Aemon Targaryen.
Aemon stared at his face in the looking glass as he readied himself for the day ahead, and locked the anger he felt deep in the box he kept it in. If it was not for Rhaenyra, then Aemon would have let that anger get the best of him by now. Each time Aemon was left with no choice but to be in his Uncle's presence, he wanted to shout at him for sending his father away. Then Aemon would look to his cousin and remember his father's words to fight down his inner rage. Aemon would hold it in, let it build within him, and either lose his frustrations while out on the sparring yard or let them wash away while atop Vermithor.
Aemon's father's exile had delayed his own grief at the loss of his aunt Aemma. Aemon worried for Rhaenyra because he knew how much the loss affected her, so he focused his attention on her. After the initial shock of his father's exile had worn away, Aemon finally had the chance to grieve Aunt Aemma. The loss was profound to Aemon as his aunt had always been there for him. Aemma, Rhaenyra, his father, and even his uncle were the constants in his young life, then in one fell swoop, three of those constants had been taken from him. Aunt Aemma passed in childbirth like his mother had which made Aemon grieve all the more. The other two were by his uncle's hand, and they made his uncle rise to the top of Aemon's shortlist.
As his father's exile had gone from days to weeks and even moons, others had found their way onto the list that Aemon made up in his mind. Aemon had disliked Ser Otto Hightower, even before his father's own warnings about the man. There was something about the man's eyes with how they looked at people that seemed off to Aemon. Then upon learning what his father thought of the Hand of the King, made Aemon grow even more wary and distrustful of Ser Otto. It was why Aemon took great pleasure in poking at him the night that Rhaenyra had first served as the king's cupbearer.
"My Nuncle seemed most keen on the idea, Ser Otto, most keen. I must admit, were it not for mine own time with the Grandmaester I may never have suggested it."
"You, it was you…who suggested it."
Aemon had seen the anger and annoyance in Ser Otto's eyes, along with how quickly he tried to cover it up. Seeing how people initially reacted to something had served Aemon well so far. His father had often told Aemon that even the practised liars in King's Landing, would show the truth of themselves, you just had to be ever watchful to see it. For even a little bit of truth shines a light on the dirtiest of rats.
At times when Rhaenyra and himself got into some mischief together, Aemon would look not to his cousin but to those around them. Quickly Aemon learned which ones had been truly amused by their actions, and which ones performed a mummery to let them think they were. Ser Steffon, his father's men, his uncle, and his father, none of them were ever able to hide their true feelings from them even when one of them was chiding them. Ser Otto, Ser Criston, and some others were practised mummers and it took a keen eye to notice. So a keen eye is what Aemon had sought to develop just like his father had told him.
"Another day." he sighed as he turned from the looking glass to leave his dark room.
His sigh grew ever louder when he saw that there was no guard at Rhaenyra's door. Once it had been every morning that he went to her room, or Rhaenyra his before they both would break their fasts with his uncle. Now it was only every other day that Rhaenyra would join Aemon. The days the Small Council met forced Rhaenyra to rise earlier than himself and on more than one of those days they did not see each other until midday at the earliest. Aemon quickened his steps to hurry towards the private dining room where the king insisted they break their fast, and was soon smiling when he saw he arrived before Rhaenyra left.
"I wish I got to sleep in," Rhaenyra said as she yawned before Aemon took his seat.
"Morning Nyra, Morning Nuncle," Aemon replied, allowing his happiness at seeing his cousin be what he greeted his Nuncle with.
"Morning nephew. It is good to see you this beautiful morning." the king said, with a fresh sausage added to his plate.
"You too, Nuncle." Aemon lied with a bright smile.
All too soon both Rhaenyra and the king finished their morning meal before they said their farewells. Aemon cursed himself for ever coming up with the idea of Rhaenyra serving as cupbearer to the King. Aemon's time with the Grandmaester along with an overheard conversation between cousin Rhaenys and the Sea Snake gave Aemon the idea. The thoughts of Ser Otto's annoyance, and that Aemon knew that it would actually serve Rhaenyra well when she became queen had been why he put it into practice.
"I don't want to be father's cupbearer. It's dull and boring and keeps me and Syrax apart." Rhaenyra said as she pouted.
"So it is just your dragon you are upset about being parted from," Aemon said as he pretended to be sad before Rhaenyra stuck her tongue out at him, behaving very unladylike.
"Of course it is, who else would I care about being parted from?" Rhaenyra asked in a sarcastic tone.
"Who else indeed?" Aemon asked still pretending to be upset exaggerating as he crossed his arms
"Very well, I disliked being parted from you as well," Rhaenyra said. "Happy now?"
"Blissfully so." he chuckled, which made her laugh more fully.
"It is dull and boring though." Rhaenyra sighed.
Aemon did his best to make it more of a game for his cousin. Aemon pointed out that it would serve her as well as any lesson she had with the Septa, her tutors, himself, or Syrax. Then Aemon told Rhaenyra that it would allow her to learn things that only those on the Small Council knew, and that was something that had at least intrigued Rhaenyra a little. That Rhaenyra shared almost all with Aemon had not been his intent, but he welcomed any information he could get, especially when his father's name was brought up.
"I dislike Ser Otto." Rhaenyra declared to Aemon as they waited for the dragons to be brought to them.
"Why?" Aemon asked as he wondered if Rhaenyra saw the rat as he and his father always had.
"I would rather not say," Rhaenyra said in a haughty tone.
"Nyra." Aemon chided.
"Very well, he speaks ill of Nuncle Daemon," Rhaenyra said.
Aemon moved from the table as his appetite left him because the memory of that conversation killed it, and of how not even being on Vermithor's back had calmed his anger that day. It took many hours in the sparring yard along with gods only knows how many straw dummies that Aemon crashed his wooden sword against. Feeling the need to break something now, Aemon left the room to make his way to the sparring yard where he hoped that Ser Criston was. Aemon was both happy and annoyed to see the knight go through his forms.
"Good morning, Prince Aemon." Ser Criston called out as Aemon walked towards him.
"Good morning, Ser Criston," Aemon said not letting his annoyance enter his tone.
"We have a busy day ahead of us, my prince. Best we get the fun part over with." Ser Criston said.
"Indeed, Ser," Aemon said.
Aemon did not like the Stormlands knight, but he could not disparage Ser Criston's skills as a warrior. With a sword in hand, Criston Cole was a match for almost any man, other than Aemon's father, but hand the knight his Morningstar and even a true match between the Rogue Prince and the Stormlander was one that could go either way. To learn under his tutelage would serve Aemon well, even if he disliked the man he was learning from.
What was it? Why Aemon felt that way was somewhat of a mystery to himself. At first, Aemon thought it had been because he beat his father in the tourney in Maidenpool, but then Aemon believed it was how the knight's expressions changed depending on whom he was around. Aemon though understood the ways of court, he knew that everyone was a mummer of sorts. To rise you need to ingratiate yourself and earn the favour of those higher than you. Aemon saw that in knights, lords, ladies, and even servants. So to see it in Ser Criston was no big surprise for the young prince.
"Concentrate, my prince." Ser Criston said and Aemon nodded.
The blow caught him anyway and it was a painful one. There was no quarter given in their spars or their training. Aemon had refused to allow there to be any weakness in himself. Pain is weakness leaving the body. A bruise here or there was no great burden to carry and if you wished to improve, which Aemon most certainly did, it was best you understood the blood, sweat, and tears that were needed in order to do so. Never show them any tears, Aemon. Those are for you alone. So after their very first training session, Aemon bid Ser Criston to not hold back and to the knight's credit, he never once did so since then.
"Good work, my prince. That's it back away, there is no shame in it." Ser Criston said cockily as he was bashing against Aemon's shield.
"I am not ashamed, I am seeking my chance," Aemon said his struggle could be heard in his words.
"Indeed. Let me know if you find one." Ser Criston slammed down again.
Ser Criston was a cocky and confident fighter, all men with skills usually were Aemon had found. His father certainly was a man full of himself, but Aemon noticed something else about men with skill. They at times left themselves open because they felt themselves to be in control. In a true fight, you were never in control, the savagery can overwhelm a man. Grandmaester Runciter had told him so in their own lessons, even though he meant it in regard to battle and it was a different meaning he wished Aemon to learn. Aemon felt it applied in a spar or a one-on-one fight just as much.
In the end, Ser Criston was proved right, and the opportunity that Aemon had waited on came and passed. The second blow Aemon took was slightly harder than the first one, but Aemon knew he almost had Ser Criston. Aemon had seen it but was just not quick enough, tall enough, or strong enough to take advantage of the small opening in Ser Criston's strong attack that he had used to defeat Aemon.
"One Day," Aemon said to a small chuckle from the man he was squired to.
"Mayhap, my prince." then as quickly as the smirk was on Ser Criston's face it was gone.
The rest of the morning was spent shadowing his knight. Though not yet truly a squire, Aemon had long past a page's duties. The advantages of being a prince of the blood were ones Aemon knew all too well and Aemon was not beyond using when he wished for something truly. Aemon wished to be a true squire and to earn his spurs as quickly as he could so he would not have to spend time with Ser Criston Cole that could be better spent elsewhere. That day was not this one, so Aemon did his duty and was happy enough when it came to an end. Happier still when he made his way to the Dragonpit and Vermithor was brought to him.
It took them only moments to guide Vermithor to Aemon after he bid them bring the Bronze Fury. Vermithor was eager to be in the sky once more where dragons belong. Aemon could see it in his mount's eyes as he looked into them, and when Aemon moved to place his hand on the beast's snout, the Bronze Fury trilled loudly both at his touch and his words.
"Kessa īlon sōvegon, tubī?" (Shall we fly) Aemon asked, receiving another loud trill, a few moments later they were leaving the Dragonpit far behind them.
Aemon rarely flew alone anymore, and later today Rhaenyra and himself would take to the skies together. For some reason though, Aemon wished to be alone with his dragon. The answer to why that was took some time for Aemon to realise, but when he eventually saw Silverwing as they flew out over the bay, Aemon chuckled to himself.
"Ao jeldan naejot sagon lēda zirȳla. Nyke'd emagon ivestragī ao nābēmagon, Vermithor." (You wished to be with her. I would have let you loose, Vermithor) Aemon said to a loud snort from his dragon. The sound was then drowned out by the call Silverwing roared out which was soon answered by Vermithor's own.
For the next hour, they flew almost side by side, and Aemon was lost in the peace that flying on his dragon always brought him. Perhaps feeling some of Vermithor's own joy over who their flying companion was. Vermithor and Syrax had gotten much closer during the flights they shared at their riders' behest, but Silverwing would forever be Vermithor's favourite flying companion.
"Ao should sōvegon mērī. Sepār ao se zirȳla." (You should fly alone. Just you and her.) Aemon said when he felt he was intruding and reluctantly Vermithor listened to him.
Together both dragons flew back to the Dragonpit, though only one landed. Silverwing did not like the place and much preferred to reside on Dragonstone. So after Aemon climbed down off Vermithor's back he waved the Dragonkeepers away, and Aemon thanked the Bronze Fury for the flight before he bid him enjoy the day.
"Se zaldrīzes, ñuha dārilaros?" (the dragon, my prince?) one of the Dragonkeepers asked after Vermithor had flown to rejoin Silverwing.
"Kessa sagon arlī skori ziry's arlī. Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, hae sȳrī ao gīmigon." (Will be back when he's back. A dragon is not a slave, as well you know.).
"Hae vestrā, ñuha dārilaros." (As you say, my prince) the Dragonkeeper said with a bow of his head.
With a nod to the man before Aemon ordered his guards to escort him back to the Red Keep. Once Aemon arrived back it was to his lessons, and when he was done with them, Aemon went looking for his cousin. It was not Rhaenyra that Aemon came across though, and he would be a liar if he said he liked the sight of whom he did. The king walked in the gardens together with Lady Alicent, and the two of them laughed at some jape or other. Something about it did not feel right to Aemon. So much so that even later, after Vermithor had returned when Rhaenyra and himself had taken their own flight together, Aemon could not rid himself of thoughts of the king and Lady Alicent.
Aemon just finished making mention of it in his letter to his father when one of his father's men bid entry to his room.
"From your father, my prince." Ser Daeron Waters said as he handed him the note.
"It only arrived?" Aemon asked though he knew that no man in his father's service would ever dare delay a letter from him to his son. Especially not a man who owed as much to his father as Ser Daeron did.
"Less than an hour ago, my prince." Ser Daeron said.
"I shall have my own to send a little later. The ship leaves when?" Aemon asked.
"On the morrow, my prince." Ser Daeron answered.
Aemon thanked the man before sending him away and then he opened the letter. The words were ones that Aemon did not know how to take, and the tears fell they caught the prince by surprise somewhat. It was not that he did not feel sadness over the loss, but because it had been long since he had truly shed any. Aemon welcomed the darkness of his room. He refused to let much light in since his father's exile; Aemon liked the darkness as it could hide his pain. Before anyone could be allowed to see him he quickly wiped his tears, storing them inside with the rest. They could only be released in the pitch black of the night when the mask was removed. Aemon did his best to return his mask but the pain was still present on his face even without the tears. Rhaenyra entered soon after and could clearly see the pain, but he would never let her see his tears. Never show them any tears, Aemon. Those are for you alone.
"Lady Mysaria lost the babe," Aemon said in little more than a whisper. The pain was still present in his voice but his eyes were dry. Internally though he wept like a newborn babe.
"I'm sorry Aems," Rhaenyra said as she hugged him. Her voice was soft and her presence was the only reason he continued to hold himself together.
The comfort of her arms as they held him was what he truly needed. Rhaenyra's whispered words were what got him through the rest of the night. Aemon did not touch his food, but Rhaenyra spoke softly to him and him alone. She was there for him as he was for her and Aemon could not imagine what he would do without her in these challenging days. Probably drowning within my own sorrow like Aunt Gael.
Yet it was not sadness that he felt mere days later. Aemon's anger once again raged as fiercely as a dragon's flames, and he saw it within his own eyes. On rare occasions when his father did not know he was there, he saw a similar look on his face when something enraged him. Aemon heard it in his tone when he vowed that one day he'd wipe the smirk from Ser Otto's face for daring to dance on the grave of Aemon's unborn brother and sister.
"I am a dragon like my father before me," Aemon said to himself. "One day you will choke on fire and blood along with all your allies."
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next: A new year brings great changes to the House of the Dragon. Changes which anger many and please some as the rift between Viserys, Daemon, and Aemon grows ever wider and Corlys presents the Rogue Prince with an offer he can't refuse.
For those following my other fics. The Dragonverse is up next.
Necros: Finally indeed.
Syrius: We hope to have a lot of characters that weren't given time on the show, shown here and hopefully done justice to.
Daryl Dixon: So glad you liked it.
Fireking: Aemon is seeing the life of Jon Snow, though he's unaware of what it is he's seeing or feeling. A friend of ours has a story that's a little similar over o and he uses Cannibal and so we went a different route, as well as Vermithor, which works better for a political message. Oh, Aemon will at some point go north and meet with Cregan. With Daemon, there is only so much chance a son will bring him, he wasn't really cut out for any role in the SC or even in KL, other than as LC of the City Watch, which he actually enjoyed.
Barly: Ghost is far more difficult here, but we'll see.
Davildante: Thanks for pointing that out, a small slip but a slip all the same.
Sozin's flame: So glad to hear that.
Murdough: Thanks so much and he will, but he'll remain based in KL as too many stories that follow a similar pattern have him fostered or given lands in the North, in truth it would never happen given just how few Targs there are in the south.
Keb: Thanks my friend, will fix that.
Isabelle: My co-writer has a specific plan in mind for Aemon's first trip North, so it won't be for a while yet, but we'll see. He will foster good relations with the Stark and well since he is one, that'll be easy enough to do.
Surplus hook: I hope you continue to enjoy it.
Xan Merrick: Thanks, my friend.
Tehstorm: We hope to make the changes make sense, Aemon has no knowledge or true knowledge of events and so he won't be omnipotent or able to change things simply because of knowing them, he will however change things simply by his presence, and then certain moves he'll make. So it'll be tiny little ripples at first, then bigger ones as we go further into the story.
Thirdcabinboy: So glad you liked it.
CEW: Yep, we're not doing huge jumps in time and more going to go with big events in time. So this chapter is 105, Aemma's death, the next is 106, Viserys Wedding, etc. It won't exactly be a chapter a year in the timeline as such, but we won't jump ten years into the future either. As for the rest of what you say, you're hitting the nail on the head a lot of times, I'll leave it at that for now.
Daooistdarknorth: We're aiming for fortnightly from here on in.
Dunk: So you can see some of that coming across here I hope. Basically, we're going to let events forge Aemon's character. So at the very start, you have this bright-eyed boy, then we get his father exiled which disillusions him somewhat and life at court, etc. But he'll have some of his father's best and worst qualities, yet be more rounded than Daemon too, we hope. Vermithor sends a big political message and given his size, there is that to take into account too, and far too often it can be Cannibal which is sort of becoming a trope now. As for Aemon/Otto, well you can see the dislike between the two already. Otto is sort of a less ruthless Tywin in a way and a less aware one. He genuinely thinks he's doing what's best for the realm yet is blinded by the fact he's trying to do what's best for him too. In terms of changes, we're aiming for gradual, logical, and small at first leading to larger ones later on. Aemon may well be Jon Snow reincarnated, but he doesn't have any memories of either that time or this, so he can't influence things with some sort of foreknowledge, but his presence alone influences things. So we'll see how that plays out. Certain things will be precluded from happening simply because he's there, others may not because of something he does and others will happen regardless, but we'll not be letting out which is which until we do.
This to the Multiversity will differ in two huge ways. One is the timing of Aemon's appearance there. Here he's there right from the start while in the Multiverse it'll be a bit like how he arrived in the Conquest nearer the beginning of events. And in the Multiverse, he knows certain things, and certain events and so has foreknowledge that is most useful, whereas here, he's just like any of them, living the life in front of him.
Yenerys: Thanks so much, really glad you liked it.
Vulcran: Do they even have collars?
Vega: Glad you're liking it so far. That's how I see Otto too, the line between best for the realm and best for Otto blurs itself in his head and he strays far too much to one side over the other. Yet at heart, he's not an evil man. Now on the flip side of that, he will to Aemon be considered one, so that's something to bear in mind. We're trying to show a childhood that starts off as sort of idyllic with Aemon/Rhaenyra, but then events change it drastically. I do think that Aemma would be a mother figure to him, especially considering that one day he and her daughter were to wed and they're all so very close at the start, which is in its own way a little tragic.
Aemon as you see will be raised at court. Too many stories send him north for my liking and it misses out on the fun you can have in the south politically. As for the Stepstones, we'll see. In some ways, Daemon may well consider things in the Stepstones somewhat differently, remember he's not wed to Rhea Royce here and there is also Aemon to consider, so you may see some of that here. As for Laena, well we have plans for her.
Spymaster: That funnily enough is one of the key things we considered. Now not saying that at times she and Aemon won't have dark thoughts, impulses, or even actions. But Daemon really did appeal to the worst of her and it actually harms her prospects in the end. Having the two raised together is a bit thing as it creates a partnership from very early on, in some ways, it's her and Aemon against the world which is an interesting dynamic all on its own.
As you see, Aemon thinks somewhat the same regarding a Knighthood.
Modir: Thanks so very much for saying so. We're aiming at fortnightly since there are the two of us working on it and most if not all of it is plotted out.
Poseidon: Thanks so much.
Theseumat: Really glad you liked it.
Orthankg: So happy you enjoyed it.
Celexys: In a way you don't or shouldn't need to know too much other than the characters and even not knowing them, it should, I hope, not be hard to follow. But should you have any questions, feel free to ask them and I'll help out all I can.
Rhatch: Thanks so much for saying so.
RedAlpha: Really happy you're liking this.
Irish Hermit: That's exactly what we tried to hint at. Alysanne was smart and she truly understood that the best thing to do was to tie Viserys and Daemon's line together, she wrote it off as her gut, but in truth, it was simply politics 101. You'd be right about Otto too, he is well aware of Viserys' movements.
Willgoodrich: We're aiming at fortnightly updates.
Knighthunteer: your command is my wish.
MalSer: So glad to hear that, hope you enjoy what's to come.
Dominika: Thanks so much, really hope you like the next chapter too.