When The Dragonwolf Danced

by Alperez16

A collaborative effort between myself and my good friend, SPh0015. Jon Snow is born much earlier to a different prince of House Targaryen. Raised as Daemon Targaryen's son and betrothed to his cousin, Rhaenyra. How does his presence affect the Dance of Dragons and will he ever make sense of the dreams that hint at who he truly is?

5. The Green Tourney

King's Landing 111 AC.

Viserys Targaryen.

Preparations for the tourney were in full swing and Viserys toured the grounds giving them his final seal of approval. It had been some time since they'd held a true tourney, though there had been many which were much smaller in scope. This one, however, needed to be as large and expansive as they could manage it. For it not only celebrated his fifth year of being wed, but Viserys was using it to honor his children by Alicent too.

Two fine sons and a daughter his wife had gifted him, his legacy all but confirmed now and while it should fill him with joy, and did, the births had caused issue too. Not least between his firstborn daughter, his nephew, his wife, and his Goodfather. That his now former Hand couldn't stop his whining or his insinuations that a daughter as heir was far less acceptable than a son was, hadn't helped much either. Nor had his taking of Otto's pin and the subsequent unenforced exile of him from King's Landing.

Viserys hoped and prayed this tourney would at least fix attention on it and allow for peace to reign. Walking with Ser Harrold Westerling as his guard, he began to feel the pain in his legs and knew it was time to return to the Red Keep. As he turned, the sound of the Lord Commander's coughing forced Viserys to then worry more about the aged knight than over his own concerns. Even going so far as to slap the knight's armored back more than once to help stop the coughing fit and then sending a guard to fetch some water for the still-ailing Kingsguard.

"Forgive me, your grace." Ser Harrold said after he'd taken some water and his coughing had stopped.

"There's naught to forgive, Ser Harrold. We all have days such as this." Viserys said, rubbing his leg and seeing the knight look embarrassed and somewhat shamed. "Now come, we shall make our way back to the Red Keep and take things easy for the rest of the day. It'll do both of us the world of good." he laughed, gaining a smile from the knight in return.

The carriage took them back most quickly and Viserys looked forward to sitting in a seat with his feet resting on another. He intended to go straight to his chambers, only for the sound of Rhaenyra's laughter to change his direction and destination. Soon enough he found his daughter in the sparring yard and for once it was not her cousin that had brought about the smile on her face. Instead, that honor had fallen to Ser Harwin Strong, Lyonel's son.

"Father." Rhaenyra greeted him warmly upon seeing him.

"Your grace." Ser Harwin bowed.

"Daughter," he said as he kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and looked around for Aemon, finding no sight of him anywhere.

Though he tried to do it subtly, Viserys could see how Ser Harwin looked at his daughter and how Rhaenyra almost preened under the attention. More and more of those who visited court had remarked upon just how beautiful a woman Rhaenyra was growing into and on this occasion, almost for the first time, Viserys actually began to see it. Up until now, he'd simply thought of her as his daughter, his little girl. With Helaena's birth, he now had another and so mayhap that was why he was now finally seeing what others did when they looked at Rhaenyra.

"Your cousin is elsewhere?" he asked, as Rhaenyra pointed to where the jousting was being practiced.

It surprised him that Rhaenyra wasn't there cheering Aemon on, and he began to wonder if mayhap some of Ser Harwin's affections were being returned. Yet no sooner did the thought enter his head than he heard a worried cry from his daughter and both he and Ser Harwin were left alone as Rhaenyra raced off to some commotion in the distance.

"Rhaenyra…" He called out and with his eyes bid the knight to follow after his daughter. Ser Harwin then did as he wished him to and quickly chased after her.

Viserys hurried too, or as much as he could with his legs paining him. Eventually arriving at a large crowd that had gathered around his fallen nephew. Aemon lay on the ground and was clearly winded. While Rhaenyra had pushed past everyone and was holding her cousin's hand as she looked at him worriedly.

"I told you all it's nothing," Aemon growled annoyed.

"And you're a Maester now too, are you Aemon?" Rhaenyra chided.

"I fell from a bloody horse, Nyra." Aemon retorted. "It's not the first or last time it'll happen to me."

"Thank the Seven you weren't on your dragon then." his daughter said to some chuckles as the Grand Maester finally arrived.

"My prince," Runciter said worriedly as he knelt down beside Aemon.

Though he was the king, Viserys stood there as if he was just another member of the watching crowd as Grand Maester Runciter examined Aemon for further injury. Other than Rhaenyra who still held Aemon's hand and looked on with concern, it was Runciter himself who seemed most perturbed to find Aemon hurt. Though thankfully after a quick examination, it turned out that Aemon was right in his own assessment of his injuries.

'His pride and nothing else has been damaged, thanks be to the gods'

His nephew could do with losing a bit of his confidence and swagger Viserys believed. Despite his age, Aemon was almost unmatched in the yard, and only Ser Criston could truly put him in his place now. Those of the same age or even slightly older than Aemon had no chance and so Viserys had expected it would be the melee that Aemon would choose to compete in.

Looking at how Aemon and Rhaenyra looked at each other. Or how despite his daughter's annoyance with her cousin, a whispered word in her ear brought a true smile to Rhaenyra's face. Viserys should have known it would always be the joust. Just as he now knew who would wear his daughter's favor and it made him dismiss his earlier thoughts about Ser Harwin. Which was something he was most pleased about as he had been considering naming the knight as Rhaenyra's sworn sword after the tourney was over.

"Your grace," Aemon said stiffly when he saw him standing there. His nephew obviously embarrassed that the king had been a party to his fall and the ensuing drama surrounding it.

"I am pleased to see you well, nephew," he said to a nod of Aemon's head.

"Only my pride was hurt, your grace. Luckily I can live with such an injury." Aemon japed to some laughs.

"See that is the only injury you receive, nephew. My daughter would be even more wroth with you were it not."

"We can't have that, your grace. I could not live with my betrothed being wroth with me." Aemon said looking to Rhaenyra who blushed before scowling at him in return for his words.

"Yet live with it you must." Rhaenyra then said to even more laughter.

Viserys was still wearing a smile on his face when he reached his chambers. It was one he came away with more than often when he saw how Aemon and Rhaenyra interacted with each other. Their betrothal was something he couldn't thank his grandmother enough for, as they were perfectly matched in Viserys' mind.

No sooner had he taken his seat than the knock came to the door and as he bid whomever to enter, he needed not look to see who it was who did so. His Hand, Lyonel Strong walked in and immediately began speaking to him about Aemon's fall and whether or not it was wise to allow him to compete in the tourney after all. Viserys sighed before taking a moment to answer.

"Had the injury been serious then mayhap you'd be right, Lord Hand. My nephew is a dragon, however, and it takes more than a small fall to keep a dragon from flying high."

"Of course, your grace."

"All is set for the morrow?" he asked and Lyonel nodded.

"Good then if there is nothing pressing, I'd like to take a moment to gather my thoughts."

Lyonel hesitated for a moment and Viserys was almost certain they were to have the very same discussion they'd spent far too much time on these past two years. For talk of his brother and the islands that he'd named himself king of was never too far from Lyonel's lips. Even more so since Daemon had begun charging ships a toll for their passage through the seas that he and Corlys Velaryon now controlled.

Aemon had told him it was what his father and Lord Corlys would seek to do and his nephew had always provided better counsel when it came to the Stepstones than his current and former Hand, or anyone else had. Yet it had become something that Lyonel brought up more than once and he'd even suggested they demand that they pay no toll at all. An idea that Viserys had shut down quickly and firmly. The islands needed to be garrisoned and once won, they now needed to be kept. Between what Daemon and Corlys had done at sea and what his nephew had done on land, that had been managed most effectively. The last thing Viserys wished for was to somehow rock that particular boat. Not when it brought him little benefit to do so.

"I shall leave you to your thoughts, your grace," Lyonel said and Viserys welcomed the words and his Hand leaving so swiftly.

Feet now up on a second chair and with a glass of wine in his hand, Viserys closed his eyes and relaxed. The tourney would begin on the morrow and the opening feast would follow. Both things he was looking forward to. As was seeing just how far his nephew would make it in the joust. He'd wager it was further than most would think. Smiling to himself as he sipped the wine, Viserys decided then and there that he'd place some of his own coin on Aemon too.

King's Landing 111 AC.

Ser Daeron Waters.

A Prince's pride was a fierce motivator and while Aemon was more humble than his father, it was not by much. So watching him take his frustrations for his fall out on those he later sparred with, Daeron was glad he'd warned them in advance. There were some, even among their own men, who'd worry they'd upset the prince and in turn his father, had he not done so.

Relieved to see the sparring session come to an end with no true injuries. Happy too to see Aemon laughing, japing, and patting those he fought on the back as he thanked them for the workout, Daeron hoped his charge's good mood would last the night. Though he very much doubted it would as things between Aemon, Rhaenyra, and the Queen's camp had grown ever tenser these past few moons.

In truth, they'd done so ever since Aemon had taken down the white stag that both Alicent and her father had wished Viserys to gift to Aegon. Daeron still chuckled occasionally at the memory of how after a fruitless day's hunting by the larger group, it was Aemon and his smaller one who'd brought back the prize. That the prince had then bowed and presented it to Princess Rhaenyra had not been lost on the Hightowers or their supporters. While the king merely looked on proudly at his nephew as he was most wont to do.

"What mischief do you think he's got planned for the night, Daeron?" Mychel Waters asked as Aemon drank down water and threw some on his face.

"Our prince has promised to be on his best behavior during this tourney," Daeron replied, rolling his eyes as he did so and garnering a full laugh from Mychel.

"Then I'm sure we can all rest easy." Donnel Locke chuckled.

Shaking his head and biting back his own laugh, Daeron moved from the wall he'd been leaning on as Mychel and two more of the Young Wolves joined him. The young man had come to them a little less than three years ago, sent by the new commander at Grey Gallows. The mere fact that Mychel had fought in battle for his father had made him a true friend in the eyes of Aemon and Mychel had risen high because of it. As too had many of the Young Wolves during their time in King's Landing. A prince's patronage was no little thing and Aemon had always rewarded loyalty properly.

"You're frowning again," Aemon said when Daeron reached him. The prince was almost smirking, though other than by looking directly into his eyes you'd not truly know.

"My prince exhausts himself far too much and I fear a princess' displeasure."

"The opening feast is on the morrow, Daeron, else I'd have trained far less vigorously."

Daeron stared at Aemon with a look of feigned shock on his face, while around the prince the Young Wolves laughed.

"You can do such a thing? Why my prince there is no end to your talents," he said as he performed a poor bow.

"Oh to face you in the tilts, Daeron, if only the gods gifted me so," Aemon said, to even truer laughs.

In that endeavor, Aemon would find no good fortune. While he was a decent lance, Daeron was not one who'd go far in the tourney and so he'd stick to the melee. There he'd be joined by some of the fiercest of the Young Wolves and originally they'd expected Aemon to participate in the melee too. The desire to ride and to wear Princess Rhaenyra's favor and the fires of jealousy regarding Harwin Strong having put paid to that idea.

"How is the head?" he asked, turning more serious as he looked to see if there was any further sign of injury.

"As hard as ever," Aemon replied, knocking his knuckles against his forehead. "Now, enough about non-consequential things, we've work that needs to be attended to do we not?"

"Aye, we do, my prince." Rickard Snow said as he finished drinking down his water from his own sparring session.

The group that left the Red Keep was made up of more than thirty men. All armed and in Aemon's case, armored. They strolled through the city as if they were on a simple pleasure jaunt, though their task was very much not a pleasurable one. Aemon himself had called for the meeting they were to go to and where at first it would be because of who his father was that bid their guests to attend, now it was just as much because of Aemon himself.

Through the streets where women smiled at the Prince of Flea Bottom, and down past alleys where children either looked on curiously or ran away in fear. Most of them having had stories told to them by their mothers or fathers of how to get on the bad side of the Bronze Dragon would incur his fury and lead to their doom. Down past the Street of Silk, where both the patrons and those who sold their wares offered bows or poor curtsies to the prince. For Aemon had taken a keen interest in seeing that the woman who served in the brothels weren't mistreated or harmed and it had earned him their favor and gratitude. Not that it had ever gone beyond a smile and a wave as far as Daeron knew.

Finally, they reached their destination, and quickly ten men took up their station outside the ramshackle building, while another ten entered and made sure it was safe for Aemon to do likewise. Only once they'd done so did Daeron give his own nod of approval and then Aemon and the rest of them then entered. Taking a seat, drinking only from the pouches they had brought with them, they waited. It would not be a long wait nor a bloodless one and the man who first spoke out of turn would never do so again. Mychel Waters blade making sure of that.

"You speak to my prince like that again and we'll see every single one of you gutted before we leave this place." Rickard Snow growled.

"We begs your pardon, Prince Aemon," Garriss said apologetically. He was an older man than the others who sat across from them and it was he who ran most of the pickpockets in King's Landing.

Aemon sat silently and Daeron wagered that the six men and one woman on the other side of the table were unable to keep his gaze. Murderers, thieves, and worse these men may be but should a prince of the realm really wish to see them dead, then death is what they faced. Each of them knew that. As they did the power that Aemon wielded among the Gold Cloaks and with the Young Wolves at his back. A power that Aemon wished to exert now and had been doing more and more these past few years since Otto Hightower had returned to Oldtown.

"I understand that there are rich pickings to be had during the tourney and I'm not against you all having a taste. Mouths need to be fed after all. "Aemon said, continuing right from where he'd left off when Morweg had decided it was a good time to argue with a prince. "However, I'll not accept greed nor gluttony on any of your parts."

Daeron looked from the prince to the six men and one woman who faced Aemon. Garriss who was the oldest. Red Rag, who was no doubt the ugliest with his hunched back and far too large eyes. There was One Eye Petyr who surprisingly was one of the best lookouts and jewelry procurers in King's Landing, mayhap even Westeros. The brothers, Balman and Balon Waters who used both force and threats to line their pockets. Lothor, who ran most of the child gangs, and finally Lady Rose who ran the girls that worked the taverns and lower establishments. All of them sat there cowed by the three and ten Nameday old boy that sat in front of them. It was a sight that he had no doubt the Rogue Prince himself would be more than proud of.

'Though Prince Daemon may simply have killed all eight of them instead of simply one'

Ignoring the voice in his head, Daeron instead paid far more attention to the one that now spoke far more firmly.

"No bodies in the streets and no ladies are to be harmed, am I understood?" Aemon said to nods of heads. "And when you're told to rein it in, you rein it in. No matter the prize you seek."

"What of the Gold Cloaks, my prince?" Lady Rose asked and Daeron wondered if the woman had ever been a beauty even in her youth. Her dank dark hair, rotten teeth, and blotchy skin certainly stopped her from being one now.

"They'll do as they usually do and any who come near you looking for bribes, well you know who to speak to," Aemon said looking to Rickard Snow who smirked at the thoughts of taking on more of his fellow brothers in gold.

"We thank you, my prince. For the warning." Garriss said as he and the others rose from their seats.

"It'll be given only the once, Garriss. See that my orders are followed or be ready to face the consequences." Aemon said leaving no room for doubt in his words and what they truly meant.

"They'll be followed, my prince." Lady Rose said, smiling and showing her yellowed and blackened teeth as she did so.

Aemon remained sitting until they'd left and then looked at him, Rickard, and Mychel.

"I think they'll take the warning, Aemon," Mychel said as Rickard nodded and all eyes now looked to him.

"They know what's to happen should they not, Aemon," he said and saw the prince's contented expression as he took a swallow from his water pouch.

They walked back to the Red Keep with purpose and upon arriving at it and seeing Rhaenyra walking with Harwin Strong, Daeron saw how Aemon stiffened. Other than earlier after he'd fallen, Aemon and the princess had shared little time together today and it was clearly bothering the prince. As too was how Harwin Strong looked at the princess, and not even that Rhaenyra, though clearly flattered, shared no such looks back at the older boy was enough to stop that from being so. Not being allowed to fly during the tourney or while it was this close to starting, helped not either.

"For the lads, Daeron. Let them enjoy the night on my coin and thank them for their service." Aemon said throwing him a coin purse.

"Your plans, Aemon?"

"To spend some time with the Grand Maester, and ready myself for the night ahead. It may not be a feast, but…."

"It's no ordinary meal either." Daeron finished for him.

"They never are, Daeron," Aemon said sadly as he took one last lingering look in the direction that Rhaenyra and Harwin Strong had walked off in before he then walked in the opposite direction.

Daeron and those with him watched until Aemon was out of sight, the prince saddened but not dejected. It was something they'd all seen at times with Aemon, how his mood could change and other than Rhaenyra, nothing anyone could do would change it back. Usually, it was when mention of his father was made, as it had been nigh on five years since last they'd seen each other. Though both of them wrote constantly and Aemon even helped with some of the practical needs of running his father's kingdom.

"Is the Strong Lad taking part in the joust?" Mychel asked him and Daeron shook his head in reply. "Thank the gods for that. A prince killing the son of the Hand of the King is not the start to the tourney we all wish for."

"A prince riding with the favor of the girl he loves, however…." Rickard added and Daeron chuckled as he opened up the coin purse.

"Now that will be something to look forward to. Right, which of you wishes coin?"

The Young Wolves drank and ate well that night. Most of them he would wager had spent an hour or more between the legs of one of the ladies in the Street of Silk, though some had their own ladies who'd granted them their favors. Daeron took to his bed alone, he was not quite fully drunk and more than eager for the day to come. He had little idea what that day would be one full of surprises nor that the night would be one that defined the next few years at court.

King's Landing 111 AC.

Alicent Hightower.

Alicent held Aemond in her arms and welcomed his suckling at her breast. Unlike with Aegon and Helaena, her second son spent more time with the wet nurse than with her and so this was a much rarer thing between them. So Alicent relished it even more than she had with her two older children and as Aemond ate his fill, she spoke softly to her son.

Once he had finished and had been winded, Alicent carried him herself as she made her way to the nursery. Aegon was at his lessons and Helaena was having her final fitting for the dress she'd wear at the opening of the tourney. No expense had been spared and even Aemond would wear an outfit that showed his dragon roots. As for Alicent's own outfit, she'd still not decided which of them to wear and as she walked with Aemond in her arms, she pondered on that very thing.

She was still doing so long after she'd left Aemond with his nurses and said her goodbyes to her son for the day. So lost in her thoughts was she that her wanderings took her far too close to the Grand Maester's rooms and granted her the sight of Prince Aemon as he walked arrogantly into the chambers. Runciter himself opened the door for him and the Grand Maester bore a large smile on his face as he then closed it behind him.

Had she a looking glass at hand, then Alicent would have seen the scowl she now wore. Though she needed no such thing to understand the anger of her thoughts and what the reason for that anger was. While her father had said it had been his own foolishness in pushing too hard on Aegon's behalf, Alicent believed him not. She was certain that Rhaenyra and more precisely, Aemon, had been behind the loss of his position and pin and she forgave them not for it.

"Fetch my brother," she said almost too loudly before one of her ladies-in-waiting ran off in search of Gwayne. Alicent left there staring at the door to the Grand Maester's chambers and finding the need to restrain herself from moving closer to hear what was being spoken of inside.

With great effort, she turned away and walked back to her own chambers, passing by one of the large open windows as she did so. Looking down into the garden below, Alicent caught sight of Rhaenyra and Harwin Strong and without even noticing it, she stopped and smiled as she looked down at them both. Harwin was a man, and Aemon was but still a boy, and it was clear to her that he was infatuated with the princess. As she believed Rhaenyra may very well be in return. So after watching them for a few moments, Alicent turned from the window and continued on her way. Her mood greatly improved, even if her resolve had only been strengthened. The last words that her father had spoken to her before leaving, now once again took on extra meaning.

"It falls to you, daughter. You hold the future of our House in your hands as I've done all I can."

"Father?"

"Aemon is his father's son and we'll find ourselves suffering with him on the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra too will be no friend to us. In time, the king must be made to see that Aegon is the only choice to be king. That he is the only heir the realm will accept."

"I fear he'll listen not, father."

"Then mayhap we must give him a reason to, daughter."

His daughter's virtue being called into question. A falling out between the princess and her betrothed. As well as Aemon giving in to the temper that Alicent and all in King's Landing had glimpsed from time to time. It was time for her to provoke a reaction in one or both of them, to help things along, and to play her part. For her son would be king and not Aemon, Rhaenyra, or the Rogue Prince himself would stop her from making that happen.

Arriving at her rooms, Alicent was pleased to see Gwayne had beaten her to them and that he was standing outside. Greeting her favorite brother warmly and bidding him join her inside, Alicent sent for refreshments for them both and waited until they'd been brought to her before she spoke on her reasons for summoning him.

"Aemon, he's taking part in the joust?" she asked and Gwayne looked at her curiously before nodding. "Then I shall seek champions, brother. Five men who Aemon would seek to challenge, you amongst them."

"Our cousins are excellent jousters and I know of a dozen or more knights who hold no love for the Prince of Flea Bottom," Gwayne said eagerly. Though Alicent found she misliked the use of Daemon Targaryen's old epithet when it came to his son.

"I want him humiliated, brother. I wish to see him fall and fall hard."

"I can assure you of that, sister." Gwayne's grin was enough to tell her that her brother was more than up to the task.

Had it been the melee, then Alicent would have needed to have men gang up on the young prince. Even then, there were few who could actually beat Aemon with a sword in his hand. The son took far too much after the father in that regard. Not to mention that the savage Northmen and noble bastards that Aemon had befriended would see that he was never outnumbered on the field. In the joust, however, it was a much different matter. Not only was Aemon less accomplished, but he'd have to face off against her champions alone. As for the princess.

"What tales are spoken of Princess Rhaenyra and Harwin Strong?" she asked and her brother looked at her confused, forcing Alicent to speak far more directly.

To her great annoyance, no one had dared speak of anything improper between the princess and the Hand's son and Alicent found herself hesitating for a moment. Shaming them both would go a long way toward causing her husband to doubt his daughter. It would cause issues with the Hand too, which was an added incentive for Alicent. Yet, she wondered if it was an arrow she dared to fire or even one that should be fired now.

Biting her tongue, she spoke no more on Rhaenyra as she remembered Viserys mentioning something about naming Harwin as the princess' sworn sword. While a scandal now would be beneficial, mayhap one later would be far more so. Close to the wedding between Aemon and Rhaenyra would be best of all, or so Alicent believed and so for now, she'd let things carry on without her intervention. In time, she'd raise concerns and let the gossip begin.

"Never mind. Aemon, Gwayne. Make sure he falls and far better for it to be by your own hands."

"I'll see it done," Gwayne said determinedly.

Alicent knew she could count on her brother for this. His own run-ins with Aemon had been embarrassing and hurtful to his pride and ego. Aemon had beaten him more than once in the sparring yard and even sent some of those savages with him to do so when he could not find the time himself. Thankfully, the prince had moved on to other targets for his anger and displeasure, but Gwayne had never forgiven him for humiliating him so. Alicent prayed to the gods that he'd be the one to give Aemon his comeuppance in the days to come. Although as long as someone did, it truly mattered not.

They spoke of things of little interest as they partook of the refreshments that had been brought to them. Gwayne would soon be heading back to Oldtown and Alicent wished him to carry a letter to their father, knowing full well that her brother would certainly be carrying one back upon his return to King's Landing. Alicent asked if there was a lady who'd caught her brother's eye and listened to gossip about which knight sought which lady's favor. Before eventually Gwayne said his goodbyes and left her alone for the day.

Later that night she dressed for the dinner and ran her fingers down the green dress she was now certain she'd wear during the opening feast. Making her way to the Throne Room, she soon found herself walking in company she liked not. Aemon and Rhaenyra having joined her and Viserys as they walked the last few feet and then entered together. As she took her seat at the High Table, Alicent wished she'd brought Aegon with her. Cursing herself for not doing so. Even though she'd decided not to since her son needed his rest for the morrow and the day they all had ahead of them.

Thankfully the meal seemed to be over most quickly and though it took some time until she could retire for the night, Alicent spent that time taking note of the mood of those present. Aemon and Rhaenyra had eyes only for each other and more than once during the meal, the princess' laugh had resonated around the Throne Room. Viserys had that look in his eye and his whispered words in her ear told her that she'd have to forgo an early night as he clearly expected her to do her wifely duties.

'Pain, frustration, and repulsion were all now to be her bedtime companions once again' she thought angrily.

Looking out at the faces around the Throne Room, Alicent found more than one set of eyes on the prince and princess and fewer on her or the king. None more fierce or determined than Harwin Strong who both looked longingly and jealously at Rhaenyra and Aemon. Alicent smiled far too openly at the sight and drew her husband's attention to her because of it.

"You're enjoying yourself, my love?" Viserys asked, his own smile present now too.

"Looking forward to the tourney, my love," she answered. Though that was only partly the reason for her smile and he needed not to know the rest of that reason.

'Not Yet'

The next morning.

Her husband had spent in her almost as soon as he'd entered her the night before. Alicent had then thanked the gods that it was over as quickly as it was. Sleep had been hard to come by, but eventually, she'd drifted off and dreamt of a far different dragon and a much truer pleasure to be found in her bed. The fingers of her left hand had then brought that pleasure to its natural release when she'd woken from the dream.

Alicent had dressed, and broken her fast with Viserys, her children, Aemon and Rhaenyra. She had sat and watched as Aegon and Helaena were ignored by their cousin and half-sister, only Aemond getting any of their attention at all during the morning meal. Once they'd eaten, it was time to change and make ready to head to the tourney grounds and Alicent had taken charge of her children's dressing personally.

Today they were being presented to the realm that one day Aegon would rule over. They had to look like what they were, trueborn sons and a daughter of House Targaryen. Even Alicent herself would be dressed as a Targaryen queen. Red and black was the color of even Aemond's swaddling blanket as she left nothing to chance. Alicent carried Aemon and held Helaena's hand while Aegon walked with his father to the awaiting carriage. She did her best not to glower at Aemon as he helped Rhaenyra into their own carriage and was glad to not have to suffer the sight of either of them for too long.

"Careful Sweetling," she said as Helaena almost stepped into a puddle. Her daughter's dress was too long for her still, and yet it needed to be so for when she sat upon her seat.

Viserys took Aemond from her arms and Ser Harrold helped Alicent into the carriage after she'd helped Aegon and Helaena inside. Then almost as soon as she took her seat the carriage moved and the tourney drew ever closer to its beginning.

In less than an hour, they were sitting in pride of place. Alicent beside Viserys, with Aemond in her arms and Aegon and Helaena on either side of her or their father. Aemon sat next to Rhaenyra and loathed though she was to admit it, they made a most striking couple. Around them, the great and good of the realm sat and the herald stepped up to announce the beginning of the tourney. Only for the sound of dragons to then ring out loudly in the sky above.

Like every other set of eyes, Alicent's looked to the sky and the sight she was presented with was one that was both awe-inspiring and fearful at the same time. Vermithor flew, riderless and flanking a red dragon while on the other side of it, Syrax flew too. Yet, it was the red dragon and the rider atop its back that Alicent, Viserys, and everyone else's attention was now fully concentrated upon. Right up to when that red dragon landed directly in front of them. Daemon Targaryen then climbed down off his dragon's back like a conquering hero returning from war and he was all that anyone paid any attention to.

The Rogue Prince had returned and as he walked towards the pavilion, his crown upon his head and his eyes focussed only upon his son, Alicent felt that old familiar stirring once again.

King's Landing 111 AC.

Daemon Targaryen.

Ruling over the Stepstones was dull and boring and had it not been for his son, then Daemon may have given it up years ago. Knowing however that it was Aemon's legacy, his inheritance, Daemon had instead done all he could to ensure that the islands were secure and sustainable. In that endeavor, he was helped greatly by his son, as Aemon showed an aptitude for logistics that Daemon and not even Corlys possessed. The deal his son had agreed with the Tyrells and Redwynes was just another example of that.

When not ruling from his seat on Bloodstone, Daemon would spend most of his time flying atop Caraxes or even visiting Essos. He'd met up again with Mysaria and rekindled their romance. Though it was not how it had used to be between them both. The loss of their child had soured whatever true feelings they had for each other and now it was simply a sexual thing between them. Still, having Mysaria by his side was most helpful as there were few who could ferret out secrets as well as she could. She'd even helped stop one or two attempts on his life and the lives of some of his most important men. Yet it was the news she had brought him about the celebrations in King's Landing that had been most welcomed by Daemon.

News that soon had him flying atop Caraxes once again.

Seeing it when it came into view, Daemon felt none of the usual excitement he would feel upon his return to the city. Not even the fact that it had been five years since he'd walked those streets or strolled through the Red Keep, was enough to make him feel happy to be back here. Instead, it was the thoughts of seeing Aemon again, of seeing the man his son was growing into, and of embracing him in his arms once more that was the reason for the small smile on his face. That and the idea of shocking everyone with his so very public return.

"Tegun Caraxes," he ordered the Blood Wyrm who after circling over the tourney grounds but once, did as he'd been bid.

Climbing down off his dragon's back, wearing his crown upon his head, and welcoming the shocked looks and hushed whispers, Daemon sought his son out and offered Aemon up his warmest smile upon seeing him. Had he been a different man, then there may have been tears in his eyes as he took in the sight of a now-standing Aemon. His son was taller than he expected, his dark hair was long and worn loose, and upon his face, Aemon now wore his mother's smile. He looked so much like her that Daemon was taken back to a time so many years before and he had to shake the memory from his head just so he could continue to walk toward the pavilion.

Standing next to Aemon, his niece was an absolute vision. Rhaenyra looked much like her mother, though there were little bits of her that reminded Daemon of his aunts too. Try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from glancing at his brother and Goodsister. One of them looked at him almost hungrily while the other seemed both shocked and yet pleased to see him. Strolling to the pavilion, Daemon looked up at Viserys and bowed his head but slightly. Then as Caraxes took to the sky, Daemon spoke in a loud and true voice.

"Your grace, I have returned to pay tribute to you and your lady wife on this day of celebration. I would ask your leave to join my son and niece and enjoy the festivities."

"Brother, you do me and my wife a great honor by returning so, and your request is both welcomed and granted."

"I thank you, your grace," Daemon said, turning to walk to the back of the pavilion and only making it halfway there before Aemon, Rhaenyra and some of Aemon's guards met him.

For a moment, Daemon and his son just stood there and took the other in. Daemon could see that despite his young age, Aemon had a warrior's body, proving the reports he'd had of him training extensively were clearly true. A few inches shorter than himself, Daemon would wager that Aemon may grow taller than he when he was older. He'd certainly be more muscled than Daemon was.

As for his son's expression, Aemon's eyes glistened as they took in the full sight of Daemon standing there. Then in the blink of one of those dark grey eyes, Daemon felt himself being embraced and heard his son's voice for the first time since he'd been exiled all those years ago. Aemon's words, just as his letters had before them, showed just how much he'd been missed and now how welcome his return was.

"It's truly you? You're not a dream? You're really here?" Aemon said as he refused to let Daemon go on the off chance that he'd simply disappear.

"It's me, son," Daemon said, his voice remarkably composed given the emotion he was feeling.

"I had not thought to dream it so," Aemon said. "I've….father I've missed you so."

"As I have you, son."

They stood looking at each other, Daemon with his hands on Aemon's shoulders as he took in his face fully while his son did likewise. All too soon, Aemon turned from him and Daemon chuckled when he saw it was to allow Rhaenyra her own greeting. His niece then embraced him just as warmly and truly as his son just had.

"Uncle. By the gods, you're truly here."

"Look at you, niece. A true vision, The Realms Delight indeed," he said as he kissed Rhaenyra's cheek.

A moment later he spoke briefly to Ser Daeron, Rickard Snow, and Mychel Waters. Then with Rhaenyra taking his arm and Aemon walking beside him, Daemon was led to the pavilion. He took his seat beside his son and then watched as the herald finished the announcement that Caraxes' arrival had interrupted. His eyes turned from his son to others in the crowd and they caught the queen's more than once.

Alicent looked at him with both hateful and lustful eyes and it brought a half-smirk to Daemon's face to see that some things hadn't changed. He looked around to see where her father was before remembering that Otto had been stripped of his position and sent back to Oldtown. His brother finally doing something worthy of a dragon. Trying both to have a conversation with his niece and his son and to watch the crowd proved too tiresome and so Daemon forwent the latter for the former.

"How long are you staying, uncle?" Rhaenyra asked as Aemon looked on keenly.

"For as long as I'm able. I have duties in the Stepstones, but I'm sure a moon or so wouldn't be out of the question."

"Will you compete, Father?" Aemon asked excitedly and Daemon shook his head.

"I find I've little appetite for mock battles after facing a true one, so no, I'll leave that to others, son. Besides, I'll not make my niece choose between her favorite uncle and her betrothed to see who wears her favor," he said winking at Rhaenyra who giggled adorably.

"Aemon has my favor now and always." his niece said a moment later and Daemon noticed how proudly his son sat at her words.

"Beaten by mine own son. A loss I can readily accept." he chuckled as he slapped Aemon on the back.

The wine was brought to him and he drank it only when Aemon nodded. It seemed that his son had clearly taken on yet another of the lessons that Daemon had wished him to learn. They spoke of minor and inconsequential things and barely paid any attention to the fools' show, the motley, or the archery when it took place.

By the time luncheon was called for, Daemon was ready for a warm bath and a change of clothing. Something he'd forgone just to spend more time with his son. The message, however, arrived before they'd made it to their carriage and so upon their arrival at the Red Keep, Daemon bid Rhaenyra and Aemon farewell for now and made his way through the halls and towards the Small Council Chambers. He was joined in his walk by Ser Daeron, the knight eager to answer any question that Daemon may have for him and yet he had few.

"Aemon is competing?" he asked as they neared their destination.

"In the joust only, my king."

"Not the melee?"

"Men don't truly wear favors in the melee, my king." Ser Daeron said and Daemon chuckled. The match made by his grandmother proved still that there were few who knew better than the good queen.

"What word is being spoken of about my return?"

"Little as of yet, my king. Most are simply shocked and so it'll be the night's feast before the gossip begins."

"And your men?"

"Will listen and report back on that gossip."

"Good," he said as he reached the door and saw the Kingsguard guarding it, which indicated that his brother was already inside.

"Your sword, my prince." Ser Criston Cole said and Daemon glared at the man, allowing Ser Daeron to speak for him.

"You speak to a king, Ser Criston, best mind your manners and do so respectfully."

"Forgive me, your grace." Ser Criston said with a mock bow.

"As for my sword, other than mine own son or the man who takes my life, no other will lay claim to Dark Sister. Now move lest I'm forced to bloody her with even more unworthy blood."

Ser Criston looked ready to argue with him, only for Ser Harrold Westerling to touch the knight's shoulder and move him out of Daemon's way. The look Daemon gave him as he then walked through the doors showed just how little he thought of him or his request. Entering the Small Council chambers, Daemon was unsurprised to see Viserys wasn't alone. Though it took him a moment to remember who it was that was now Hand of the King and for Daemon to name that man as Lyonel Strong.

"Brother," Daemon said, greeting Viserys more warmly than he'd thought he may.

"Brother," Viserys said just as warmly. "Now that the formalities are over," he said as he took a seat, Viserys laughing fully as he did so.

"I missed your irreverence, Daemon."

"I missed my son, Viserys," he replied before sighing. "Yet I'm here not to argue with you."

"Then why are you here, my prince?" Lyonel asked.

"I'm a king now, Lord Hand. The King of the Narrow Sea and like any man who wears a crown, I too should be titled as such should I not?"

"If we recognize your crown, my prince."

"You should lest I not recognize your ships as allies and allow them safe passage through the Narrow Sea."

"Daemon." Viserys chided.

"I've come to see my son, as I said. The time for my exile has long since passed and Aemon and I have been kept apart for far too long," he said pointedly as he looked at his brother.

"You have, brother. It was never my true intent, but alas it is what my actions brought down upon you both."

"Your crown, King Daemon. There is only room for one king in Westeros and to have two will cause issues." Lyonel Strong said and Daemon caught how Viserys looked at him and not at his Hand.

"My crown and the Stepstones belong to my son," Daemon said looking at Viserys. "On the day of his wedding, I will name Aemon as King of the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones shall be his gift to his new bride. Upon Rhaenyra's coronation, the islands shall be named the Eight Kingdom and brought under the purview of the Iron Throne."

"A wedding gift," Viserys said, his voice full of intrigue.

"A gift worthy of a queen is it not, brother?"

"It is, brother," Viserys said before turning to tell his Hand that Daemon and then Aemon after him would both be titled as the kings they were. Then Lyonel was asked to leave them alone.

Some wine was brought and Daemon watched as a taster was given some before he and Viserys partook. His brother looked at him with an odd smile on his face as they sat facing each other.

"Aemon's suggestion," Viserys said as the taster left the room. "I never saw the need for it, but your son can be most persuasive when he wishes to be."

"Yet not persuasive enough to be let visit his father."

"No, not then, no." Viserys sighed. "Your exile is lifted, Daemon. Fully and truly and I'll not keep your son from you any longer. I'll not ask for forgiveness for I know you too well, brother mine. Yet it's in the past and that's where it should stay."

"To the past," he said raising his glass, and though they both drank, only one of them would ever truly forget what the other had done.

"How long will you stay?" Viserys asked curiously.

"A moon or so. Any more would put the islands at risk and I've no doubt that the Triarchy will seek to take them back at least one more time."

"You truly believe so?"

"I know so," Daemon said firmly and Viserys laughed a true and full laugh.

"Aemon said the same, brother. By the gods, he's your son in so many ways."

"But not in others?" he asked curiously.

"No, thank the gods," Viserys said and they both laughed a little at that.

Daemon spoke little about his plans but asked for leave to travel to Dragonstone and Driftmark and for Aemon and Rhaenyra to accompany him. It took Viserys a moment or two to grant it, but eventually he did and then they spoke on the night's feast and the tourney itself. His brother even managed to surprise him when he said that he'd put some coin on Aemon to win the entire thing.

"You think him that good?" he asked.

"I think him that determined."

"He and Rhaenyra?"

"A match made by the very gods themselves. Though should we have expected any less from our grandmother."

"No, she was far smarter than even grandfather was when it came to such things."

"It's good you've returned, Daemon." Viserys smiled

Daemon eventually got his bath and changed his clothes, he even managed to grab a quick nap before readying himself for the night's feast. He'd promised Aemon and Rhaenyra a night they'd never forget and as he made his way to the Throne Room, he had a twinkle in his eye. It was time his son became a man and had a father's guiding hand once more.

King's Landing 111 AC.

Rhaenyra.

The kisses grew ever more passionate, as they had done for more than a year now. Even their touching of each other had moved on from awkward fumbling to now being far more practiced and enjoyable. Still, much as she'd have welcomed continuing with what they were doing, Rhaenyra knew she had to stop Aemon before they got too out of control. Something that was becoming harder for her to do each time they were alone together as her own desires and needs almost begged for things to go further between them.

"The feast Aemon," Rhaenyra said breathlessly and she almost laughed at seeing the pout on her betrothed's face. As well as the hungry look in his dark grey eyes.

"You're all I hunger for, Nyra," Aemon whispered in her ear before biting it gently.

"The feast Aemon," she said more firmly and he smiled at her before kissing her softly and then moving away.

"Very well, we'll go to this feast then if we must."

"We must, we must." she giggled. Adoring the put-out look on his face and the way Aemon rolled his eyes as he spoke.

Rhaenyra, however, knew the truth of things. She knew that unlike so many of the feasts they'd been forced to attend over the years, and even this one as late as this very morning, Aemon now truly wished to go to this particular feast. His father's surprise arrival had changed her betrothed's mood so completely that he was almost like a different person. Almost, but he still remained her Aemon as always.

"What do you think your father's surprise for us is?" she asked as she fixed her dress and hair.

"Only the gods know, it's a surprise, remember," Aemon said and she stuck her tongue out at him, earning her one of his true laughs in response.

Standing up and looking at herself in the looking glass before then turning to look at Aemon, she felt they made a striking couple. Both of them were dressed as what they were, dragons. Aemon in a long dark coat, scarlet shirt, and black leather britches. The dragon pin she'd gifted him for his last Nameday stood out and was worn proudly on his chest. While Rhaenyra wore a dark black dress with red accents, which was accessorized by the only piece of jewelry that she always wore, a locket that Aemon had gifted her and that depicted Syrax and Vermithor entwined.

"Now go back from whence you came, Aemon Targaryen. I wish to be escorted like the princess and future queen I am," she said half seriously.

"As my princess commands," Aemon said bowing over elaborately and almost earning himself a smack to his shoulder in the process.

Instead, Rhaenyra simply smiled at his retreating form and watched him hurry out through the secret door that only she and he knew about. He was gone for now more than a few moments before she heard the knock on her main door and Ser Steffon popped his head inside to tell her that her cousin was without.

"I shall be with him presently, Ser Steffon." Rhaenyra declared, certain it would frustrate Aemon a little and giggling to herself before she rose from the bed to put him out of his misery.

Aemon was almost leaning casually against the wall when she walked out of her room. He then made a rather large spectacle of himself as he quickly stood to attention and looked at her as if he'd not just been in her room and kissing her but a few moments earlier. Though she'd not lie and say she didn't welcome his words or the look in his eyes as he spoke them.

"You look an absolute vision, Nyra. A gift from the Maiden herself. Does she not, Ser Steffon?"

"She does, my prince." Ser Steffon said smiling at her and Rhaenyra blushed just a little. More because of the knight's words than Aemon's. For her betrothed had already told her such when he'd come to her room earlier.

"It would be my great and true honor to escort you to the night's festivities, my princess," Aemon said as he offered her his arm.

"Of course, it would, my prince," she said to a chuckle from Ser Steffon as she took Aemon's arm and together they walked to the Throne Room.

Unlike others who'd entered through the main doors, they entered from the side and as they did so, almost everyone in the Throne Room now looked their way. Rhaenyra caught sight of her father who was sitting alone, which irked her greatly. Though for now she put it aside and wondered if mayhap Alicent had a need to use the privy or something.

Her uncle sat next to her father and they seemed to be getting along, which she was more than happy about. Both of them looked her and Aemon's way as they walked to the high table and Aemon pulled out her seat for her once they reached it.

"The Realm's Delight indeed." her uncle said and Rhaenyra, her father, and her uncle were all soon laughing when Aemon japed not more than a moment later.

"No one ever cares what I wear." Aemon sighed overdramatically.

"When faced with the light of the moon no one looks at a star, Aemon." her uncle said and Rhaenyra blushed even more than she had with Ser Steffon's compliment

"Why don't you have a silver tongue like your father's, Aemon?" Rhaenyra asked with a smirk as Aemon took his seat.

"I didn't get his hair or eyes either, the gods are most cruel indeed." Aemon japed to a full laugh from her father and from his own.

"No son, you got your coloring from your mother. The Old Gods of the North and not the Seven of the South are who blessed you." her uncle said and Rhaenyra reached her hand out and squeezed Aemon's hand tightly as she knew what mention of his mother did to him.

Turning to look at her betrothed, Rhaenyra was happy to see that there was no sadness or regret in Aemon's expression. Mayhap it was because his father was complimenting him too or because he was simply telling Aemon that he carried his mother with him in his looks and manner. Something that she knew that Aemon would be just as proud of as he was of being his father's son.

The conversation flowed and Rhaenyra found her father's company to be far more to her liking with her uncle acting as a foil between them. Her father's mood too seemed to be far more jovial than it usually was at these feasts. Aemon though was in his element. Conversing with her, with her father, and with his own. Starting most of the japing and rarely had she seen him in such a good mood. So much so that when that mood changed, it took her a few moments to notice it and the reason for it.

That reason had just made her entrance into the Throne Room and unlike how Rhaenyra, Aemon, and she'd wager her father and uncle had entered, Alicent came in through the main doors. Was that not enough of a break from protocol and propriety, then the dress she wore certainly was. Her stepmother was dressed from head to toe in green. She entered not as a Dragon but as a Lighthouse Keeper's daughter and the glare she received from Aemon for doing so was one that chilled even Rhaenyra a little.

"Your grace, forgive me for my lateness," Alicent said sweetly when she reached the High Table.

"There is naught to forgive, my love." her father replied and Rhaenyra turned to look at him incredulously.

Had he but looked at the expression on her uncle's face. Or had he noticed the way Aemon was grinding his teeth and staring daggers at his queen. Then her father would surely have known there was indeed something that Alicent was in dire need of forgiveness for. Should he turn to look at Rhaenyra, he'd have seen that she was in no mood to forgive her stepmother and would certainly not be doing so this night.

When the dancing began, it was her uncle rather than her betrothed who asked her first. Rhaenyra took a moment to make sure Aemon's upset was the reason why he'd not asked her and she smiled when he kissed her cheek for doing so.

"Now niece, you may have to forgive me if your pretty little toes get stood on more than once, I'm much out of practice."

"I seem to remember you were always light on your feet, nuncle."

"Then let's pray that's still true."

It proved to very much be so. Her uncle danced exquisitely and was never short of something to say as they did so. Some of the things he brought up were things she'd known, others she'd suspected, and some were complete surprises to her. Though they explained some of Aemon's attitudes to her far better than she'd been able to up to that point. Such as why he held such disdain for Criston Cole and even why he'd fallen from his horse during his jousting practice the other day.

"Never have I seen so many eyes on one lady in all my years. You truly are a vision, niece."

"Thank you, nuncle." she blushed.

"I can see so many in this room who'd like to stab me through the heart just to be the man who danced with you. Not even a cloak of white it seems is enough to soothe such passions or desires." her uncle said as Ser Criston looked their way. "As for the Strong Lad, I wager he'd even take the risk of facing Dark Sister were you to but will it of him."

Rhaenyra glanced at where Ser Harwin sat and she saw how keenly he looked at her. When they passed where Ser Criston stood on duty, she found his eyes were looking her way far more than they were searching the room for threats. Looking up to the high table, she saw how Aemon alternated between looking at her and his father fondly and glaring at either Ser Harwin, Ser Criston, or most of all Alicent.

"There is only one set of eyes I care to see look my way, nuncle. One man I seek to enflame passion or stoke desires in," she said truthfully.

"As for him there is only one woman I've no doubt." her uncle said. His tone was serious and even happy or so she believed.

Before she had a moment to consider whether or not Aemon truly felt as she did, even though she was almost certain he did, her betrothed tapped his father on the shoulder.

"May I steal my betrothed from you, father?" Aemon said smiling at them both.

"Only you may, son." her uncle replied as he kissed her hand and then stepped away from them both.

The feel of Aemon's arms as they wrapped around her and the look in his eyes as he stared into her own, was enough to show most clearly the difference between this dance and the previous one. Her uncle complimented her and Rhaenyra had no doubt that Daemon had meant the words as truly as he spoke them. Aemon did so without words. A simple look was enough to tell her that his eyes were only now on her and that his attention was where she wished it to be.

"You truly do look a vision tonight, Nyra," Aemon said softly and though she wished to compliment him back, she couldn't find the words to do so.

They danced through three more songs. The last of them was one that was so soft and slow that Rhaenyra found herself almost forgetting where they were. Aemon whispered words of endearment in her ears and kissed her cheek more than once. At one point, she rested her head on her betrothed's chest and just listened to the beating of Aemon's heart. Even finding herself counting those beats as Aemon moved her around the room. Eventually, the music stopped and the little dream that she'd been enjoying came to an end. As too did Aemon's good mood as they walked back to the high table.

"Not here and not now, Aemon," she said as she came back to herself. A part of her hoped that Alicent could see the same fire in Aemon's eyes that she could and that her stepmother understood just how close she was to facing a dragon's flames tonight.

"As my princess commands," Aemon said, before turning to kiss her lips softly and chastely.

Ser Harwin came and asked her to dance some time later and though she wished not to, she knew full well how it would look to reject him so publicly. A squeeze from Aemon's hand was enough to tell her that he understood and though his expression showed he liked it not, he simply smiled at the much larger knight when she rose to her feet.

Rhaenyra in turn kept a respectable distance away from Ser Harwin as they danced and she found his compliments and looks to be far more annoying than she'd expected she might. It made her wonder if it was because of what her uncle had said and how he'd pointed things out to her or if it was just as much to do with her anger at Alicent. In the end, it mattered not. So after a far more stilted dance than she wagered Ser Harwin expected, the knight escorted her back to the high table.

Taking her seat, she found that both Aemon and her uncle were almost mirror images of themselves. A dark and light version given their looks alone. Both of them looked out on those who sat, ate, danced, and made merry, and both took note of their moods and demeanors. Aemon was looking to the Lannister table, to the Lords of the West and those of the Reach. While Daemon looked more to the Riverlords and to Lord Grover Tully in particular. Rhaenyra barely heard it when Aemon spoke softly in her ear and so she was surprised when he rose to his feet and walked to one of the tables. Her eyes then followed him all the way as her uncle moved to speak to her.

"Though it's been some time since I last saw my son, his moods are still as obvious to me as ever." Daemon began and Rhaenyra laughed so as to make it seem they were making idle conversation. "Rarely have I seen him as angered as he is right now."

"You should see him in the yard, nuncle," Rhaenyra said. Her uncle chuckled as he told her that they planned to spar on the morrow.

Watching Aemon move around the room, Rhaenyra took note of who he spoke to and who he did not. Lord Redwyne, Lord Butterwell, and Lord Baratheon were all among those that she betrothed spent his time with. While he ignored the Lannisters and the Lords of the West and spoke far more to the Vale Lords and finally to Lord Bracken and Lord Blackwood. Beside her at the High Table, her stepmother's attention was split between Aemon and his father. Alicent tried and failed to give equal time to both and Rhaenyra almost asked her uncle if the rumor she'd heard Aemon and Ser Daeron speak about was true.

Before she got a chance to do so, Aemon was back and for the rest of the night they spoke jovially and he was back to his jape starting mood of earlier on. Alicent retired before Rhaenyra's father did and her departure was welcomed by Aemon, Daemon, and by herself. Her father stayed a little longer before he too departed. As the feast began to wind down, her uncle told both her and Aemon to change their clothes for something that marked them out not as the dragons they were.

Little more than an hour or so later, Aemon, his father, and Rhaenyra along with some of the Young Wolves were moving down side streets and through parts of the city that she had never been before. Aemon held her hand and wore more than one dagger on his person that she could see, as well as his sword. While her uncle bore Dark Sister on his hip too. So she felt no danger and only excitement at the adventure to come. The promise of one at least.

"Where are we…" Aemon placed a finger to her lips and Rhaenyra looked to see people making merry in the streets. Though it was a far different celebration than the feast they'd attended earlier that night and as she began to smell food cooking, she found her appetite rising.

Reaching out to take what looked to be some chicken, Rhaenyra found her hand grabbed and almost cried out, only to see it was Aemon who did so and that he was shaking his head.

"Not here, trust me you do not wish to eat such things." her betrothed said and his words and expression left her in no doubt that he spoke truly.

Eventually, after walking through sights that made her laugh, frown, cover her eyes, and wish to see more, they arrived at their destination. Daemon's surprise was now revealed in all its glory and Rhaenyra was soon blushing and hiding her head in Aemon's chest at what she now saw. Her uncle had taken them to a brothel and was that not bad enough, the patrons and ladies who worked there were all engaged in their salacious activities most openly.

Around her men coupled with women, women with other women, and even men with men. In some places, it was one on one. While in others there was more than one couple engaged in some sexual act or another. Rhaenyra saw a woman drop to her knees and reach out to undo a man's britches. She looked on as a man parted a woman's thighs so he could feast on what lay between them and as another took a woman from behind. His thrusting was both vigorous and energetic, even if it didn't seem to last very long.

So overwhelmed was she by the sights she saw that she heard not the argument that Aemon was having with his father. Only seeing it when her uncle moved to grab one of the ladies and then strip her completely. Her eyes were torn between that sight and the sight of another lady moving to where Aemon stood. Jealousy and possessiveness quickly won out over curiosity as she then grabbed her betrothed and kissed him passionately. Rhaenyra felt the need to show that he belonged to her and that the dragon within her was not about to share Aemon with another.

"We should not be here," Aemon said when they broke from their kiss.

"No, we should not." she smiled.

"Nyra.."

"A little while longer, Aems," she said and he looked at her, at his father who now had two women he was entertaining, and around the large open room they were in, before nodding reluctantly.

Had she any doubt that Aemon was just as possessive about her as she was about him, then how he moved to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind would put that to rest. As too would how he motioned with his head for two men from the Young Wolves to take up positions behind them.

More accustomed to the sights that were being presented to her now, Rhaenyra looked at them with a far more discerning eye. All the while, Aemon spoke softly in her ear and kissed her neck or lips when she presented them to him. Her betrothed even touched her breasts more than once as they stood there. Though as much as she may have wished for him to do so, Aemon never once attempted to move his hand to help soothe the heat that built up between her legs.

Eventually, she grew bored with the sights and when she bid Aemon to take her back to the Red Keep, she swore he looked more than happy to do so. Leaving her uncle to continue doing whatever it was that Daemon was now doing to a young dark-haired woman, Aemon took her by the arm and they were soon outside and moving through the streets. At one point during their journey back to the Red Keep, some men blocked their way. Rhaenyra would wager they only walked away with harsh words spoken to them because Aemon wished her not to be caught up in swordplay. Though the words proved enough and the men quickly scurried away.

"Were they truly dangerous, Aems?" she asked almost eagerly. Rhaenyra suprisingly finding that she would enjoy it more if the night had turned out to have a little danger in it too.

"All men are dangerous, Nyra. Some are just less so than others." Aemon replied, his eyes alert as he looked around them as if to convince himself that the shadows themselves were no danger to them.

As they snuck through the Red Keep, Rhaenyra pondered much on what Aemon had said. To her mind, it was not only men who were dangerous and was someone to ask her who posed the most danger to Aemon or to herself, then she'd name her stepmother first and foremost. Alicent was still on her mind as they neared her rooms. Mayhap she would have been for even longer, only for Rhaenyra to then hear a voice that had Aemon turning so quickly that the loss of his arm almost sent her falling to the ground.

"Begone dwarf. Lest Vermithor finds himself enjoying a small meal this night." Aemon threatened the small figure that moved out of the shadows. Rhaenyra then took a moment to compose herself and see just who it was that had halted their return to her room.

"I mean no harm, my prince. Just bear some advice you may heed." Mushroom said and Rhaenyra, after steadying herself, looked to the dwarf who served as the Red Keep's fool.

"What advice need I from you?" Aemon asked dismissively.

"None, my prince. Yet it is yours regardless." Mushroom replied and Aemon nodded, bidding the dwarf to continue. "The night is dark and full of terrors, my prince," Mushroom said and Rhaenyra had never seen such a look come over Aemon's face as the one that did right then.

"Begone, but find me on the morrow."

"My prince. My princess." Mushroom said smiling at them both before leaving them alone.

"Aems?"

"It's nothing, Nyra, for now at least," Aemon said and they soon continued on their way.

They snuck past Ser Steffon who was guarding her room and made their way to Aemon's, her betrothed then helping her to her own room down one of the secret passages that she believed he knew better than any. Once in her room, she was quickly enveloped in Aemon's arms and again she felt his lips on hers. His hands roamed and explored and even came close to touching where she wished him to and doing so more than once. Not that he ever did and yet as she looked up into his eyes, Rhaenyra instead took comfort in the fact that she could see that he very much wished to.

"I should go," Aemon said as he kissed her again.

"You should."

"I should."

"You should," she repeated.

"I don't wish to," Aemon said and she smiled as she kissed him.

"Nor do I wish you to, but…"

"Two more years, Nyra."

"Two more years, Aems," she responded and they kissed one final time.

After he'd left her alone, Rhaenyra undressed and climbed into her bed for true. Lying there she tried not to think of all the things she'd seen in the brothel. Failing miserably in this regard. Rhaenyra tried her best not to imagine Aemon and her doing some or all of those things. In the end, despite wishing to let her fingers roam and to see if she could remove the heat that had built up between her thighs, Rhaenyra finally closed her eyes and did her best to sleep.

"Two years and then he is mine and I am his." she smiled and hoped to dream of their wedding day as she had done more than once.

King's Landing 111 AC.

Aemon Targaryen.

After leaving Rhaenyra in her room, Aemon found himself walking around the Red Keep almost in a daze. He was annoyed at his father and the surprise he'd given them both. Thankful that Rhaenyra hadn't been too dismayed by what they'd then witnessed at the brothel if not so much for the thoughts he now had in his head about his future wife. Yet it was Mushroom's words that preyed on his mind as he walked.

"The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors," Aemon said softly.

There was something familiar about that phrase. A feeling that he had heard it somewhere or sometime and had done so more than once. Unfortunately, Aemon was having no luck or good fortune in figuring that out, and in his wanderings he'd found himself face to face with a man he'd no wish to speak to this night. Ser Criston was his knight, however, and Aemon his squire, so ignoring the man was not something he could do either.

"A good night, my prince?" the knight asked, his question full of bite. How Aemon kept the anger out of his reply, he knew not.

"An enlightening one, Ser Criston."

"For the princess too no doubt." Ser Criston said smugly and Aemon was now certain that the knight knew exactly where he and Rhaenyra had been.

"It must frustrate you greatly, Ser," Aemon said, his annoyance coming to the fore. "To look but not touch, to want but to know you can never have," Aemon said, holding back his smirk.

"I know not what you mean, my prince." Ser Criston said through tightened lips.

"As I'm sure neither does Ser Harwin." Aemon spat back before walking away from the knight and onward to his rooms.

They were words he'd wished to speak and yet had held back for far too long. The longing looks that Ser Criston had sent Rhaenyra's way had become more and more apparent to Aemon as his betrothed grew from a girl to a woman. At times Aemon would wager that not even his vows would stop the Stormlands knight should Rhaenyra even give but an indication that she welcomed his interest.

Looking back now at his time spent under Ser Criston's tutelage, Aemon was certain he'd noticed those looks even when Rhaenyra was but a girl. That it had been that, along with the knight's felling of his father during the tourney some years past, which had influenced his own feelings regarding Ser Criston. Feelings of distrust, dislike, and a sense that the knight and he would never be friends and mayhap may even be enemies at some point. Whatever the truth of it, Aemon knew that unlike Ser Harwin or Rhaenyra's many other admirers, Ser Criston's interest annoyed him greatly. Though for the life of him, Aemon couldn't answer quite why that was.

Reaching his room, he gave his guards a wry smile and walked inside, the bed almost calling to him and sleep something he very much needed. The joust would begin tomorrow and it was one where he intended to make his name. Turning up without rest and after a short night's sleep was not how to go about doing such. So Aemon quickly undressed and was abed in moments. His dreams then came to him almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

"Azor Ahai."

"The Prince that was Promised."

"The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors but we walk in the Lightbringer's light."

Men, women, and children cheered as the dark figure strode forward, a white wolf by his side, and when he drew his sword, the light from it was blinding. A red-headed woman looked at the figure with such a look of devotion that one would almost name them lovers. Yet, to do so would be folly. For it was a very different kind of love the woman was exhibiting.

"Together we will Bring the Dawn." the dark figure called out.

When he woke the following day, Aemon had but one question on his mind. A question he pondered even as he broke his fast with Rhaenyra, his father, his uncle, his cousins, and their mother. Even when he sat on his horse and made a big show of publicly asking for and receiving his betrothed's favor, Aemon still asked himself why the voice he'd heard in his dream sounded so much like his own.

It was why after he'd challenged the first of Alicent's champions, a Hightower cousin named Gerold, Aemon had needed more than six tilts to unhorse him. Why when he rode back and waited for his chance to challenge another of Alicent's five champions, his father looked at him and shook his head. The disappointment and worry in his father's expression were finally enough to let Aemon shake loose the thoughts he'd been having and concentrate on what it was he was now doing.

After beating Alicent's second champion, another Hightower cousin, this one named Garth, Aemon turned his attention to the man he truly wished to unhorse. Gwayne Hightower and he had a fractious relationship, to say the least. Ever since he'd uttered words against Rhaenyra some years earlier, Aemon had taken every chance he could to remind the Hightower knight that he too was simply a Lighthouse Keeper's son. In the yard, Aemon had beaten Gwayne so many times and so easily that the knight now refused to face him. Though they'd never faced off against each other with a lance in hand.

"Ser Gwayne, I would challenge you to joust against me," Aemon called out loudly. His voice carrying in the silence that had accompanied his horse's approach to where Alicent's three remaining champions awaited.

"I would be glad to accept it, my prince," Gwayne said eagerly as the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves.

As with Aemon, Gwayne too wore a favor on his arm, this one belonging to Alicent. By rights and protocol, Aemon should have asked the other two champions to face him first, but being a prince and Daemon Targaryen's son, boldness was not only expected but necessary. So there would be no voice raised at his breaking of propriety and only the result truly mattered in the end.

Atop his jet-black stallion, Zokla (Wolf) Aemon cut an imposing figure. The new suit of armor he wore had been specially made for the occasion. It had been forged by some of the finest smiths in the land and Aemon had spared no expense on it. Its plate was as black as a moonless night, while underneath it Aemon wore a coat of Valyrian Steel ringmail. A gift from his father and one that Aemon had at first refused, only to accept when it was impressed upon him just how important it was that he protected himself. There were large circular rondels, enameled in black and bronze, and the fastenings themselves were cast in bronze.

Bronze couters protected his elbows and Aemon wore a skirt of lobster metal and a solid silver gorget. Though he'd taken off his crimson and bronze cloak, it too was one made to send a message, as was the jewelry that had been used as its clasp. The ruby brooch was set in gold and surrounded by ten small black diamonds and had been worn by the Conqueror himself. It too was a gift, though this one was from his great-grandmother upon her passing and had been left to Aemon in her will.

For Aemon though it wasn't the armor, nor even the black dragon winged helm that he was most proud of, but the shield he now bore in his left hand. Made from oak and steel, the shield was an exact replica of the Ironwood one he'd been gifted by his mother's family. While it bore the image of a large White Weirwood protected by the imposing figure of the Bronze Dragon painted on its side. Both sides of Aemon's bloodline standing out proudly for all to see and as he took his lance from Rickard Snow, Aemon could see the smile the Northman wore as he wished him good fortune.

"Against Gwayne, I doubt I'll need it." Aemon japed. Though for all his dislike of the Hightower knight, Aemon knew he was a more than decent jouster.

Rhaenyra's favor tied securely to his arm and now flying in the wind, Aemon raced down the tiltyard and lowered his lance. Up in the stands, four sets of eyes looked on more keenly than others. Only one of them was willing on Gwayne to be victorious. While the dragons that were the other three all willed their blood to win out. Was Aemon to but look to where Rhaenyra and his father sat, then he'd see the worry on his betrothed's face and the eager look on his father's. Aemon, however, looked only at the man and horse that charged toward him.

The lances hit the shields and neither man fell. Aemon quickly turned Zokla around and his black stallion began to charge once more. This time the lances shattered and so after being handed a new one, the tilt began anew. Four, five, six times they rode against each other, and if Aemon was being honest then he'd wager he was losing three to two. On the seventh tilt, as he rode, Aemon bid Zokla to go even faster and his stallion proved to be a much truer mount than the mare that Gwayne rode upon. One of the two horses was tiring much more quickly than the other and in turn, it was that which allowed Aemon to unhorse the queen's brother.

Though he liked the man not, Aemon stopped his horse and waited until Gwayne rose to his feet before returning to where Rickard and others awaited him. Pride hurt, annoyed at his loss, and angered at Aemon that Gwayne may have been, he'd not be taking this to swords. Looking to the queen and to her two remaining champions, Aemon wore a true smile on his face at the thought that he'd now, barring some misfortune, win the day. It was not to be one he wore for long as no sooner had he dismounted than he then faced his own challenge.

"I know you not, Ser knight," Aemon said as he looked at the young man in front of him. A sigil of House Oakheart worn proudly on the man's chest.

"Ser Arthor Oakheart. " the knight said naming himself before asking far too cockily. "Are you refusing to face me, my prince?" the knight smirked.

"If it's what you wish for then I'll be most happy to do so. Though why you'd wish it I know not." Aemon said.

"To make mine own name, my prince." the knight said as he turned and left Aemon standing there with Rickard Snow and Mychel Waters.

"You know this man?" he asked both of them and they both shook his head. "Find Ser Daeron and see if there is more to this than meets the eye," Aemon said to Mychel who ran off to do as he'd been bid.

They had some time to wait until he next rode and so after brushing down his stallion himself and making sure that Zokla had plenty of water, and even an apple or two, Aemon checked his shield and lance. He was more than happy to see the shield had held firm and he still had close to half a dozen lances that were intact. More than enough to see him through the day even with an unexpected tilt to come.

Ser Daeron arrived himself to tell him that he knew little about the Oakheart knight other than he was close to the Hightowers and so mayhap sought some favor with them. Aemon then warily mounted his horse and was readying himself to ride when Mushroom appeared before him once again.

"My prince, our talk." the dwarf called out and Aemon didn't need to look at his men to know they were glaring at the court's fool.

"Not now."

"Be careful, my prince, I'd not wish to see you fall, and coin and favor are always true motivators." the dwarf said cryptically.

As he rode toward the knight, Aemon saw how the queen looked at the young man. Ser Criston, Gwayne Hightower and his cousins, were all too staring at Ser Arthor far more than they looked his way. Out of the corner of his eye, Aemon was certain he saw his father move forward in his seat and so gripping the lance even more tightly and bringing his shield further up, he steadied himself.

Not once that day did he hit a better strike than the one he caught Ser Arthor Oakheart with. His shield being held higher than normal had blocked the knight's own lance, while Aemon had put every ounce of strength into his strike and unhorsed the man in an explosion of wood and to his horror, blood. Jumping from Zokla's back, Aemon ran to the prone knight and looked on as with his hands on his throat, Arthor tried and failed to stem the flow of blood that gushed out of his wound.

Tearing off his gauntlets, shouting for a Maester, Aemon could do little but watch as the knight's lifeblood pooled against his fingers and as the light began to go from his eyes. He could do little but offer a prayer to the Seven and try not to think that he'd just taken a life. The time for whatever guilt he felt over that was no doubt to come later, after all.

"May the Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, and Smith welcome you into their embrace. May the Warrior look down upon you and deem you worthy and may the Stranger carry you to one of the Seven Heavens," he said as Ser Arthor Oakheart breathed his last and as Aemon looked down upon his now bloodstained hands.

The jousting continued even after Ser Arthor's body was taken from the field, but Aemon's day was done. Though he'd washed his hands more times than he could count, each time he looked at them he could only see them covered in blood. Words were spoken to him by his father, Rhaenyra, the king, and even the queen, and yet Aemon would not be able to say who spoke what or when.

He didn't attend the night's feast and instead made his way to the Dragonpit where Vermithor almost seemed to be waiting for him. By the time he was ready to take to the sky, Aemon had been joined by his father and by Rhaenyra and so along with Syrax and Caraxes, the dragons flew and left the city and the blood he'd spilled in it behind.

Yet even in the darkness, that blood seemed still to cover Aemon's hands and it took far longer than it should for peace and calmness to be all his heart knew once more. The night may be dark and full of terrors, but at times the day was no better. It was a lesson that Aemon had now learned and one he would never forget. A lesson that he knew not he'd be putting into practice much over the years to come.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. So things are still hectic, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. Anyway, for now, it'll remain a guarantee of one update per week, with an aim for two. Hopefully, things will settle and I'll be able to go back to at least two updates guaranteed weekly.

Up Next: As Aemon deals with the fallout from his killing of Ser Arthor Oakheart, he and his father spend time together and along with Rhaenyra visit Dragonstone and Driftmark. Daemon turns down the offer of a seat on the Small Council and instead recommends that Aemon is given a role. Before he then says his goodbyes to his brother, niece, and his son. Preparations are made for a Royal Procession as Aemon and Rhaenyra make ready to visit as much of the Kingdoms she'll one day be the queen of as they can. While in the North, the Starks prepare a welcome befitting a wolf who is a dragon.

For those following my other fics, Last Wolf will be updated this week and I'll know then which update will follow.

Tom: Sorry for the delay, hope you feel it was worth the wait.

CEW: Exactly, that's precisely what Daemon has been doing. With help both from Viserys, minor, and Aemon, major. Yes, Laena and Daemon are to be matched, for a couple of different reasons than canon, but they will be marrying. As for Aemon/Rhaenyra, knowing that they were always destined to be wed has been most helpful in making them a good match, as has their own personalities. Aemon's jealousy is simply because of sharing Rhaenyra's attention, he's sort of had it all for so long. As for him and Criston, it's coming lol. Otto may be gone, but he's far from forgotten and has certainly not forgiven those he thinks responsible.

Dominka: We'll see, I've no plans for it, but you never know which way a story will take you, even one you plan out lol.

Weary Legends: Thanks so much for saying so, it means a lot.

Celexys: So for Aemon and Rhaenyra, they're the same age, born in 97 AC. So here now, they're just turning or turned 14.

TehStorm: Daemon will hand it, to his son. He is sort of playing a game with Viserys too, in that he has goals to achieve and is more clever and circumspect in achieving them than canon. Viserys taking his son from him has shown Daemon consequences for his actions, it's not something he'll forget. Certainly not forgive. Aemon may bring up the dragons aspect at some point. Oh, if Daemon ever actually wished to go properly against Viserys then he was screwed. The funny thing is that for all his ambition, Daemon would never have usurped his brother, so that's still in his mind. And well here his son is to sit the Iron Throne at some point, so he's more at peace.

Dunk: So with Daemon, the big change is Aemon and it's tempered some of his worst impulses. Not all of them as you see, but some. How he went about the Stepstones was partly that. And yes, they do very much intend to hold it and Aemon is pretty much involved in seeing that's so. Hope you liked the Tourney, as for Ser Arthor, well Mushroom hints at how all is not as it seems. Aemon knows about Alicent and now Rhaenyra does too, but so far, they've not even whispered it around. So far anyway.

Threekerr: Thanks so much for saying that. For me, the relationship has to be clearly defined before you jump to the meat of the story and well we know the Dance is coming in some form, so we need to see what changes occur before then. With Aemon and Rhaenyra now being older, we'll see more cause and effect as they both can only do so much as children, but their relationship is key here as too is how Daemon is changed by having a son. The ripples will become bigger though, very soon. And big events are upcoming, big changes to certain canon points too. Which I hope people will enjoy.

Rhatch: Thanks so much, glad you liked it.

Dancouga: Maybe yes, but right now that's a forgotten and almost unvisited place, so if I want eyes on it, then it works better here.

Princess: As you command.

Anarra: So glad you liked it.

Spymaster: I'm so with you. The whole Alicent/Rhaenyra subplot is terribly handled IMO. Firstly by the aging up, I mean they have them basically the same age so they can push that plot point and subtext. As for GRRM, at times he is willing to sell his soul in order to push a story point, which he did with Alicent/Rhaenyra and also with Corlys. I mean, Tolkien, he's very much not.

More of what's going on with Aemon will be revealed as we go further, but not so much to Aemon, more so to us. So with the Stepstones, the two things I really want to explore is what would have happened had Daemon actually wished to keep them and if he had someone working politically/practically to help. Which he'll have in Aemon. Also, a possible other Dragon and Rider to bring to bear later on.

Irish Hermit: Well said. That's exactly what I was trying to put forward. Otto is using a valid argument regarding the cost of the war, but his motives are very much in question. Aemon/Daemon/Corlys can see though that once started it needs to be finished and even now, Viserys can see the benefit. Aemon because of his father has known what Otto was from when he was a young boy, so there is no illusion there, while yes, others keep their mouth closed as Otto wielded a lot of power. At the end of the day, Aemon is beginning to wield more and more too, both explicitly and implicitly as we see with the meeting in Flea Bottom.

Very true, the betrothal was the Good Queen's way of stopping a future conflict between Daemon/Viserys and a way to keep their House united. But it gives Rhaenyra an added legitimacy that she didn't have in canon. Being wed to Aemon, both being Dragonriders, allows for stability and promises much danger if you try and stop it from happening. Things will develop when Alicent's children get their own dragons, but Aemon is already taking steps to firm up support as we'll see with the Royal Procession to come. As for Daemon, the one thing that's kept him somewhat calm is knowing Aemon will be King beside Rhaenyra, the moment that's threatened, then whoever did so should beware.

Viserys here loves his Grandmother, and he can see how happy Rhaenyra and Aemon are, so while he may have gotten annoyed by Daemon's words, he'll not seek to break the betrothal. And that's without him even considering what would happen if he did so.

Xan Merrick: Well without spoiling things too much, my friend, let's just say that Aemon and Vermithor will be fighting long before the dance takes place.

Guest: So very glad to hear that.

JuanMartin: Muy contento de que lo estés disfrutando. Espero que Aemon/Rhaenyra sean una verdadera asociación, ese es mi objetivo con ellos. Ambos aportan ciertos activos a la mesa y espero mostrar eso a medida que avanzamos.

Alberto: Oh he's very much still dangerous and his maturity is only when it comes to Aemon's path.

Xeno: I'm so happy to hear that, glad you're liking it.

Guest: Really glad you're enjoying it.