King's Landing ― Fishmarket (Near the Mud Gate)…
Following the Battle of the Gullet, the 124 surviving ships of the Velaryon fleet entered the harbor for repairs and to resupply their stocks. The surviving battered and worn ships were docked haphazardly. Their sails were torn, and their decks were stained with the blood of fallen warriors. The air was heavy with the scent of saltwater and smoke, a testament to the fierce battle. Upon their arrival, the injured sailors, some barely clinging to life, were being tended to by the volunteer healers within the city and a few from the Red Keep, including Maester Alwyn, as they worked tirelessly attending to the wounded. At the same time, the City Watch worked to maintain order.
The girl, Nettles, did not share their celebrations. She had flown with the others, fought as bravely, burned and killed as they had, but her face was black with smoke and streaked with tears when she returned.
Upon hearing of the events, Queen Alicent swiftly quickened her pace to the bustling harbor. Her mind was consumed with worry for the safety of her children and the brave sailors who had fought bravely in the battle at sea. As the queen navigated through the crowded streets, a mix of anxiety and relief pulsed through her heart. The gathered people recognized Alicent's presence and respectfully made way for her, bowing their heads in reverence. Their actions served as a reminder of the weight of her responsibility and the respect she commanded as queen consort.
"Tend to the wounded. Do what you can for them."
From her vantage point, Queen Alicent's eyes fell upon her nephew, Prince Jacaerys, being pulled out of the water. The sight of him, drenched and disheveled, struck her to the core. His grief for losing Vermax was palpable, so overwhelming that Jace had to be physically restrained from diving back into the sea. Tears streamed down the dark-haired Velaryon's face, his sobs echoing through the air, a heartbreaking testament to the pain he felt. Lucerys, on the other hand, was feeling just as bad as his older brother.
"How many have been lost?"
"We're still tallying the losses, but so far, our official count is at least 4,000 men. As for our fleet, seventy-six ships were lost, twelve damaged beyond repair, and nine could return with a few weeks' work in a safe harbor. However, we also lost three dragons."
"Seven hells… that many? That's slightly more than a third of Driftmark's naval power."
"I'm told there was an incident between the king and Lord Corlys. Apparently, some of the Sea Snake's ships were caught in His Grace's dragon's crossfire, which blew some of them up. House Velaryon was not pleased. I'm told Lord Corlys confronted the king about it and threatened to withdraw his support, but His Grace yelled right back, threatened him with treason if he 'breaks a sworn oath to the crown like the rest of those malcontents.'"
"Treason? Has he gone mad?!"
"'If this be victory, I pray I never win another,' is what I recall the Sea Snake telling him. Ever since King Viserys passed and Prince Daeron was killed, I fear the Young Dragon's vengeful malice is progressively worsening."
"By the gods, I only hope Prince Jaehaerys can stitch the realm back together when he ascends the Iron Throne…"
"Shhh! Quiet! Someone might hear you!"
As she approached the harbor, Alicent scanned the scene. She spotted her children huddling together with their respective dragons, looking shaken but unharmed. She breathed a sigh of relief and approached them, happy at the sight of them alive. However, Alicent's attention was drawn to Aegon, who seemed disheartened, his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the ground; a disheartened expression had replaced his usually vibrant and confident demeanor. She longed to wrap her arms around him and offer him comfort, but she knew Aemma was already by his side, providing solace in her own gentle way. Yet the queen saw no sign of Corxes. "Oh, Aegon…" she murmured, concern etched on her face.
"Mother!" Aemma cried out.
Alicent embraced her daughter tightly, feeling the weight of the day's events lifts slightly. "Thank the gods," she whispered. She then turned to Aegon. "Aegon, are you―"
"He's gone, mother. Corxes, he's… he's dead," Aegon diverted his eyes, the thoughts of his dragon's death flashing before him. "The Triarchy… they killed him."
"I'm so sorry, Aegon."
"What do we do now?"
Alicent took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead. "We must assess the damage and tend to the wounded. And then we must plan our next move. Pray to the gods that the light of the Seven will guide us out of this hellish darkness. Where's your brothers, Viserys and Jaehaerys?" she asked.
"Viserys is over there with Jay," Aemma pointed in the opposite direction. "He risked his life to rescue Jace, so he's badly hurt."
"Two crossbow bolts to the chest and shoulder," Aegon explained. "Viserys is treating his wounds."
With a heavy heart, Queen Alicent acknowledged her son's and daughter's statements as truth and pushed aside her own feelings to focus on the task at hand. She would ensure that her children were safe, that the wounded were cared for, and that the fallen were honored. The weight of her responsibility settled upon her shoulders, but she stood tall to help navigate her subjects through the storm. Alicent found Viserys skillfully tending to Jaehaerys's injuries through an impromptu surgical procedure. The sight of her children working together, united in their efforts to protect and support each other, filled her with a mix of pride and anguish. She had always wanted nothing but the best for them, and now, in this moment of crisis, she saw them stepping up to the plate, taking on responsibilities beyond their years.
The antiseptic smell filled the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood.
Viserys had always been as meticulous as Jaehaerys and Aemma, a trait that had served him well in his studies of medicine. He had spent countless hours poring over ancient texts and learning from the maesters, honing his skills in the art of healing. And now, it was his eldest brother who needed his expertise.
After meticulously removing the crossbow bolts from Jaehaerys' pectoralis major and anterior deltoid, Viserys carefully sutured the skin and took extra precautions by cauterizing the wound – a necessary step to prevent any potential infections – before applying medicinal ointment-coated bandages. "Almost there, Jay. Just a bit more," he murmured, moistening his lips. As he worked, beads of sweat formed on his brow. With utmost care, the Targaryen prince fashioned a makeshift sling for Jaehaerys' left arm, ensuring its stability and support. The sling was a testament to Viserys' resourcefulness and ingenuity, a small way to make his brother more comfortable during the long road to recovery. Hmm, he'll need about a few weeks and some months for that arm to regain its full strength, maybe less with some light routine physical therapy. But I know you, brother. You're tougher than you let on. You'll be back on the field in no time. "There we go… all done." Stepping back, Viserys cleansed his blood-stained hands in a small basin. "Now, remember to take it easy on that arm and don't exert too much pressure on it, alright?" he cautioned, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"Mmm… Thanks, Viserys," Jaehaerys said, expressing his gratitude to his younger brother. The road to recovery would be long, but that didn't bother him. By his side, a somber list of fallen sailors revealed their names and backgrounds. Each name seemed to jump out at him, a painful reminder of the lives lost in service to House Targaryen.
Ser Rydan Tyde
Kober Bailer
Athen Seral
Ser Ruben Chandyll
Cryus Volmark
The list continued, but Jaehaerys knew most of these men on a first-name basis. He could recall each of their personal information, such as their namedays, notable achievements, marital statuses, the houses they were sworn to, and so on. But the one the Silver Dragon's eyes locked on was…
Addam of Hull
These were not just faceless casualties of war but men he had fought alongside, shared meals with, and laughed with. They had trusted him to lead them, and now they were gone. Addam… Addam of Hull had been one of his closest friends. And now, Addam was gone, a casualty of his father's ambitions. How could his father, the king, be so callous as to sacrifice the lives of his own people for his own gain? It was a betrayal that cut deep, and Jaehaerys vowed never to forget the sacrifice of his friends. But deep down, he knew he had been powerless to stop it. His father's plans had been set in motion long before Jaehaerys took command.
As he clenched his fist, Jaehaerys closed his eyes and took a deep breath, making a silent promise to his fallen friends. He would honor their memory by ensuring their sacrifices were not in vain. He would always carry their memory with him and fight for honor and justice in their name. He would fight for a better future, one where the lives of his men were not treated as mere pawns in a game of power. And as he looked out at the sea, Jaehaerys couldn't help but wonder how many more lives would be lost before the storm finally passed.
"Jay! Viserys!"
When Jaehaerys and Viserys looked up, their eyes met their mother, Queen Alicent, who was approaching them. A wave of relief washed over her face, and she was delighted that her sons were still alive. However, her keen eyes did not miss the surgical scars marring Jaehaerys' body, nor did she fail to notice the emotions reflected in their eyes. There was a mixture of resilience and vulnerability, a reflection of the horrors they had witnessed and the burdens they now carried. Alicent had always known her children to be strong, but this experience had tested them in ways she couldn't have imagined. Yet, she also knew they were no longer children to be sheltered. They had grown into strong, capable young men forged by the fires of adversity. It was a bittersweet moment for Alicent. But it wasn't just the physical scars that caught her attention. She could see the weight of their experiences etched in their expressions as she looked into her sons's eyes. She would do whatever it took to help them find their strength again, to help them overcome the scars, both seen and unseen.
"Mother," Viserys acknowledged.
"Mother," Jaehaerys rose to greet her.
"Oh, my boys…~" With a gentle touch, Alicent reached out to her sons, enveloping them in a warm embrace. At that moment, she silently promised them they would face the future together as a family. She would be their pillar of strength and unwavering support as they navigated the challenges ahead. As they stood there, locked in an embrace, the weight of their shared experiences began to lift. Queen Alicent's presence brought a sense of comfort and reassurance, reminding Jaehaerys and Viserys that they were not alone in their struggles.
However, amid their embrace, the queen remained oblivious to how tightly she held them.
"Ngh! Mother, that hurts."
Alicent abruptly opened her eyes as she realized how tightly she was holding on. The discomfort on Jaehaerys's face was evident as he winced in pain, his brows furrowing and his lips forming a grimace. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she immediately felt a pang of guilt wash over her. Her grip on him had been so tight, so desperate, that she had momentarily forgotten the delicate state he was in. Alicent immediately let go of her son, remembering that he had recently undergone surgery, and his left arm was in a sling. "Oh! O-Oh, I'm so sorry, Jay," she said apologetically. The queen had always been a fiercely protective mother to her children, but there was only so much she could do to ease her son's pain. She wished she could take away all his suffering and make him feel better, but Alicent knew that was impossible.
"It's… okay, mother. I know you didn't mean to."
"When I heard what happened… I feared the worst. Thank the Mother you all came back to me." Alicent turned to her third son. "Viserys, how bad was it out there?"
"We've lost three dragons, mother. Corxes, Arrax, and Vermax," Viserys explained. "Aegon, Jace, Luke, they're not taking it well."
"I see. So that explains why they were all upset."
"You misunderstand. The bond between us and our dragons runs deeper than that. Whatever each of us feels, the other does, too. But when one of us dies, it's like losing a piece of ourselves. You won't get it back, no matter what you do or how hard you try to fill the void. It can heal with time, but the scars will always remain beneath the surface."
Alicent listened closely to her son Viserys' explanation of the interdependent connection between Targaryens and their dragons, the profound bond they shared, and the distinctiveness of each individual dragon. She had grown up around dragons and had observed the unique relationship between Aeonar and Rhaenyra and their dragons, Vaelor and Syrax. They had been inseparable for many years. Alicent understood that if the bond between a dragon and its rider were strong enough, the dragon would fiercely defend and protect them with their lives. The bond between a Targaryen and their dragon was not only a source of strength and power but also a deep emotional connection. It was a bond that could bring great triumph but also heart-wrenching tragedy. The queen faintly recalled how mournful Vhagar was when she witnessed the deaths of Prince Baelon the Brave and Lady Laena Velaryon before her very eyes. With this newfound knowledge, she theorized that just as dragons mourn their riders' loss, a rider could also experience profound grief and sorrow when their dragons die.
"They will have to find new dragons in the Dragonpit to bond with to replace the ones they lost, but that can wait. We should give Jace, Luke, and Aegon the time and space needed to grieve," Jaehaerys reminded them. Despite considering their emotions after the deaths of Corxes, Vermax, and Arrax, Jaehaerys' expression turned serious as he contemplated the matter. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. Now that they were all together, the Silver Dragon believed it was crucial to inform their mother about the recent events that unfolded across the Narrow Sea, his mind racing with the weight of the information he was about to share. However, he couldn't help but feel apprehensive about crossing that line, knowing that there might be no turning back once he did. "Before anything else, mother, there is something else you should know." I'm sorry, father, but our mother has the right to know about what you just did. What you almost did.
"About what?"
"It's… about father," Viserys replied. Jay, you know father will not be pleased once he hears this. But you're my elder brother. I'll stand by you and your report. What happened with Aegon… is unacceptable. We already lost Daeron. We can't afford to lose another.
"Your father? Why? What did he do?" Alicent felt a surge of unease creeping up on her. The queen had always observed her sons keenly, and her instincts had rarely failed her. She had raised them to be honest and honorable young men and always trusted them implicitly. However, as Alicent watched Jaehaerys and Viserys discuss their father, she could sense there was more to the situation than they were letting on. What could have happened to Aeonar that warranted such a serious discussion? Had he fallen ill? Was he in danger? Or worse, had he betrayed their family in some way?
From start to finish, Jaehaerys and Viserys took their time meticulously recounting the events of the Battle of the Gullet to their mother. Despite the difficulty of selling out their own father, they couldn't overlook his actions or what he nearly tried to do. Alicent remained silent throughout, attentively absorbing every detail her sons shared. Eventually, they elucidated their father's new phase of merciless brutality, describing how he callously sacrificed the lives of his own men to secure victory against the remnants of the Triarchy. They also explained how he put their brother Aegon's life in jeopardy and stood idly by as their cousin Jacaerys came close to death during a daring rescue mission that resulted in Jaehaerys sustaining injuries. As they concluded their account, Alicent's eyes widened with horror. She stood there, utterly shocked and appalled by the extent of Aeonar's actions.
"He did WHAT?!"
Jaehaerys and Viserys could see the turmoil in their mother's eyes as she struggled to come to terms with the reality of what had transpired. They knew that it was not easy for her to hear such damning accusations against her husband, but they also knew that she needed to understand the gravity of the situation.
Alicent remained silent for a few moments, lost in thought. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I can't believe it," she said, her eyes still wide with shock. With her hand covering her mouth, the queen struggled to comprehend her sons' words, revealing how Aeonar had endangered their son Aegon's life during the battle. His actions had shattered the image of the man she once knew, leaving her feeling hurt, betrayed, and confused. As the weight of the news settled upon her, Alicent's mind raced with questions. How could Aeonar, a man she had loved and trusted since they were children, have allowed his desire for revenge to cloud his judgment? Why? Aeonar, how could you? We already lost one of our boys. How could you do this to our family?! She expressed her disappointment that Aeonar had forsaken honor and loyalty in his ruthless pursuit of vengeance. He had become consumed by his insanity, blinded to the consequences of his actions.
Jaehaerys placed his hand on the queen's shoulder; his touch conveyed empathy and understanding. He could see the pain etched on her face, the weight of the truth she was grappling with. "I understand that it's difficult to process, mother, and it's even harder for us to say it. But it's the truth," he consoled her. "The House of the Dragon has a sickness in it – one that has plagued us for generations. It's a cycle that existed times beyond counting. Our father has lost sight of what truly matters in his pursuit of avenging Daeron's murder. It's led him astray, consumed by his desire for revenge. We cannot allow this sickness to consume our family any further. We must find a way to bring our father back and remind him of what's truly important in life – the familial bond that once bound us together. If we don't, we may lose the man we once knew forever."
The Targaryen madness… Alicent was familiar with her son's reference. She recalled the characteristics of House Targaryen's bloodline that Aeonar had shared with her over two decades ago. She remembered how he had warned her about the potential for madness that ran in their bloodline, a trait that had plagued many Targaryens before. However, despite this knowledge, her husband still succumbed to madness himself. It was a gradual descent, fueled by external factors and unexpected events that seemed to conspire against him.
In retrospect, Alicent believed that her late mother-in-law's death had been the catalyst for Aeonar's decline. The loss of a loved one had shaken him to his core, and he had never fully recovered from the grief. As time passed, those who betrayed and wronged him – intentional or not – further eroded his sanity. The whispers of courtiers, the political machinations, and the constant power struggles all took their toll on his mind. Yet Alicent could only do nothing but watch helplessly as her husband's once bright spirit was slowly extinguished over the years. And then came the unthinkable - the murder of their youngest son at Aemond's hands. It was a tragedy that shook their family to its core, but for Aeonar, it was the final blow that shattered him completely. The loss of a child was a pain no parent should ever have to endure, and it was the grief and anger that pushed him beyond the breaking point. The light in Aeoinar's eyes faded away, replaced by a darkness that consumed him.
In the midst of this turmoil, Alicent felt a sense of helplessness. Once united and strong, her family was now being torn apart from within. But the queen found solace and strength in the determination she saw in Jaehaerys' and Viserys' eyes. Despite all Aeonar had done, they refused to give up on their father, believing there was still good in him.
So, Alicent knew she had no choice but to persist in her efforts and fight for her family and the future of House Targaryen. If her children believed their father could be saved, then she had to keep trying. She would seek out every possible solution, consult with the most knowledgeable healers and scholars, and explore any avenue that could bring her husband back from the darkness that consumed him until she had exhausted every option. For, in the end, it was love that drove Alicent's resolve. Love for her husband, love for her children, and love for the family they had built together. And with that love as her guiding light, she would face the challenges ahead, no matter how daunting they may seem.
"Don't worry about your father. I'll do everything I can to make him see reason and the error of his ways. But until then, I recommend you keep a low profile; the same goes for your brother and sister, too."
"Be careful, mother," Viserys advised.
Alicent gently caressed her son's cheek; her touch conveyed the deep love and tenderness that only a mother could possess for her child. She remembered the days when her children were young and innocent when they would play in the gardens of the Red Keep, and she would watch over them with a mother's love. Viserys was sixteen, on the cusp of his seventeenth nameday in a few months, and stood before her as a young man, no longer a child needing constant guidance. The realization struck Alicent like a bolt of lightning, reminding her that her children were now young adults. With her determination rekindled, Alicent made her way back to the Red Keep to confront Aeonar, armed with the information she had obtained from their sons. Accompanied by the guardsmen of House Hightower, the queen's presence seemed to fade into the background, blending seamlessly with the sea of faces surrounding her. Now, a mere speck in the crowd, the queen prepared herself for the confrontation ahead.
"If it were anyone else, father would've killed you for this, Jay," Viserys told his brother.
Jaehaerys stood tall, exuding an air of composure and forbearance that seemed to envelop him like a regal cloak, as he believed otherwise. "Perhaps, but our father is no fool either. He may have flaws as does anyone else, but even he understands that he needs us – his heirs – more than we need him." He turned to his younger brother, who listened intently as he spoke. "'The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided,'" he quoted, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "These are the words our grandfather imparted to us that night at the last supper, Viserys. He knew the importance of unity, a united family standing together against any who might seek to harm us. Even if our father is beyond saving, the task of bringing peace and unity back to this realm falls to us. We didn't ask for this. It won't be easy, but it is our duty. Great or small, we must do our duty for the greater good."
"You're our brother, Jaehaerys. You know you have our support when we bring an end to this meaningless civil war. I only hope we don't lose more than we could gain."
"When sown on fertile ground, a nurtured seed will bear a bountiful harvest."
As they watched the bustling activity in the square, Jaehaerys and Viserys knew that the fate of the Targaryen dynasty rested on their shoulders. They were determined to do whatever it took to protect their loved ones and ensure their continued reign. The Velaryon fleet was busy replenishing its supplies and mending damaged ships, a testament to their unwavering resilience. The injured sailors, who had bravely fought alongside their kin, now received care from the kind-hearted healers who had selflessly volunteered their services, their gentle touch offering solace and comfort to those in need.
But amidst the bustling activity, their attention soon shifted to their family. Their aunt Rhaenyra stood tall and resolute, her silver hair cascading down her back as she surveyed the scene before her. Beside her stood their cousins Jacaerys and Lucerys, who were still mourning the loss of their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Their brother Aegon, who, despite losing Corxes, would rise again as one of House Targaryen's best champions. And then there was their sister Aemma, a gentle soul with a fierce spirit, her presence a reminder of the love and unity that bound their family together. The future may have been filled with uncertainties, with the fate of their family and the realm hanging in the balance, but as long as they had one another, they refused to lose hope. They knew their family bond was unbreakable, and this unyielding support would carry them through the darkest times. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, drawing strength from each other and the legacy of their ancestors. The blood of Old Valyria flowed through their veins, and they would not falter in the face of adversity. With their united front, they would fight for justice and a future where peace and prosperity reigned once again.
Before long, they noticed four senior agents of the Lykirī Mēre approaching them. Their silver cloaks, intricately adorned with grey embroidery, shimmered in the sunlight, catching the eye of all who crossed their path. The hoods that concealed their faces added an air of mystery and secrecy. Their eyes, however, gleamed with a sharpness that betrayed their old age, a glint of wisdom and danger that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to cross their path. But it was not just their attire that set them apart; it was how they carried themselves. Each agent firmly grasped a steel bo staff, a weapon that symbolized their authority and skill. It was as if the staves were mere extensions of their own bodies, an extension of their very souls. Their movements were precise and calculated with every step, showcasing their agility and grace. It was clear that these individuals were not to be trifled with.
Despite their advanced age, these elders were far from feeble. Their bodies were honed to perfection, their muscles taut and strong. They moved with a swiftness and agility that defied their years, their reflexes sharp and lightning-fast. It was clear that age only enhanced their abilities, making them even more formidable opponents. They had honed their skills over years of training, mastering the art of combat and assassination. Their reputation as the Lykirī Mēre's deadliest and most dangerous assassins preceded them, and they were known to be second only to the grandmaster himself in terms of their prowess.
Jaehaerys stood among them, wearing the same robes as his older compatriots. However, he was not born into this elite group; he had earned his place amongst them through years of arduous training. Under these senior agents' guidance, Jaehaerys endured countless trials and tribulations marked by blood, sweat, and pain. Through his unwavering determination and sheer force of will, he had risen through the ranks of the Lykirī Mēre, gaining the respect of his peers. They had molded him into the lethal weapon he had become.
These senior agents's presence hinted at an impending matter of great significance. Their arrival signaled that something of utmost importance was about to unfold. Whether it was a dangerous mission, a critical decision, or a threat to the Lykirī Mēre, their presence alone spoke volumes. The four Lykirī Mēre senior agents were not ones to be summoned lightly, and their involvement in any matter meant that the stakes were high.
"Dārilaros Jāhayress Targārien. (Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen.)" one of them spoke.
"Iksan, tōmo. (I am, elders.)" Jaehaerys replied.
"Imāzitan tosh īlva. (Come with us.)"
"Skorȳso? Skorion massitas? (Why? What happened?)"
"Majis. (Come.)" another said sternly.
Jaehaerys and Viserys exchanged glances, their expressions filled with curiosity and uncertainty. The Lykirī Mēre elders stood before them, their insistence palpable, yet they did not explain why they needed Jaehaerys. It was clear that they wanted him to follow them, but Viserys, ever protective of his brother, was adamant that Jaehaerys needed rest to recover from his injuries. With neither party willing to back down, a compromise was eventually reached: Jaehaerys would go with the elders, but Viserys would also accompany them as a precautionary measure in case of any medical emergencies. However, instead of taking the usual route back to the Red Keep through the Mud Gate, the Targaryen princes were led into a hidden passage within the underground network directly beneath the castle.
"Where do you think they're taking us?" Viserys whispered.
"I don't know," Jaehaerys shook his head. "But something tells me we're about to find out."
Red Keep ― Underground chamber…
As they made their way through the dark and damp tunnels, Viserys couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He had never been down here before, and the thought of being trapped in such a confined space made him feel claustrophobic. His hand rested on the tilt of his sword as they walked. Jaehaerys, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by their surroundings. The torchlight flickered against the damp stone walls, casting eerie shadows that danced around them. The air grew colder and more musty with each step they took, heightening their senses and adding to the mystery of their destination.
As they ventured deeper into the underground network, the passage began to widen, revealing a hidden chamber bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. The walls were adorned with ancient tapestries depicting long-forgotten tales of the Lykirī Mēre. The dilapidated bridges resembled ancient Valyrian architecture over an underground lake, barely remaining upright as stones crumbled into the abyssal depths below. As they reached the bridge, Jaehaerys and Viserys stood on a platform overlooking a vast underground lake. The water shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence, casting an enchanting glow on the surrounding stalactites and stalagmites. It was a sight that seemed straight out of a dream, a place where reality and fantasy intertwined.
But amidst the beauty, danger lurked.
The aqueducts connecting the platforms were worn and weathered, their Valyrian craftsmanship showing signs of decay. Peering downwards, the darkness appeared infinite. Bearing this in mind, Jaehaerys and Viserys concentrated on maintaining their equilibrium, ensuring they didn't lose their footing and plummet into the unknown. They proceeded cautiously, mindful of the bridge's uncertain stability beneath their weight. The sound reverberated through the chamber, a constant reminder of the precariousness of their situation.
"Urnēbis dekuragon… (Watch your step…)" Jaehaerys cautioned in a whisper.
The Targaryen princes held their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests, as they focused on maintaining their balance and not succumbing to the allure of the unknown depths. As they continued their journey, the chamber seemed to stretch endlessly, the darkness below becoming even more foreboding. The brothers exchanged glances, silently reassuring each other of their determination to press forward. They knew that the answers they sought lay somewhere within this labyrinth. Utilizing their skills as trained assassins, Jaehaerys and Viserys gracefully maneuvered from pillar to pillar, leaping from one area to another as they followed the Lykirī Mēre elders. Gliding along polished railings, they effortlessly landed in one of the central chambers.
"What's that? It looks like a shrine dedicated to the Old Gods of Valyria," Viserys carefully observed their surroundings.
"Not quite. It almost bears a striking resemblance to the Vestrion." Jaehaerys took in as many intricate details of the ancient architecture before him. Grandfather would have loved this place. He traced his fingers along the delicate carvings. The patterns seemed to tell a story, a tale of a forgotten era that had long since faded into the annals of history. "We must be somewhere near what seems like… a Bōjurlion or something close to one." A colossal statue stood in the center of the chamber, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. With each passing moment, the room revealed more of its secrets. Ancient relics and artifacts adorned the walls. "But why here? What could be down here?"
"This is Lord Aenar's attempt to recreate the Anogrion, hidden beneath the surface on the mainland," one of the Lykirī Mēre elders explained, switching to Common Tongue. "It is one of the last best-kept secrets of Old Valyria's craft before the Doom."
"The Anogrion… it's where Valyria's bloodmages practiced their craft."
"Your knowledge runs deep, young one. Indeed, although there was overlap between the blood and fire magic practitioners, not all came from the Freehold's dragonlord families. However, to maintain their supremacy, the dragonlords not only ruled the world but also used their mages to gain power within their inner circles to gain an advantage over their rivals. They meticulously refined their traits, weed out the undesirable, and promoted the worthy." The elder retrieved an old book from a nearby shelf, its pages yellowed with age and filled with intricate symbols and ancient High Valyrian runic texts. He opened it carefully, as if handling a fragile relic, and began to read from its pages. "After the Doom destroyed Valyria, many of us were scattered to the winds. Our numbers dwindled over the centuries until your father found us and gave us a new home in this… backwater wastrel."
"Call it what you will, but Valyria is gone. Westeros is our home now," Viserys pointed out.
"So you say, young Viserys," one of the female elders pointed out. "But without knowing your family's history, much of Valyria's legacy would have been lost forever. Like your father, we treasure our past and preserve what we can salvage from the ruins of Valyria. Our priests diligently maintain records of our blood mages, employing them solely when the need arises."
"You mean you… knowingly practice blood magic? In secrecy? That's utterly repulsive! Immoral!"
"But why here, of all places?" Jaehaerys pressed.
"The last grandmaster, Azdez mo Dharozn, made this inner sanctum one of our primary places of refuge. The other lay beneath Dragonstone. His successor, your father, gave us the resources we need to carry out his will." The elderly individual's voice was low and raspy yet filled with a sense of authority that commanded attention. He spoke with a wisdom that only came with age, and his words were laced with a hint of mystery. As he closed the aged book, the leather cover creaking echoed through the chamber.
The priests, dressed in long robes of deep red, gathered around the Lykirī Mēre elder, their eyes fixed on him with reverence. The chamber was dimly lit, with only a few torches flickering on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the sound of chanting filled the room, adding to the mystical atmosphere. The intricate red carvings on the floor were mesmerizing, with their intricate patterns and symbols. Jaehaerys and Viserys had never seen anything like it before. As they tried to decipher the markings, they realized they could only understand a small portion of it. The rest of the runes were written in an ancient dialect of High Valyrian that was utterly foreign to them.
"Once Valyria's noble families learned to tap into this power, they instructed their mages to apply the method to their dragons, accelerating their growth rate and power in a short span of time."
"Wha…?" Viserys blinked.
It suddenly dawned on Jaehaerys that this revelation could potentially explain the rapid growth of their father's dragon, Vaelor, within just a few short years. Typically, it would take a juvenile dragon several decades, if not close to a century, to naturally reach such a size. He had spent countless hours studying the ancient texts and scrolls that detailed the exploits of the Targaryen dragons, their lineage, and their otherworldly abilities. But it wasn't until now, as he connected the dots and pieced together the puzzle, that he truly understood the significance of Vaelor's growth acceleration.
The tales of Balerion the Black Dread had always captivated Jaehaerys. According to legend, with his black scales and fiery breath, Balerion was the last dragon to witness the glory of Old Valyria before its cataclysmic downfall. But it was the blood magic experiments that had been performed on him that truly set him apart from all other dragons. The blood magic experiments had been conducted on Balerion, causing him to grow to an unprecedented size and become the largest Targaryen dragon in history. And it was during the Century of Blood era that Vhagar laid an egg within the Dragonmont. This egg, the result of the union between two dragons, held immense potential.
But fate had a different plan for the egg. It remained unhatched for nearly a century, forgotten and abandoned. Time took its toll, turning the once vibrant shell into a lifeless stone. It seemed as though the legacy of Vhagar and Balerion had come to an end. That is, until their paternal great-grandfather, Prince Baelon Targaryen, stumbled upon the stone egg on Dragonstone. Recognizing its significance, he carefully retrieved it and placed it beside Aeonar's cradle when he was born. The magic within the egg responded to the presence of the newborn Targaryen prince, and it hatched, revealing a dragon unlike any other. Vaelor, as the dragon was named, was a marvel to behold. His growth was already impressive, but during Aeonar's self-imposed exile across the Narrow Sea, Vaelor began to flourish. The dragon's growth was accelerated, surpassing all expectations. It was as if the magic within him was fueled by their journey and experiences in foreign lands.
As Jaehaerys pondered these revelations, he couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and trepidation. Vaelor's unprecedented growth meant he was quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with and could potentially one day surpass even Balerion in size and power. The implications of this were staggering. House Targaryen had a long history of using their dragons to enforce their rule. Still, they were also forced to witness the devastating consequences of unchecked power in the ongoing Dance of the Dragons, and the idea that they could control such beasts was merely an illusion.
"However, there are other methods to such magic," another elder mentions.
"What we call blood magic and what those Westerosi barbarians consider blood magic are two different things. It isn't inherently dangerous if it's permitted. Using your own blood or that of a willing participant harms no one. With a fire and blood ritual, not only do the dragonlords and their descendants gain a significant edge over their rivals, but it can also heal life-threatening or near-crippling wounds."
"Jay," Viserys said, suddenly apprehensive. "I don't know about this…"
"I agree," Jaehaerys said.
"It is the grandmaster's will. He will not accept one of his flesh and blood being taken out of the fight against those seeking to usurp his throne."
Without warning, senior Lykirī Mēre swiftly grabbed Viserys from behind, taking him by surprise. Restraining his arms and legs, he fought fiercely against their grip. "Ngh! Irūdan jika! Jigagho mazilīptan! (Let go! Put me down!)"
"Viserys!" Jaehaerys swiftly turned around.
The Valyrian high priests, practitioners of ancient sorcery from a bygone era, began chanting incantations in the archaic language of High Valyrian. While they fervently prayed, the mystical symbols etched on the ground radiated a luminous glow. In a matter of moments, one of the priests' life force drained from their body, materializing as a crimson mist suspended in the air, as their lifeless form collapsed to the ground. The atmosphere surrounding them exuded an overwhelming aura of both power and foreboding.
"Jay! Jaehaerys! Get out of there!"
As the blood essence swirled and frothed in the atmosphere, it abruptly surged toward Jaehaerys, enveloping him in a reddish aura. In an instant, excruciating agony seized the prince's entire being, commencing with an intense pain that gripped his head and constricted his throat. "Agh! Ngh! Aahhhh! Aaaackk!" he gasped, wrapping his hands around his throat. Seven hells, the pain was unbearable! Stop! STOP IT! IT HURTS! PLEASE, STOOOP! His vision blurred, and his ears filled with a cacophony of voices, both ancient and otherworldly. The pain intensified, coursing through his veins like molten lava, as if every fiber of his being was being torn apart and reassembled anew.
"Irūdan nykēlajika! Jāeltan Jāhayress baelza! (Let me go! Jaehaerys needs help!)" Viserys shouted, voicing his concerns for his brother. Although he kept up the fierce struggle against the Lykirī Mēre elders' grip, they were too powerful for the Targaryen prince to break free. "Jāhayress! (Jaehaerys!)"
"RAAAH!" Jaehaerys writhed on the ground as the crimson mist continued to swirl around him, its ethereal tendrils seeping into his very soul. "N-OOOHHH!" He felt as though his body was being ripped apart from the inside, and he struggled to maintain consciousness. The Valyrian high priests continued their incantations, their voices rising in intensity as they poured more and more of their life force into the ritual. The symbols on the ground glowed brighter and brighter until they were almost blinding in their intensity.
As the torment reached its peak, Jaehaerys felt something surge through him, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It coursed through his veins, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. Once a deep shade of violet, his eyes now glowed with an intense, otherworldly bright red. But as the pain subsided, Jaehaerys suddenly passed out. The crimson mist, once swirling around him, now dissipated into the air, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.
He couldn't tell how long time had passed, only that he faintly heard his brother's shouts.
"…ay… Jay…! Jaehaerys! …ke up…! Come on, brother! Please wake up!"
Jaehaerys gasped for air, and his eyes snapped open at Viserys standing over him, his head in his brother's palm. The red hue in his eyes dissipated, and the violet coloring had returned to his eyes.
"Jay! Oh, thank the gods!" Viserys breathed a sigh of relief.
The pain faded away, replaced by a sense of euphoria. Yet, for some reason, Jaehaerys felt… great. Better, even. His pectoralis major and anterior deltoid, once weakened and battered by Triarchy crossbow bolts, had recovered, leaving only a noticeable scar on his chest as a reminder of the pain he had endured. However, Jaehaerys felt something was different about him. It was as if his Valyrian blood was on fire. He felt something was wrong. Looking up at the Lykirī Mēre elders, Jaehaerys slowly rose to his feet, trying to steady himself. "Skorion… Shkorion gōntan gaomā ao naejot? (What… What did you do to me?)" he asked them.
"Īlon giēñilare. (We healed you.)" they explained.
"Skoro syt? (But why me?)"
"Kesrio syt… Kivio Dārilaros issi. (Because you… are The Prince That Was Promised.)"
Chapter End
Author's Note: As we return to King's Landing, we begin seeing the aftermath of those who survived and their thoughts on the matter regarding their king, Aeonar Targaryen. Apparently there has been a fallout between Aeonar and Corlys, with one threatening to withdraw support only to be met with accusations of treason. The Targaryen children on the other hand, are having a hard time coping with the loss of their dragons. Seems Jaehaerys and Viserys told Alicent what happened and she was NOT happy! While she goes to confront Aeonar, Jaehaerys and Viserys are met with the Lykirī Mēre's most highly skilled and most dangerous assassins who brought them into an underground cave. After a brief history lesson, some blood magic has been used to restore Jaehaerys's left arm back to full strength. But overall, he felt they dabbled in forbidden magic and was morally repulsed by it. What are your thoughts? Because this is a long one.
LordDarkness89: thanks for the chapter. for a second I thought we're going to get the white walker arc
C.E.W: Consequences from the Battle of the Gullet have arrived, Aegon the Younger, Jacaerys and Lucerys are in mourning over the loss of their dragons. Corlys Velaryon is angry at Aeonar for destroying Velaryon ships in his efforts to wipe out the Triarchy. Corlys has already threaten to withdraw his support, and Aeonar accusing him of treason. Alicent has learned how Aeonar put their son Aegon and nephew Jacaerys' lives in danger and is now confronting him.
Jaehaerys was healed, by the Lykiri Mere's senior members with forbidden magic no less. Also learning how Vaelor had been growing at an accelerated rate than normal dragon growth. Unnatural and dangerous, which Jaehaerys worries about.
Aeonar is losing his family, ever since his mother died he had begun to lose sight of the value of the family. He resented his father for his mother's death for twenty years, he started cutting his sister Rhaenyra off. He never bothered to bond with his siblings Aemond and Helaena which kept them more on the Caltrops side. Now after his son Daeron's death, it is far worse, he seems to have little to no regard for his children's lives, or those who support, or even the well being of the realm which he at least had before Daeron's death. Worse of all, even Alicent can't bring him back at the current moment.
Questions:
When Baela's pregnancy is announced, will that help keep Corlys on the Blacks' side?
―Yes
So I take it the senior Lykiri members keeping Jaehaerys in good health, they see him as important for the future? Not only would he be an improvement on his father as king, but through his bloodline comes the Prince that was Promised. They had no way of knowing Baela is pregnant so they had to be sure.
―Yes they do
What ever happened to Visenya's medallion that Aeonar gave Laena? Does Rhaena have it?
―Yes, she does
dragon riders can bond with other dragons even when their's are killed?
―Not sure. No one has ever tried
When Alicent goes to confront Aeonar, I take she'll be like 'Since when do you forsake your own children?' given that he endangered Aegon the Younger's life?
―Yes
Has the army of the Vale arrived in the Stormlands?
―Yes
XavierWright: Oh boy. Alicent is going to confront Aeonar.
Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to be good for her health...?
I often wonder, do Lucerys and Jace wish their Father was still here? (Whether it be Laenor or Harwin) Maybe if Laenor were still here, he could've trained the boys better in combat.
randomdude24: Well the backlash of the battle went about how I expected. Aeonar is becoming more and more like Maegor, the very thing he feared. In short he's become the very thing he swore to destroy. The fact he can't see the monster he's become shows how far gone he really is.
Coryls threatening to withdraw all support is bold, but who can blame him he's lost so much, the only plus side is his granddaughter might be queen one day.
Jay is consistently being challenged. The death of his friend Addam of Hull is only the beginning, I fear. No surprise people would push him to ascend the throne his father is too consumed with vengeance to see reason.
Questions,
So how exactly do the rest of Aeonar and Alicent children feel about their father? Do they feel he's too far gone or hold on to the hope he's still there?
―They're trying their best to hold on, but it gets more challenging the more he goes
Why exactly are the Lykiri Mere interested in Jay? Have they lost faith in their Grand Master?
―He's their grandmaster's eldest son and one of the highest-ranking assassins of their order. But no, they're blindly loyal to Aeonar
What exactly happened to Jay? I know very little about magic in this world or at least your version
―Not much is known about Valyrian blood magic, only that this one was used to fully heal Jaehaerys's chest muscles and improve his physique so he can get back in the fight right away
What leads the Lykiri Mere to believe Jay is the Prince that was Promised? I think prophecies in this world are both extremely dangerous and foolish
―What they said is meant as an interpretation that "The Prince Who Was Promised" prophecy will come from Jaehaerys's line