The Princess and the Queen 8: Daeron I
The harsh winds pulled Daeron's hair back and tugged at his clothing. His hair was wet from the clouds, and he felt short of breath. Sitting on the saddle for so long ached his body, and the straps chafed at his chest and stomach. His hands hurt from gripping the steel handles, and his head hurt from all the sudden movements.
Overall, Daeron couldn't love it more.
I remember when I was terrified of riding Tessarion... I was such a little child back then!
His mother had finally allowed him to complete the customary Targaryen flight from King's Landing to Dragonstone, and Daeron would savour every second of it. He was accustomed to riding Tessarion around, but that was within the confines of the Dragonpit. Whilst flying around in the Dragonpit, he wasn't able to soar above into the clouds or dive down and sail back up inches before hitting the ocean. Now, he could, and now he felt untouchable, flying above the entire world.
I just wish I could fly with Mother.
When Daeron's mother rode Vhagar for the first time, she promised that one day she, Daeron, and Baela would fly together on their own dragons.
"When you and Baela, along with your dragons, are bigger, we can go on flights to wherever you want!" she told him, that time when they visited Driftmark.
"To the Wall or Oldtown or Volantis?" Daeron exclaimed, and his mother nodded with a massive smile.
That day never came, because when Tessarion was finally large enough to be mounted by Daeron, his mother could only ride Vhagar at certain times. When Daeron asked his father why, he calmly explained to him that it was because Vhagar was a really old dragon and could handle long flights. After that, Daeron asked his mother that the day she was allowed to ride Vhagar, he would mount Tessarion, and they could fly to Driftmark together. But then Daeron's father said that Tessarion was still not large enough to fly outside the Dragonpit.
I remember in the histories that Targaryens used to ride their dragons anywhere before there even was a Dragonpit!
Daeron then said this to his father, but he countered by declaring that he was older and knew better. Before long, Vhagar died of old age, and Daeron's dreams of riding a dragon with his mother were gone.
Maybe when Moondancer is older, Baela and I can ride our dragons together... and even with Baelon and Sunfyre... and even when Aemon and Vaegon and Valaena and Joffrey become older too and have their own dragons! And, of course, Rhaenyra and Syrax!
He was so distracted by the idea, a flock of birds almost flew into him. Tessarion yelped and let out a spit of cobalt flame before ducking out of the way of the block.
I must concentrate... Mother said that riding a dragon is no easy feat.
Eventually, Daeron flew and flew and flew, until the clouds cleared off in the distance, and an island became visible. The island had steam rising out of it, and in the centre was a massive castle shaped like a grey dragon resting.
Dragonstone!
Daeron pulled Tessarion's handle and shouted a command the dragonkeeper taught him, and the dragon descended. She circled around the island twice before flying over a patch of grass that was empty save for a giant red dragon that sat there, along with a woman in silver armour standing next to it. The dragon was large, much bigger than Tessarion was. It looked just as magnificent, with scarlet and copper horns, and bright pink membranes on its wing.
Grandmother and Meleys!
As Daeron neared the landing area, his grandmother's face became clearer. Her hair was white and black, and her armour looked like the scales of a dragon. She waved at Daeron, who waved back momentarily before tightly gripping onto Tessarion's handles once again. Tessarion then landed and bowed her neck to allow Daeron to disembark. Whilst he undid his straps, Tessarion and Meleys both growled happily, as if they were old friends greeting each other once again.
Didn't Grandmother tell me that Tessarion's egg was from Meleys clutch... that means Tessarion is greeting her mother!
He hopped off the dragon and ran up to his grandmother. She embraced him in her warm arms and hugged him tightly. Upon letting go, her pale lilac eyes shone in the afternoon sunlight, and her mouth smiled a smile bigger than Daeron ever remembered.
Her own mother passed not long ago... it is good to see Grandmother so happy!
"You made the flight, dear!" His grandmother exclaimed as Daeron nodded his head like an excited pup. "How did you fare?"
"It was amazing!" Daeron replied. "There were birds, and everything below was so tiny... I want to do it again!"
"Again?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You must be tired... it was a long flight from the city, was it not?"
"Yes... but it was so fun!" he said, jumping up and down.
"I think you should set flight again tomorrow, and spend the evening here at Dragonstone, dear," she replied, taking him by the hand. "Even if you feel that you can make the flight now... you would arrive back in King's Landing at night, and what if you fall asleep whilst riding Tessarion?"
"That won't happen! You're being silly, grandmother!"
"Am I? It is better to fly tomorrow... that way, you shall enjoy it more!"
"Hmm... maybe I will!" Daeron replied, going with his grandmother to the castle.
"Good lad," she replied, stroking his hair with her soft palms.
Daeron looked back at Tessarion and Meleys. Both dragons had retaken flight, dancing in the skies together whilst letting out blasts of red and blue flames and roaring as one.
"How was your flight to Dragonstone when you were younger, grandmother?" he eagerly asked.
"Oh, well, dear... it was so long ago now..." she smiled. "Meleys was not as big as she is now... she was similar to the size of Tessarion now... but it was fun. The Cannibal was even roaming the skies when I arrived."
"The Cannibal?!" Daeron gasped, his eyes widening. "That would have been terrifying!"
She raised her eyebrows and grinned. "Yes... I was still young back then, only a girl of ten-and-three... so I was scared for my life. Luckily, Meleys is one of the swiftest dragons there is and easily outpaced the Cannibal. And my father was there, too. Caraxes' presence scared away the big black dragon," she said, frowning slightly.
"He was called Aemon, too, wasn't he?"
"Yes, just like your baby brother."
Daeron thought about his grandmother's frown and grabbed onto her hand again.
"I'm sorry about your mother, grandmother..." he gently said to her. "I wish I did get to meet her..."
"Oh, Daeron..." she replied, picking him up and giving him a wet kiss on the cheeks before letting him down. "You are a sweet boy."
"I hope you are now happier, grandmother," Daeron said, hugging her.
"Thank you, dear. I am now... thanks to you," she said, a small tear falling down her cheek.
"When are you going to come back to King's Landing, again? It's nice there... with Mother and Grandfather and Uncle Laenor and Rhaenyra and Baela and Aemon and everyone there..." he asked.
"I shall come back with you tomorrow, dear," she replied, giving him another small kiss on the forehead.
They walked back to the castle together, passing by the enormous rocks and steam erupting from the ground. Two Valyrian dragonkeepers stopped and bowed to them as they passed. It was a short walk to the castle, passing by gargoyles and statues of dragon fangs, dragon teeth, and dragon heads. They walked across the stone bridge leading to the gates of the castle. There, it was the foggiest from anywhere on the island. Daeron sniffed the thick air around him. It smelt of eggs for some reason.
"Why does it smell a bit eggy?" Daeron asked.
"The volcanoes make it smell like that," his grandmother gently replied as they passed through a dragon's mouth into the castle proper.
"The smell makes me want eggs to break my fast."
"You can have as many eggs as you want, dear," she said, putting her arms around his shoulder.
Daeron then had as many eggs as he could to break his fast. He could only manage two, along with blood sausage, fried peppers, and sour bread, until his stomach was so big he thought he would explode. For the remainder of the day, Daeron took to enjoying the vast library of Dragonstone. Here, they had books so rare the only copy was here. Many of them were printed in Valyrian, and some were originally printed in Old Valyria before the Doom. After that, he practised some of his Valyrian tongue with the dragonkeepers, and then spent the remainder of the day talking to his grandmother about the past few years and old stories of her past. She told Daeron about her grand wedding with his grandfather, as well as all of the different places she had visited.
He ended up loving the time so much, he spent another week with her on Dragonstone. They rode together on their dragons, which was the next best thing after riding with his mother. They flew so far into the Narrow Sea, they thought it was in the middle of nowhere, and then they flew back to Driftmark and spent a day there. Daeron didn't enjoy the lobster they had for lunch, but he certainly did enjoy the company of Ser Vaemond. After that, Ser Vaemond's son, also named Daeron, took them on a tour of Spicetown, and Rogar Velaryon showed him the grand Velaryon fleet, which Daeron very much misliked.
"I still hate boats," Daeron muttered as Rogar Velaryon took them aboard Driftmark's flagship.
"My prince, surely the back of a dragon is much scarier than the deck of a boat," Rogar Velaryon laughed, before safely escorting Daeron off the ship.
After Daeron's week with his grandmother, it was finally time to return home. She said that she would stay on Dragonstone for another week because she had some important matters to speak about with the dragonkeepers.
"I thought you said you were coming back to the city," Daeron said sadly.
"I shall, dear, but Meleys may lay an egg in the coming weeks if she remains put in the Dragonmont, as per the dragonkeepers... if so, little Aemon shall have an egg for his cradle," she warmly said, rubbing his shoulders.
"Very well, grandmother..." he replied. "Bring an egg for my brother, then!"
She smiled and embraced him for a long while before he went on his way. Daeron also said goodbyes to all of the dragonkeepers and castle servants. Ser Alfred Broome, of the guards, even handed him a candied apple from the kitchens, which Daeron quickly wolfed down before departing.
As he walked up to Tessarion to leave again for King's Landing, Tessarion roared happily at him. Daeron gave the she-dragon a small pat on her scaly neck before climbing on. Just before he took flight, he waved at his grandmother one last time.
"Sōvegon, Tessarion!" Daeron commanded.
Fly, Tessarion!
The cobalt and copper dragon flapped her wings and left Dragonstone. Eventually, the volcanic island was out of sight, and all Daeron could see for thousands and thousands of miles was the empty sea.
Flying back to King's Landing was much less daunting, and the skies were clearer than the flight there. It took not nearly as long, and finally, he returned home.
Ahead of him, he could see tiny boats littered around Blackwater Bay as well as the bustling city after that. As he got closer, the boats and people and buildings became larger and larger until he landed just outside the Dragonpit. He circled the air multiple times as he descended, just like his mother reminded him to do, and he was greeted by two old dragonkeepers when he jumped off Tessarion and onto the dusty ground.
"Daeron Dārilaros," one of the dragonkeepers said as he bowed his head.
Prince Daeron.
The dragonkeepers prodded Tessarion with long sticks and placed a metal chain around her neck before guiding her back into the Dragonpit, whilst Daeron turned and walked to the carriage where his mother was.
"Mother!" Daeron said, running up into her arms.
"Daeron! My boy... how was your week on Dragonstone?" she asked happily.
"Oh... it was splendid, Mother!" he replied excitedly. "We went to Driftmark, and met Ser Vaemond, and Grandmother said that she shall return to the city!"
Throughout the carriage ride back to the Red Keep, Daeron spoke of everything he did, from the flight there and back, his time in the library, and the tour of Driftmark. By the end of it, he was almost out of breath, so his mother gave him some sweet orange juice from Dorne to quench his thirst. Despite his adventurous week, he still wasn't tired, and when he returned to the Red Keep, he couldn't wait to run around with Baela, Baelon, and Jocelyn and tell them about his week, and for them to tell him about their week. Since Daeron and Baela introduced Jocelyn to Baelon, they became fast friends, too, and the four were inseparable. They ran around the Red Keep together, and all of them decided to have an evening supper with each other, following relentless pestering of their parents.
He did just that, hopping out of the carriage just as it arrived and greeting his sister, nephew, and friend with long embraces. Baela excitedly asked what riding Tessarion was like, whilst Baelon wanted to know if Dragonstone was really like how people described it, and Jocelyn gently inquired about the vast library on Driftmark. Daeron seemed to spend an hour answering all of their questions which was met by cheers and shouts and gasps. Baela and Baelon even started to plan their flight to Dragonstone when they finally were allowed to, whilst Jocelyn was in awe of all the books Daeron said were in High Tide's library.
"Oh... I just remembered... Mother said that we could meet my baby brother!" Baelon exclaimed as they all sprinted to Maegor's Holdfast to meet Joffrey.
The four of them ran past guards and servants in blue or red, as well as doors, tapestries, and twisting hallways. Jocelyn nearly knocked over a page carrying two pails of water, so she apologised profusely to the page, whilst he apologised just as much to the children. They reached the room where little Joffrey was, and Ser Harwin Strong, the huge knight in the gold cloak, was standing guard outside of it.
"Ser Harwin! Ser Harwin!" jumped Baelon. "We are here to see to see Joffy!"
"Go along then - you do not need to ask me, Prince!" Ser Harwin laughed before rubbing Baelon's golden hair. "In you go, children!"
Inside, Daeron's older sister, Rhaenyra, stood there cradling Joffrey. When she saw all of them, she smiled slightly and placed Joffrey on the wide bed, his little body covered by layers of red cloths.
"This is my baby brother, everyone! Daeron, Baela, Jocelyn, this is Joffy!" remarked Baelon, showing them the little lad.
"Isn't he called Joffrey?" Baela asked, putting her hands on her hips.
"I said that!" Baelon said. "Joffy!"
"No... it's Joffrey!" Daeron replied whilst Rhaenyra chuckled behind them.
"Joffy!" Baelon shouted.
"Say this after me, Baelon..." Jocelyn explained. "Jo-ff"
"Jo-ff," repeated Baelon.
"-rey," continued Jocelyn,
"-rey!"
"Jo-ff-rey."
"Jo-ff-rey!"
"There!" Baela yelped. "You said it!"
"Joffrey," Jocelyn said.
Baelon thought long and hard, his face twisting and his eyebrows furrowing as he did. Eventually, his bright green eyes looked up, and he smiled.
"JOFFY!" he shouted.
Everyone just burst into laughter, and Daeron hugged Baelon tightly.
"You will learn it one day!" laughed Daeron, patting his nephew on the head.
"Mother... can we carry Joffy? Just like you or Ser Harwin or Grandfather sometimes do?" Baelon asked, pulling at his mother's skirts.
"Aren't you all too little to carry him?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Please, Mother!" pleaded Baelon. "Then only Daeron... he is the biggest of us! Please!"
"Very well..." Rhaenyra relented, carefully giving Daeron the baby.
"It's... don't worry..." Daeron said, shying away from Joffrey.
"No... carry him, Daeron!" Baelon said. "My mother allowed you to!"
"Yes, carry him!" cheered Baela.
"Very well..." sighed Daeron, taking Joffrey in his arms.
The little lad was heavy despite being so tiny. He was awake, and his small brown eyes stared up at Daeron. Joffrey's brown hair curled slightly at the top of his head, and he giggled when Daeron stuck out his tongue. Daeron did it again, and Joffrey laughed and shouted loudly.
"He likes you!" smiled Baelon. "Rock him! Rock him, Daeron!"
Daeron did that, too, in the same manner, he saw his mother rock Aemon. Joffrey seemed to like that too, so Daeron continued to whilst Joffrey smiled and cooed. After making silly faces and cradling Joffrey, Daeron's arms began to ache, so he let the baby down on the bed. Then, he tapped Joffrey on his pug nose, which evoked some laughter from him.
"Let me play with Joffrey now!" Baela said, and Daeron moved to let his little sister play with the baby. She went up to him and stroked his curly brown hair whilst Joffrey looked up ponderously at her.
Whilst Baela played with Joffrey, Daeron thought about if one day, he would have children of his own, and if he would carry a babe in his arms, just like he carried Joffrey, or how his mother carried him, or how his grandparents carried her so many years ago.
I need to marry first to do that!
He was not married yet, nor was he even betrothed, whatever that meant. He knew that Baelon was going to marry his cousin from Casterly Rock and that Baela was going to marry a boy called Kermit, who was supposed to be a fish.
No... his HOUSE is a fish... you can't marry a fish. That would be silly, like marrying a frog.
Daeron had thought, since he was a Targaryen, that he would marry his sister, Baela, in the style of his father's parents, and their parents before him, and their parents before them, and their parents before them. But since she was to marry the Kermit boy, Daeron didn't know yet who he would marry. His eyes then turned to Jocelyn, who patiently watched Baela making a funny face at Joffrey, standing by the corner of the bed.
Maybe I could marry her... no... she is not a Valyrian... aren't Valyrians supposed to marry only Valyrians?
"Jocelyn, don't you want to play with Joffy?" Baelon asked her.
"No... it is no issue..." she replied, blushing slightly.
"Go on, Jocelyn, don't be shy..." Rhaenyra said, encouraging the girl.
"Very well..." sighed Jocelyn, slowly going up to Joffrey. She made a funny face too, and Joffrey loved it even more than he did with Daeron or Baela. Then, she stroked Joffrey's hair and pulled his cheeks. Jocelyn eventually came to enjoy playing with Joffrey so much she even took him in her little arms and rocked him back and forth until the baby slowly drifted off to sleep.
Whilst watching Jocelyn, Baela, and Baela wonder at the sleeping Joffrey, Daeron went and sat by his older sister, who was on a chair, looking on like a proud parent. When Daeron sat next to Rhaenyra, she still continued to smile, but not as much as before.
"Joff is a very nice baby," said Daeron to his sister.
"Yes... he is..." said Rhaenyra nervously.
"He is much nicer than our brother... Aemon wails every night... I wish he was as calm as Joff..."
"Hmm," she simply said, a cup of wine in her hand.
"But there is one thing I am not sure about..."
"What?" Rhaenyra asked, looking at him.
"Why does Joff have brown hair?" he innocently asked.
"I'm sorry-" she spluttered, spilling wine all over the floor and startling Jocelyn.
"I was learning with Septa Roelle about how a babe looks like the father and mother... so Joff should look like Baelon, or like you... but he doesn't..."
"Well..." she said seriously. "That is... since... Joffrey's father, Lord Jason, had a grandmother who had brown hair, so that is how Joff has brown hair..."
That does make sense!
"Ahh..." Daeron said. "Now I know! It is like Queen Alysanne, who was said to look like her Massey grandmother. That is what happened with Joff!"
"Yes..." she said, nodding to herself as her purple eyes lit up and a smile came to her face. "That is how it happened."
They sat in amiable silence for a while until Daeron's eyes drifted to a steaming cauldron in the corner of the room.
Dragon eggs!
"Joffrey has an egg in his cradle!" Daeron shouted.
"Yes... it was an egg from Syrax's clutch," Rhaenyra replied.
"Could you give Aemon an egg from Syrax's clutch? Grandmother always says that the reason our brother is so angry is because he doesn't have an egg... she is at Dragonstone waiting to see if Meleys lays one, but if she doesn't... could you give Aemon an egg?"
"Maybe... I'll have to ask your mother first. I can't just place one in his cradle," she replied.
"She would not refuse... I shall ask her later!" exclaimed Daeron. "How was your flight to Dragonstone when you were younger?"
"I still remember it as if it were yesterday," she said, her voice soft, and her body relaxed. "I was even younger than you were, only seven years old."
"Seven?!" he gasped.
"Yes, it was daunting... but I managed all the same... just like you did."
"Was it stormy when you flew... or was it a sunny day like when I flew?"
"The flight to Dragonstone was a mild day, but there was some rain on the flight back, though not too bad," she smiled.
"It would not have stopped the flight from being as amazing, though?" Daeron asked.
"Yes..." she sighed happily. "There is nothing that comes close to the pleasure of riding on a dragon. You are so far up in the sky, your hair blows in the winds, and you feel as if you are safer than ever."
"I was once a craven before. Did you know that? I did not want to fly on Tessarion, but then when I had the courage to... I should have done it earlier!"
"You are not craven, Daeron... the fact that you did shows that you were brave..." Rhaenyra said calmly.
Daeron smiled. He had not thought his older sister would ever say something like this to him. He had always known her to be friendly enough, if not slightly distant. But Daeron knew that since she was so much older than him, that was expected.
He and Rhaenyra spent the remainder of the evening talking, even when Joffrey went off with the handmaidens and Baela, Baelon, and Jocelyn went off to play somewhere. Daeron and his sister talked about dragons, histories (which Rhaenyra hated), and their favourite foods. Daeron was shocked to hear that she loved the Qartheen sweet of thin pastry, nuts, and honey, since it was his favourite too. Eventually, the hour had grown late, and Daeron felt sleepy from all the talking, laughing, and dragon riding.
He gave his older sister a small embrace and wearily walked back to his quarters. In there, his mother was waiting for him.
"Mother!" Daeron said excitedly.
"Daeron... how was your day... I heard you spent all of it with Rhaenyra," his mother said.
"Yes... I carried Joffrey, we talked about dragons, and we ate some sweets after!" he replied.
"Didn't you want to go and play with your sister and Jocelyn?" she asked.
"I did... but then we talked about so many different things... she even said she could give Aemon an egg from Syrax!"
"Really?" she replied, lifting an eyebrow.
"Really, yes! I was telling her how Aemon still does not have an egg, and how Grandmother is hoping Meleys lays an egg, but then she said that mayhaps she could give one-"
"You told her all of this?" his mother asked, her tone slightly more serious.
"Yes... so are you going to accept her offer of an egg, mother?"
"I shall think about it," she stated bluntly.
"Why? You said that you wanted Aemon to have an egg, so why not take it from her?"
"Rhaenyra was saying that to placate you," she sighed. "If she wanted to give Aemon an egg, she would have already."
"Why would she not? She's me and Aemon's sister?"
"She is your half-sister, yes..."
Daeron felt uneasy for some reason.
"Why do you not trust her? Rhaenyra is friendly; she even explained why Joffrey does not look like her-"
"She did?" she said, her lilac eyes widening.
"She said that it is because of Lord Jason's grandmother or something..."
"So, that's what she said..." his mother replied, nodding and smirking.
"Why is that important, mother? How does that have anything to do with the egg?"
She sighed and crouched to look eye-to-eye with Daeron. She put her warm hands on his shoulders and sighed.
"Because your half-sister is lying... Joffrey's father isn't truly Lord Jason Lannister."
"No!" gasped Daeron. "Why would she lie about it?"
"Do you remember Ser Harwin Strong... the guard outside of her chambers?"
Daeron cautiously nodded at his mother. "B-but... that would... would mean... Joff is a... b-bastard..."
His mother nodded sadly at him.
"That can't be... Septa Kyra said bastards are evil... but Joffrey is a nice babe... and why would my sister lie about it?"
"The same reason she lied about giving Aemon an egg," she said dismissively.
"But she's my sister! She's our family!" he protested, tears bubbling in his eyes. It all didn't make sense. Why did his mother hate his sister? And why was Rhaenyra a liar?
"She's related to you by blood, Daeron, but she's not family," she warned. "Me, you, Baela, Aemon; we're family... why do you think she hardly spoke to you most of the time..."
Daeron struggled for an answer. "That's... that-"
"Because you are a very threat to her."
"A threat? Why would I threaten Rhaenyra?" Daeron cried.
"Your father named your half-sister as his heir... yet you should be his heir. So long as your father refuses to change his resolve, you shall always be a threat to her."
"That's not right! If she is the heir, then very well! I don't want to fight Rhaenyra or Baelon or anyone! I won't be a threat to her!" he spluttered.
"Your very presence means you are... you've read the histories... King Jaehaerys ascended over his half-sister... as did your father over Grandmother... you are a boy, Daeron... that means you threaten her claim on the Iron Throne, regardless of if you want to be or not."
"Then... then... why did you never tell me this before, mother?" gasped Daeron.
She looked at him and frowned before taking him into a warm embrace. "I'm sorry... dear... I'm only telling you now since you are old enough... and you must keep this between us... promise, Daeron?"
"I... I... promise..." he whimpered. "But... but does that mean I cannot speak to her... or Baelon... or Joff..."
"No, no... play and talk and have fun with Rhaenyra or Baelon or Joff as you wish... but mind your tongue around your half-sister... she means to steal your birthright."
Daeron just softly cried into his mother's arms as if he was a tiny little baby again. After a while, the tears dried up, and his mother carried him to his bed.
"There now, dear... sleep well... you've had a long day," she said softly. "I love you, Daeron. I always will..."
She blew out the candles and left the room.
Despite Daeron's busy day, he could not sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, but the sleep was not coming. It was because he felt a deep sense of dread inside him, and he had just learned something he wished he had never learned.
She's my sister... why... why would I have to fight her?
Daeron tried to make sense of it all, but he couldn't. He didn't want to fight his half-sister for the throne. He cried into his pillow, soaking the soft, white sheets.
I don't want to go to war with Rhaenyra... I don't want to do it...