The Princess and the Queen 31: Aemon II

Aemon was now in the warmth of his mother's arms. It was much better than the sharp chill of the night, where his nephews and niece attacked him for the mere crime of claiming a dragon.

Is that not what Targaryens are meant to do?

He somewhat wished that he had drawn the knife soon, and drove it deeper into his nephew's face, just so the horrific wailing he made after that would stop.

The guards pulled me away before I could.

However, Visenya and Joffrey would have undoubtedly attacked Aemon in retaliation, and it could have ended even worse for Aemon. His nose was already broken, and he had bruises and cuts on his face and arms. His body ached and certainly could not do with another fight, but luckily his mother was there to protect him.

At least one person is.

He looked ruefully at Daeron and Baela, who stood just by Mother, their mouths open in shock and their eyes wide in terror. They gasped when initially seeing Aemon's bruises, as well as the other kids, but quickly rushed over to Aemon first and foremost.

"Seven hells!" Baela gasped worriedly.

"Where were you both?" snapped Mother, grabbing both of them by the collars. "Were you…" she began, before noticing that Baelon ran into the room at the same time as them. "You fools! Both of you! Whilst your brother was being attacked, of all times!"

"What happened, Aemon?" Daeron quickly asked, grabbing onto his bruised face. "Are you well?"

Aemon grunted and nodded whilst Mother grabbed Daeron by the arm.

"You should have both been there to defend your baby brother," she scoffed, before lowering her voice and turning her angry pale lilac eyes towards Aemon's half-sister's family. "Instead of fraternising with the enemy."

They all glimpsed over to the other side of the hall. Aemon's half-sister had her arms wrapped around Viserys, whilst Maester Gerardys attended to where his eye was. Visenya was sobbing in her father's arms, who looked to be saying some angry words at Baelon, who had his arms around the sobbing Joffrey. Rhaenyra then gave a sharp look at Prince Daemon, and those words stopped, before she turned to stare at Aemon, venom in her purple eyes.

"She'll want our heads," whispered Baela.

"A united front," said Mother, swiftly putting her other arm around Baela whilst Daeron nodded and grabbed ahold of Aemon's shoulder. Ser Criston shuffled slightly closer to them, as Mother commanded Ser Willis to do so, too.

The room was silent for the tiniest of moments, and just as it seemed it would erupt in another rage of words, like it did when Mother arrived, and Daemon and Rhaenyra just after that, the wide doors of the hall swung open.

"What is the meaning of this?" roared the voice, echoing across the stone walls.

Aemon didn't realise who it was until the figure coming through the doors became clearer. The King hobbled into the hall, flanked by three of his Kingsguard. He was still the same sick old man, draped in an ermine cloak that looked too big for him. His face was still rotting, and he was hunched over like some strange cripple from those menageries in Essos, but the rage in his voice was something Aemon had never heard in all ten years of his life.

He actually sounds like a king.

For a moment, Aemon was stunned that the King actually had such conviction within him, and then he realised that he would never use that to defend Aemon. If he was so outraged at hearing about an incident, he would be even more wroth at finding out that his dear grandson, who shared his namesake, received a little scratch on his face.

"Why am I awoken at such-" the King began, before gasping loudly. "Gods… what happened…" he panted, dropping his wooden cane, almost falling before Ser Rickard held him up. "What happened to you, Viserys? I will have answers!"

"It was Aemon…" whimpered Viserys.

"You all attacked me first!" replied Aemon, instinctively reaching for his side, even though the guards that found him took the knife.

"He took Viserys' eye!" shouted Visenya. "And broke Joff's nose!"

"You shouldn't have confronted me then!" Aemon protested.

"You stole Vermithor!" Joffrey added.

"You can't steal a dragon!" countered Aemon, and by then, all three of them began yell at him. Aemon, of course, shouted at those mewling idiots in return, until the King ordered them all to be silent.

Everyone obeyed, and all that could be heard was the wind licking at the walls and the distant roar of some dragon. The King then slowly shuffled over to Viserys, every footstep echoing, along with the gentle clunk of his cane with it.

He put his one crusty hand on Viserys' face and ran his fingers through it, gently stroking it as if his grandson was a cat. It almost looked as if a tear was forming in his purple eyes.

"My boy… what did he do to you…" he whispered in disbelief. He then turned his eyes to Aemon, and they were filled with a rage Aemon had never seen before. A fire had been lit in those eyes, and Aemon finally realised why this man was once the rider of Balerion.

Why does he never defend me so ardently?

"Aemon!" the King shouted, stumbling over to him. "What have you done to him?" he demanded, jabbing his stump of an arm at Aemon's one-eyed nephew. "You are to explain yourself to me."

The King's spit was spewing all over Aemon's face, and his hot breath smelt like the privy. Aemon was too busy trying to block out the smell; he didn't hear all of the words the old man was ranting at him.

At some point, he had finally finished his tirade, and Aemon's face was covered in the old man's phlegm, and he felt like puking. Luckily, Mother stepped before him and looked her husband directly in the eye.

"This is no way to talk to your son, Your Grace!" she said, tears in her eyes, even if her fists were clenched. "Words were spoken, it became heated, and punches were thrown. It is that simple. My… Our son does not deserve such a scolding for the crime of being attacked by his nephews at their very own home! Is there no such concept as guest rights anymore?"

"Attacked?" scoffed Rhaenyra. "My son was maimed by yours, and yet you ignore such a vital fact of the matter. Do you feel so entitled to that as well?" she asked, stepping in front of her son. "No… do not believe the lies of her, Father. Her son snuck out at night, and ventured deep into the caves, endangering himself, before endangering my own children, and almost taking the life of them. Viserys has been blinded for life, but you seem to see this as a trivial matter. I will have answers, and I will have justice for him!"

"The loss of his eye is unfortunate," shrugged Mother. "Yet the flesh shall heal. The most grave matter is that your children were left unsupervised, and used such a time to attack my son. He was outnumbered, and was pushed to use a weapon to defend himself."

"My children would not carry such weapons along with them. They are not savages," Rhaenyra countered. "Your son brought the knife with him with the intention of causing harm - and his intention was carried out, and my son shall suffer these consequences for the rest of his life."

I just wish his consequences were more than just an eye, and that his whiny siblings and mother could suffer the same.

"The knife was not brought along by my son," Mother bluntly said.

Aemon stifled a chuckle, wondering if his mother was protecting him (as she always would), or simply thought otherwise.

She is the only person I can trust to protect me.

"Ser Criston can attest to this," she said, gesturing to the Lord Commander, who dutifully nodded.

"Aye, this is the knife in question," Ser Criston said coldly, displaying a small dinner knife, its blade crusted with dried blood and the handle wrought into a dragon. "This is from Dragonstone. Prince Aemon is not the culprit. That is true."

"That is no answer!" spat the King. "And my grandson was mutilated! Where were you in all of this? Can we not focus on such petty things?"

"If you would give your son a chance to speak, then mayhaps he shall tell his side of what occurred," whispered Mother.

"Very well, then," chuckled Prince Daemon, crossing his arms.

Everyone in the room turned to face him, and every person's expression was different. Mother's seemed worried, whilst Daeron and Baela were grimacing. The King looked furious, whilst his daughter was pale and his brother was smirking. Baelon looked half asleep, and Visenya, Viserys, and Joffrey seemed terrified.

"My nephews and niece made fun of the fact I did not have a dragon, nor an egg," explained Aemon, crossing his arms. "You told me yourself that I have to be brave to be a dragon rider," he said, jabbing a finger at the King. "So that is what I did. Yet, my dear half-sister's children seemed to mislike that… Upon returning to the castle, they attacked me… with a knife… beat me bloody…"

Aemon took a moment to take a breath and wipe his eye, even if it was dry. He probably wasn't very convincing, but it was still worth an attempt.

Unfortunately, I am not as good of a liar as my half-sister.

"Liar!" shouted Joffrey.

"Let me finish!" Aemon shouted back.

"You attacked us first!" added Visenya.

"Can you let my son tell his side, for once?" Mother shouted back at the mewling Joffrey and Visenya, before the King stomped his cane on the stone ground.

"Silence!" he roared, before turning to look at both sides of the room, exasperated.

The room went quiet again, with everyone waiting for what the King would say. The silence was broken by the faintest of whispering. Across the room, Rhaenyra kneeled slightly, listening to the words of her one-eyed son, who had been mostly silent, until now.

"He called Joff a bastard…" Viserys whispered.

Rhaenyra turned around, standing up and staring directly at Aemon. Her skin was pale, her expression blank, but her eyes were filled with silent rage. Calmly, she walked over to her father, yet her gaze was fixed on Aemon.

"Father, you cannot believe the yelping of them," she said, disgusted. "It was my son who was attacked and maimed, and that was only after my other son who has had vile insults levied at him."

"What insults do you mean, daughter?" the King asked, concern in his voice.

I don't think I ever remember him calling Baela his daughter.

"He called me a bastard," Joffrey replied for her.

"What?" gasped the King, confused.

Aemon smirked slightly, before his mother shot him a small glare, which made him stop.

The truth does hurt.

"This is a vile accusation that questions the legitimacy of my son, as well as that of my integrity," Rhaenyra said, hurt in her voice, even though Aemon suspected it was feigned. "Prince Aemon must be sharply questioned so we may hear where he heard these lies, but only after my son receives justice for what occurred."

"You would hurt my son over training yard bluster and insults?" Mother scoffed, taken aback by the notion.

"It is my son who was hurt by yours, do not presume to feel entitled in this, too," said Rhaenyra angrily, turning to face Mother. "It is nothing compared to the pain inflicted on Viserys."

"Where did you hear such a lie, boy?" the King asked, walking over to Aemon. "Tell me!" he shouted, his hot breath covering Aemon's face. "Who told you this? Someone must have!"

Aemon glanced at Daeron and Baela, waiting to see if they would answer for him. Daeron was gritting his teeth whilst Baela was staring at them, her face pale.

If you couldn't defend me earlier, at least do it now.

"Who was it, Aemon? Look at me!" shouted the King, his voice back to the whiny tone Aemon remembered.

Aemon looked again at his siblings, then at his mother, before taking a breath. If he blamed his siblings, their half-sister would also demand them to be sharply questioned. But if he blamed his mother, that would be even worse.

I will not throw you both in front of the arrows, even if you don't want to jump in front of me.

"Everyone knows, Father," Aemon replied bitterly. How much of that bitterness was directed at the old man or his two siblings, he didn't know. "Look at him."

The whole room turned to look at Joffrey. The nine-year-old just stood there, his nose bloodied and brown curly hair ruffled. A singular tear rolled down from his brown eye as he gulped. The King turned back again to face Mother.

"This must cease!" the King shouted, his voice still at its usual, weak cadence. "All of it! These insults, these fights! Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!" he demanded, stumbling over to the side of the room where he could address everyone. "Anyone who repeats this vile calumny shall lose a tongue," the old man said plainly.

"Thank you, Father," Rhaenyra quickly said, before crossing her arms. "But this is insufficient. Justice for the lies flung at Joff has been served, but there is still another debt to be paid…" she said, looking down nervously before looking up to face her father. "I want an eye for an eye," nodded Rhaenyra's half-sister.

I would burn your castle down before I let you take out my eye, wench.

The King looked over at Viserys, him still whimpering in that chair, his left eye sewn up. He then turned back to Rhaenyra, then to Mother, and then to Aemon.

No… he cannot… he will not…

"Very well," the King gulped. "An eye for an eye."

He just did…

Aemon was so stunned he didn't even react. He just stared at the wrinkly old man with his mouth open in shock. Mother quickly moved in front of him, as did Daeron, Baela, and Ser Criston.

I know he hardly likes me, but doing so with barely even a second thought…

"You would truly do such a thing?" asked Mother, her lilac eyes wide. "To your own son, cut out his own eye?"

"What other way shall my son be recompensed?" Rhaenyra asked.

"An apology shall suffice," Mother replied nervously. "Truly, my son's actions were accidental. More bloodshed is not the solution to this."

"How the elk talks so sweetly when cornered by hounds," smirked Rhaenyra. "That is not sufficient punishment for what your son did to mine."

"Rhaenyra, Princess…" Mother said, shaking her head. "Poor little Viserys must be in so much anguish following this. You would not truly subject your own brother to the same fate. What happened was unfortunate-"

"Unfortunate?" she laughed. "He will bear these scars for the rest of his life. The eye is lost!"

"Your tone has truly changed from earlier, hasn't it?" chuckled Prince Daemon, spitting on the ground, his saliva landing inches away from Baelon's boots.

"At least ask young Viserys what should happen!" Mother said, hastily pointing at him. "It was he who was hurt… consider his words, too!"

"Do not presume to speak for my son," Rhaenyra bitterly replied, but Mother ignored her whinging.

"What do you feel is justice for you, Prince Viserys?" Mother asked the boy, who turned to look at her, fear and anger in his sad, purple eye.

"I don't want him to marry my sister," Viserys said, pointing a skinny, pale finger at Aemon. "I don't want him anywhere near her, ever."

Mother grimaced, before releasing her clenched fist and sighing. Rhaenyra, meanwhile, frowned whilst Prince Daemon ran a hand through his silver hair.

"Aye, there," Mother quickly said. "There we have it! It is unfortunate, but it is what the boy wants. I do not wish to see this union between our families broken, but it is what Prince Viserys considers adequate justice."

"You do not wish for anything else, boy?" Prince Daemon said to his son, almost patronisingly. "Not even Aemon's eye?"

"Do not stress the boy any more!" said Mother, shaking her head profusely. "The boy has seen enough violence with his eyes… eye today. He should be spared from being made to order another act."

"Let my son speak for himself," Rhaenyra coldly replied, walking back to her son, putting an arm around him. "Do you wish for anything else to happen to Aemon?" she softly asked, ruffling his hair and giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Viserys looked at Aemon for a while, his mouth pursed into a frown and his eyes unblinking. Aemon couldn't discern whether there was hate, fear, anger, or relief in his eye, and that somewhat worried him.

I do hope his mother's words haven't swayed him.

"No…" Viserys softly said. "I don't want you to take his eye."

"What?" Prince Daemon scoffed. "Why?"

"He will look like me, then," he replied. "I don't want him to look like me."

"Very well," smiled Rhaenyra weakly.

Aemon breathed a sigh of relief, as did his mother and siblings. Rhaenyra, meanwhile, seemed almost dumbfounded for a moment before clutching her son tighter, whilst Baelon, Joffrey, and Viserys all put reassuring hands on their brother. Prince Daemon just clicked his teeth and leaned against the stone wall.

"I feel as though this has been resolved then," Mother said, smacking her hands together. "Again, we shall say our apologies, and return to our beds for the remainder of the night."

"No, it is not resolved. Not just yet," Rhaenyra said, making the room turn to face her again. She stood up again, walking over to her father. "The union between my daughter and Aemon is no more, but we need some compensation for the breaking of a betrothal."

"What do you mean?" squinted the King.

"It was your son who suggested ending the betrothal," Mother laughed.

"The dowry must still be paid, as a financial recompense. Another method of showing your apology is genuine," replied Rhaenyra, ignoring Mother. "The amount paid must be significant, but I am certain that shall be no burden to your father, shall it?" she asked Mother. "I am certain House Velaryon's coffers are still as overflowing as before, and such a payment shall barely be noticeable."

"That… seems reasonable…" conceded the King, as Mother bitterly laughed at that proposal. "Do you have issue with that?"

"Aye, are Driftmark's coffers truly that empty?" added Prince Daemon.

Mother then looked at the King, then Rhaenyra, and back at the King, before sighing.

"Very well, I accept," she curtly said. "I take that these are all of your demands?"

"Demands?" repeated Rhaenyra. "My son lost his eye, yet you seem to treat this as a minor incident. The fact that I have not ordered Aemon's eye removed this moment is as a mercy to you and your son," she said, almost sadly. "I have another request, Father."

"Another one," Mother said to nobody in particular, raising her eyebrows.

"I wish for the exile for me and my family to be lifted," Rhaenyra plainly replied.

"You must be japing," Mother huffed, waving her hand away.

"Why would that be?" Prince Daemon asked dismissively. "It is not a large ask."

"Considering that it has only been nine years of the twenty imposed on you both, I feel as though it is," replied Mother, clenching her fists. "It seems to me that you do not care for any justice. You are trying to squeeze every last gain you can from this, just as a peasant tries to mop up every last drop of gruel."

"I do not care?" Rhaenyra asked, bewildered by the fact. Despite Aemon's dislike of his older half-sister, he felt that her rage was real, and she very much did care. If it was me who lost an eye, would the King care as much? "Say that again to me, without hiding behind the skirts of your precious white knight time," she snorted, her brows furrowed and her cheeks redder than her dress. "Be glad the mercy of my son allowed your son to keep his damned eye. I highly doubt Prince Aemon would afford him the courtesy if it was reversed."

I would claw out Viserys' eye myself if he cut mines out, as well as his mother and grandfather's, for good measure.

Aemon moved forwards slightly, before Mother moved her hand to his chest, holding him back. Ser Criston then pulled him by the shoulder, which Aemon quickly shrugged off.

"Aye, this is only justice being served to my daughter," nodded the King, sounding almost proud. "You are correct, Rhaenyra. This exile has gone on for too long. You have visited the capital twice already, and I have visited here, too."

"You must be japing, too, Your Grace," said Mother, her mouth open.

"No, why would I be?" the old man replied.

"You exiled Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon for a reason. To throw that all away-"

"Why are you the one making demands here, Laena?" he countered, his tone annoyed. "It is not your son who was-"

Your son.

"Our son!" she corrected.

"Yes, but that does not change the matter," he replied, swatting his stump of an arm at her. "This farce has gone on for too long - I decree that the exile shall end for you, Rhaenyra!" he announced proudly. "Now, the both of you, as I have begged of you countless times, before today and now, end your fighting. End all of it. Make amends. For this old man who loves you all so dearly and deeply, please!"

Since when did "all" mean his firstborn daughter and her family?

"Yes, Father, thank you," Rhaenyra simply said, solemnly.

"Very well," nodded Mother, half a smirk on her face, even if her tone was defeated. "In that case, we shall return home."

"What, why?" the King asked.

"Since the exile is at an end, the Princess is free to visit the capital whenever she wishes; she can always follow us back to King's Landing. I would rather put this all behind us. I do thank the Princess for her excellent hospitality, however," she bluntly said, turning to leave the room.

"I agree with Her Grace," Rhaenyra said. "I would rather not endure her presence any longer, but it was still a pleasure to see you again, Father," she smiled, going to kiss his rotting cheek. "I do wish we could create many more memories to cherish."

"In that case…" smiled the King sadly. "If you so wish, daughter… we are guests on your island, after all," he chuckled. "And yes, do visit soon."

"Come, Daeron, Baela, Aemon, we shall make our preparations to leave. It seems your half-sister cannot bear your presence," she said bitterly, beckoning them all to follow her.

They all did, and within hours, they were ready to depart. It was done in mostly silence, with Aemon not speaking a word to his siblings. He was about to, but Mother warned him to spare any words he had for the journey back because she knew those words would not be pleasant.

A united front.

The sun was peeking over from the east, obscured by the gigantic volcano and castle between them and the harbour. The early morning was cool, with just the faintest of winds licking their uncovered faces.

Everyone was draped in dark blue and sable cloaks as the crewmen loaded the Blue Dragon with their belongings. After a few minutes by the harbour, it was time to board the carrack.

There was no farewell from Rhaenyra, her family, or even a small host to see them off. Not that Aemon was surprised, or wanted one. There were simply two servants, who stood watching it all silently, their faces stern and their eyes judging.

Above in the skies, three dragons flew overhead. Two of them were small and nimble. The first was a magnificent cobalt and copper, and the second a shimmering pearl and light green. The third dwarfed them both, its majestic bronze scales glimmering off the morning sun.

My dragon.

As he took one final look at Dragonstone, the sad, stony monstrosity of a castle, he just wished he could let his dragon loose on it, with everyone in there as he did.

He thought about it for a while, even after he had boarded the Blue Dragon until someone touched his shoulder. Aemon snapped out of his thoughts and whirled around to see his two older siblings.

"What?" Aemon demanded.

"I…" said Daeron, his dark purple eyes sorry. "I am sorry that we were not there."

"Me too," added Baela, frowning.

"You should have been," spat Aemon. "And you should have defended me in the hall."

"It-" began Daeron, before Aemon scoffed loudly.

"It is no matter. Mother was there for me, and I won't need you both to defend me anymore," Aemon said to them. "I have the biggest dragon in the world now."

He didn't let his siblings reply, and just marched off down to his cabin. They both tried calling out to him, but Aemon didn't reply.

Upon reaching his cabin, he slammed the wooden door with as much force as he could muster and collapsed on the bed. His head was pounding from all that happened, and he just wished to be alone.

His mind drifted back to his half-sister's family again, and their wormy faces and whiny voices. He couldn't stand the sight of any of them.

The day I claimed the largest dragon in the world, they took all the attention away from me.

Joffrey, with his childish mewling, Visenya, who was just as bad, and Viserys, who was even worse. All of them who suffered no consequences for that damned pig.

I will show them all someday…

Aemon silently made a prayer to the Seven, as well as the gods of Valyria, that one day, he would unleash the fury of Vermithor upon all of them.

One day…