Aenar ran through the halls of Sunspear, ignoring the calls of anyone around him. His mind was stagnated on one task and one task only. Cannibal was already waiting for him to mount when Aenar exited the ruined castle as if the Dragon knew what had occurred. The two took flight in the next moment without a word to anyone.
The flight from Sunspear to Oldtown was not an easy or short one, both places existing on opposite ends of the continent. Yet when Cannibal flew, he flew as if he were a blur. It was as if whatever dark entity had latched itself to Aenar had seeped into Cannibal and given its powers a normal Dragon would not have. Possibly powers a normal Dragon should not have.
Aenar arrived at Oldtown in under two days and immediately the young man was rushing towards the High Tower of Oldtown, the seat of House Hightower.
The people of the town were in mourning from the faces that Aenar saw as he rushed by. Why? Why would they mourn? What have they lost that they mourned?
The guards at the High Tower permitted him to enter without a fight. Who wouldn't recognise a Targaryen these days? Especially one wearing black Valyrian-styled armour.
People stared as Aenar rushed by them through the halls. Some were shocked to see him. Not surprising considering he was at Sunspear two days prior. Some were slightly afraid when they saw him. Was he wearing a terrifying expression on his face?
Though most wore faces of sadness, pity and condolences.
Aenar did not appreciate the looks of pity.
The running eventually stopped when Aenar reached Gwyn's bedchambers and slammed the doors open. Lady Hightower was present in the chambers, as were Lady Jenny and Lady Dyana (the older two daughters of Lord Manfred Hightower). And on the bed with a vacant expression was Gwyn. They all turned when Aenar slammed the doors open. Lady Hightower and her elder two daughters stood at once, but Gwyn just stared at Aenar. Slowly tears welled up in her eyes before she let out a sob.
Meria Martell was right… The child did look like him.
The babe couldn't even be a year old, or perhaps he was a year old and death had made him seem younger than he was. By all logic, he should be a year old, or perhaps he was months or days away from his first nameday.
But those were filler thoughts, walls that pushed the real thoughts aside for now.
It was customary for the deceased to be placed in a sept, to be stood vigil for seven days. Or at least, that was the custom for the Higher Born. And a Prince of the Realm was at the peak of it all. But the boy was a Targaryen as well. Aenar would allow for the boy to be stood vigil over in the ways of the Seven, but he will be burned by Dragonfire after and his ashes would be interred at Dragonstone in the same manner as that of his ancestors.
The doors to the Sept were opened and a tall shadow fell over Aenar from behind. The shadow vanished when the doors were shut and he heard footsteps slowly approaching him. Her scent of Lavender told him who had arrived even before she had stopped and stood beside him.
Aenar and Gwyn did not speak, both staring intently at the body of their son. Neither of them had spoken much to the other since Aenar's return two days prior. Both preferred to sit in silence holding hands or if Gwyn was close to breaking, Aenar would hug her and let her cry. But no words were exchanged yet.
"Did he have a name?" Aenar asked.
Gwyn gave a barely perceptible nod.
"Vaegon" the woman spoke, her voice hoarse.
Vaegon… a good name.
"He had a habit of putting whatever he found in his mouth. A very childish habit that we were trying to wean him off" the woman continued. "But before we could…"
"Aye…" Aenar gently nudged her hand and Gwyn grasped it as if her life depended on it.
"He fell victim first… If not for him, the Maester wouldn't know what kind of poison it was. I would have died too after him, in slow agony" Her grip tightened.
"Have they caught who it was?" Aenar asked.
"They suspect it was one of the servants… But with how many there are, we don't know for certain."
Aenar nodded.
"Did you kill them?"
"Aye. I killed Meria with my own hands… Burned her son and choked her granddaughter until she died from lack of air."
"They died too soon…" Gwyn muttered savagely. "They should have suffered like our little boy did. They should have been forced to beg for death!"
The last words were sounded out loud and they echoed through the chambers of the Sept.
"I wish to better myself" she added after a moment, once more subdued.
"In what way?" Aenar asked.
"I wish to be able to protect myself from our enemies. I have read that people build up a resistance to poisons by ingesting small amounts of them over the years. I want to do that. I want to be able to wield a sword and fight. Relying on others has cost me my son. I don't want to rely on others anymore. I want to protect my children by my own hands!"
Aenar stared at the fury filled face of his wife, saw the pain and hurt in her eyes, saw the flames of vengeance burning inside them. He looked away with a small smile.
"I will train you myself. We will grow this resistance together. Because rely on others or not, I will not let them come this close to you ever again."
Gwyn looked at her husband, nodded meekly and looked away.
"When Meria first told me how my son looked just like me, I was rooted to the spot. I didn't know I had a child, and then to know my enemy knew this and her tone was so threatening…" Aenar inhaled deeply. "It would make me sound like a terrible father, but while I flew back here on Cannibal, all I could think about was you. All I could think about was not my heir dying, but you. In my mind, I already lost my boy… The thought of losing you too…"
Gwyn gripped his hand tighter.
"We will do better together. I will train you, we will immune ourselves to poisons, we will do everything to protect our family from everything around us."
"No matter what path we may need to walk to achieve it."
Aenar and Gwyn stared at one another.
"I have always prayed to the gods with my father and my mother and my siblings. I know every line from the holy texts and have memorised every song and hymn. And for all of that, the gods rewarded me with the death of my son… the death of our baby boy! I am done praying, I am done relying on them to bless me. I will take what blessing I desire with my own hands. I will create my world with my own hands and if anybody dares to try and take it all away from me I will make them rue the day they were ever born!"
Aenar stared at her a moment longer and took in her pained determination. Then he smiled. He leaned in and touched her lips with his for a short chaste kiss.
"We will write our own destinies" Aenar murmured against her lips and Gwyn leaned in ever so closer.
It had been a mistake to even entertain the words of that Dornishman. But what she did… it was the right thing to do. The Targaryens were anomalies, incestuous insults to the gods themselves. And for the High Septon to simply allow them to take Old Town, the holiest of lands! He was a devil fucker, just like Manfred Hightower who allowed his daughter to marry one of those demons.
She'd taken care of the demon spawn.
The child of a demon bastard!
She had saved the world from the thing's tyranny and demonicity.
But she should have made the Dornishman prepare a way for her escape. She should have known the demon-worshipping Manfred Hightower would put men on the streets to find the killer of his demonic grandchild.
No matter… the gods would show her a way. She was loyal to them and worshipped them in earnest. There was no way they would abandon her in her time of need.
A knock at her door stopped her thought process. She fixed her hood over her head and answered the door.
And immediately being tackled to the ground with a hand over her mouth. It was a feminine hooded figure on top of her. A male hooded figure closed the door gently behind him.
"You took everything from me!"
The woman knew that voice. An immediate chill ran down her spine when she stared into her assailant's eyes. It was like staring into pools of blue wildfire.
The woman tried to speak.
"We do not care why you did it" the male spoke and fearful eyes shifted to the man close to the door. His eyes were red as blood and almost glowing with malevolence.
The woman swallowed thickly before yelping when something sharp stabbed her in the gut. Her assailant had stabbed her with something and she was slowly dragging the object and cutting her open.