King's Landing, The Red Keep - 125 AC
I watched the days slip by, each one bringing us closer to Aegon's impending wedding, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration creeping in. My brother's lackadaisical attitude towards his impending nuptials grated on my nerves. While Aegon spent his days avoiding his betrothed and her family, I found myself enduring endless hours of training with the sons of lords who lacked even the most basic skills on the battlefield. Their incompetence only served to fuel my irritation, as I longed for the thrill of a real challenge, not the tedious routine of training exercises.
And then there were the ladies, with their fluttering eyelashes and coy smiles, attempting to ensnare me in their charms. But I had no interest in their flirtations, for my heart belonged to another, my betrothed, the most beautiful princess in all of Westeros. The thought of Lucerys brought a warmth to my heart, her image clear and vivid in my mind. She was the beacon of light in the darkness of courtly politics, her intelligence and grace shining like a guiding star.
If this is the future of Westeros, I truly despair for the realm. It looks like the only ones with a good head on their shoulders are House Velaryon and House Stark. I am certainly glad that my future wife's house was one of the few shining beacons of hope left in Westeros. I am starting to think that the only reason House Targaryen survived the Doom of Old Valyria was because of their dragon and House Velaryon… and dragon dreams.
At the moment, I couldn't help but roll my eyes as the familiar scene unfolded before me. My mother was once again in another shouting match with my brother, Aegon. This time, the source of their contention was Aegon's wedding attire. My brother stood defiantly, his expression a mix of smug satisfaction and cheeky defiance as he faced my mother's wrath. His choice of Targaryen red over Hightower green for his garments seemed to amuse him greatly, much to my mother's chagrin.
Mother, on the other hand, was livid. Her face flushed with indignation, her voice rising with each passing moment as she berated Aegon for his defiance. Her eyes blazed with fury, a stark contrast to Aegon's nonchalant demeanor. I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the whole affair. It was a familiar sight, one that had played out countless times before. My mother's relentless pursuit of power and status, my brother's rebellious streak—it was a dance I had grown weary of witnessing.
It baffled me why my mother was so fixated on the color green. From the early days of our childhood, it seemed as though every garment we wore had to be some shade of green. I couldn't help but recall the time she nearly fainted when I went through a phase of wearing all black.
But as we grew older, our tastes diverged. I found solace in the simplicity of black attire, favoring pants and robes in shades of silver, purple, and Velaryon teal. Aegon, always the rebel, stuck to his signature reds and browns, seemingly indifferent to our mother's disapproval. Helaena, ever the free spirit, embraced a rainbow of colors in her wardrobe, each dress a reflection of her vibrant personality. And then there was Daeron, the youngest of us all, his wardrobe remained a sea of green. As only one and ten namedays old, his clothing decision had to go through mother first.
With a tired sigh, I shifted my gaze away from the heated exchange between Aegon and mother, my attention drifting towards the rest of my family gathered in the room. As always, King Viserys was conspicuously absent—a fact that no longer surprised me. I had long grown accustomed to his aloofness, his attention focused elsewhere, on matters that held little relevance to me.
Truth be told, I harbored no desire for my father's attention. Our relationship, if one could even call it that, was characterized by a palpable sense of indifference on both sides. Instead, I found solace in the presence of Laenor, my betrothed's father, who had become a surrogate father figure to me in Viserys' absence. It was Laenor's guidance and wisdom that I sought, his approval that I craved—not that of the distant king who bore me.
Still, despite my ambivalence towards Viserys, I couldn't deny a certain fondness towards him. After all, he had been the one who arranged my betrothal to Lucerys. And later for agreeing with Princess Rhaenys to foster me in Driftmark alongside my betrothed. For that, at least, I owed him a measure of gratitude, however begrudging it might be.
My gaze shifted to Helaena, who sat nearby, lost in her own world as she let her spider crawl between her hands. My affection for my sister ran deep; alongside Lucerys, she had been my closest companion in childhood, a constant source of comfort and camaraderie. Yet, even as I looked upon her now, I couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at the enigmatic nature of her thoughts.
Unlike Lucerys, I lacked the patience and intuition to unravel the mysteries that lay within Helaena's mind. Her words often felt like riddles, cryptic and elusive, leaving me grasping for understanding. But there was no denying the significance of her dreams—the whispers of dragons that echoed in the depths of her subconscious.
Lucerys had confided in me, revealing that Helaena possessed the gift of dragon dreams, a rare and sacred ability. Though I trusted Lucerys implicitly, there were times when I struggled to comprehend the full extent of Helaena's visions, their meanings veiled in symbolism and metaphor. Yet, despite my uncertainty, I could not deny the profound bond that existed between us—a bond forged in the fires of familial love and shared experiences.
My attention shifted from Helaena to Daeron, who sat nearby with an unmistakable tension etched upon his features. Ever since the impending wedding drew near, I had observed a subtle but palpable unease emanating from my younger brother. Try as I might, I couldn't quite grasp the source of his inner turmoil.
Daeron was still a boy, his betrothal yet to be arranged, but his future is likely going to be bound to one of our distant cousins at the Stepstones in the interest of preserving our Valyrian lineage. Perhaps it was the weight of expectation, the looming prospect of a union he had little say in, that troubled him. Or perhaps it was something else entirely.
A wry smirk tugged at my lips as I considered another possibility. Daeron, ever innocent and naive, believed his affection for Joffrey to be nothing more than a familial bond between uncle and nephew. Oh, how little he understood the power of our Targaryen blood, the flames that ignited passion and desire within us. I had once been like him, convinced that my feelings for Lucerys were purely platonic, born of kinship. But as I grew older, I came to realize the voracious nature of my love, fierce and consuming like the fire of a dragon. Soon, Daeron too would come to understand the depths of his own desires, his heart drawn inexorably to Joffrey's side.
In any case, I harbored no concerns for my brother's future. As a third son with no inheritance to speak of, Daeron was free from the burdens of duty and obligation that weighed upon our elder siblings. Likewise, Joffrey faced a similar fate, his prospects of marriage and succession remote at best.
I was snap out oof my thoughts the moment mother's gaze settled on me. Mother's voice cut through the air, her words carrying the weight of authority. "Aemond, it's time for your training. Off you go."
The training sessions had become a tedious routine, one that I had grown to loathe with each passing day. The heirs of the noble houses from the Westerlands and the Reach, with their inflated egos and lackluster skills, tested my patience to its limits. It seemed as though no amount of instruction could penetrate their thick skulls, leaving me to wonder whether their minds were as feeble as their swordsmanship.
I withheld a tired sigh, as I bowed at the queen and left the chambers, ignoring my elder brother's mocking snickering. As I made my way to the training yard, a sense of frustration gnawed at me. How could I, as the son of House Targaryen, be expected to train alongside such dim-witted fools? It was a mockery of my abilities, an insult to my lineage.
I was so lost in my thoughts, that I almost missed the commanding voice of the Master of Ships calling out to me. "Prince Aemond," Lord Corlys' voice carrying across the hallway. "How are you doing? It's been a while since we last talked.
"That it has," I bowed respectfully, this was not only the Sea Snake but also the grandfather of my beloved Lucerys. "The wedding preparations has kept us all very busy."
"It has," Corlys agreed with a hum. "Such a waste of a beautiful day to remain inside, why don't you join me on a walk?"
I hesitated, torn between my scheduled duties and the prospect of spending time with Lord Corlys. Despite my internal conflict, I couldn't deny the allure of his company. Lord Corlys was a man of great wisdom and insight, someone I had come to admire and respect deeply.
"It would be my pleasure," I began, ready to decline politely, but Lord Corlys anticipated my hesitation. "But I have an… appointment."
"I know," he replied with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Another training session with the heirs of houses from the Westerlands and the Reach," his words were accompanied by a dangerous glint, hinting at his understanding of my predicament. "I do not believe they will feel insulted that the Master of Ships requested the presence of a prince of the realm." Corlys turned to one of the maids trailing behind him, I noted the Velaryon broch in her dress. "Inform the knights at the training yard that the prince will be absent of today's training session."
As the maid hurried off to carry out Lord Corlys's instructions, I couldn't help but smile in gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Corlys," I said sincerely, my voice tinged with appreciation as we began our stroll together.
As we strolled through the courtyard, Lord Corlys turned to me with a frown. "Prince Aemond, I've heard the maids and knights comment about your… dislike during the training sessions," Corlys began, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of reproach, "I understand why you are not happy to converse with prideful, unintelligent heirs, but as the future Lord Consort of House Velaryon you will need to learn how to deal with unpleasant people with a smile on your face. Right now, Lucerys is in a tea party with ladies that do not even know their sums and letters, but as bored as my granddaughter must feel she still does it because it is her duty as a lady of House Velaryon"
I nodded, recognizing the truth in his words even as they stung me with a hint of rebuke. Corlys didn't mince his words as he addressed my behavior, his tone a gentle but unmistakably firm. "It's not always easy," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "but duty often requires us to endure the company of unpleasant individuals, regardless of how we may feel. I've lost count of how many times I wished I could simply just stab a Sealord of Braavos or cut the tongue of a Volantis merchant. But doing so, would have not brought me the fame I've achieved nor given Driftmark the riches we now possess."
"You're right, Lord Corlys," I confessed, my voice tinged with humility. His words struck a chord within me, stirring a sense of shame at my own shortcomings. I couldn't help but lower my gaze, feeling a pang of guilt for my previous attitude. "I've been... less than accommodating, and I apologize for my behavior."
"It's a lesson we all must learn, my boy," he replied, his voice filled with paternal warmth. Corlys's gentle smile reassured me that there was no judgment in his eyes, only understanding and compassion. "But I have faith that you will rise to the occasion and prove yourself worthy of the title you will one day bear."
I smiled satisfied that I had not lost the favor of my future good grandfather. The two of us continued walking until we reached a group of ladies who were sighing enamored as a comely bard performed. As the bard's melodic voice filled the air with the enchanting strains of "The Pearl of Driftmark," Lord Corlys and I stopped our stroll, and found ourselves drawn into the captivating melody. The lyrics painted a vivid picture of Lucerys Velaryon, her essence captured in each verse.
In the hallowed halls of Driftmark fair,
Where sea and sky meet in the salty air,
There dwells a maiden, pure and bright,
A beacon of hope in the darkest night.
With each word, I felt a swell of pride and admiration for the girl I was to marry. The imagery of her hair as dark as onyx and her eyes as deep as the sea resonated deeply with me, reminding me of the beauty and strength that awaited me in my future bride.
With hair like onyx and eyes like the sea,
She walks with grace and humility,
A daughter of dragons, yet gentle as a dove,
Her heart filled with kindness, her spirit soaring above.
Beside me, Corlys listened with a mixture of fondness and reverence, his gaze fixed on the bard as if seeing his granddaughter embodied in every note. The song spoke to the core of his heart, reminding him of the virtues and grace that defined Lucerys's character. He must have felt a swell of paternal pride, knowing that she was destined for greatness.
She is the Pearl of Driftmark, they say,
A symbol of purity in a world turned gray,
With water in her soul and fire in her veins,
She brings balance and harmony, and e'er remains.
"She truly is the Pearl of Driftmark," I murmured, my voice filled with a mixture of admiration and reverence. "A beacon of hope in troubled times, a symbol of purity and strength."
Corlys nodded in agreement, his eyes shimmering with a paternal warmth as he listened to the bard's lyrical tribute to his granddaughter. "She is indeed," Corlys replied, his voice soft but filled with pride. "And she carries herself with such grace and dignity, even in the face of adversity. She is a true testament to the resilience of House Velaryon."
For where there is fire, there is passion and light,
And where there is water, there is calm and respite,
Together they dance in perfect harmony,
In the heart of the Pearl of Driftmark, for all to see.
With a shared glance and a knowing smile, we continued our walk through Aegon's garden, as the final notes of the song rang through.
So let us raise our voices in song and praise,
To the maiden fair, who brightens our days,
May her light shine ever bright and true,
The Pearl of Driftmark, our guiding star anew.
