Everyone, Thank you for your reviews and comments, I always read them even if I don't respond to them. I will respond to the last two's chapters in the next chapter (i expect this one will have a lot of reviews haha).
As always, please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think or if you have questions.
Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters after this chapter are available on P. .^T.^R.^E.^O.^N./ Boombox117
Mid to Late 114 AC – Kings Landing
Rhaenyra POV
She pulled at the reins of her steed as they arrived at the closed bronze gates of the Dragonpit, and quickly unhorsed herself before she walked up to the guards that stood on post, her guards and the two Kings guard following in her steps.
The guards by the gates recognised her immediately and bowed their heads at her, the word 'Your Grace' escaping from their mouths, but she paid it no mind as she ordered the men to open the gates.
The men quickly did as she ordered though she kept one of them behind whilst the gates were being opened, asking the guard what had happened.
After her uncle…fell…there had only been chaos amidst the shock and horror of the crowds in attendance. And amidst all of that, after she'd arrived on the ground with Baelon, had there been riders that came to the Tourney Grounds, riders she had managed to recognise as the dragonkeepers amongst the goldcloaks.
She had to force the guards to let them through and she'd been horrified to learn that Caraxes had lost control and was trying to get out of his chains.
With her father so…stricken, Rhaenyra knew that her father was in no mind to deal with this mess and Baelon…Baelon wouldn't know what to do anyway, even if he wasn't as…
All of this was why she was the only one who deal with this mess.
"The dragons went crazy, Y'r Grace." The guard looked nervous as he spoke, and he constantly looked over his shoulder, as if Balerion himself was haunting his shadows. "The 'keepers ordered us to keep the gates shut, all of them."
"Good, keep them shut after I enter. You are not to open it for anyone except for my father." Rhaenyra ordered and she did not wait to get the acknowledgement to her order for she quickly walked up towards the opening gates.
"Princes, your father would not wa-"
"My father doesn't want anything right now, Ser Arryk." Rhaenyra said harshly over her shoulder as the Kings Guard twins followed her. She looked forward in an attempt to banish the memory of seeing her father pale deathly white when Daemon was slain right in front of their eyes.
Her father had been struck mute, even when the Lord Commander urged her father to return to the Red Keep and her father had looked as if he'd lost his wits in that very moment. In the end, the Hightower whore interceded and got her father out of the royal stand with the majority of the Kings Guard and the castle guards in tow.
"I am doing my duty as heir to the Crown. Do not question me any further." Rhaenyra said harshly without once stopping her quick pace.
Finally, they arrived at the main chamber within the dragonpit where she could see more than a dozen of the dragonkeepers standing by one another though some of them made their way towards her.
"Your Grace." The elder dragonkeeper said with a bow of the head. "It is good that you are here." The man said and Rhaenyra could see his face blackened with ash.
"The dragons, tell me everything." Rhaenyra said as she met the man's gaze before she looked beyond him, towards the main entrance to the caves that held the majority of the dragons of her House.
"Caraxes suddenly let off a rage-filled roar." The dragonkeeper told her and the man wiped at his forehead with the sleeves of his robes. "It was terrible, this roar, and only once have I heard dragon react so suddenly but never, in all my years of serving your House, have I heard such fury from a dragon, Your Grace."
Her hands felt clammy and she looked away from the dragonkeeper's pitying look and she bit hard on her lip as she tried to keep her composure.
The dragonkeeper continued, much to her relief for she did not think any moment longer she could have prevented the full breadth of what happened overcoming her.
"He kept on yanking on his chains, thrashing furiously, and we could see that the chains would not hold him if he continued so we tried to calm him with his favourite prey." The dragonkeeper sighed heavily, his head shaking.
"We suffered for the folly. Eight of us died, Your Grace, and six more have grievous burn wounds. Still, we must've done something right 'cos he stopped his thrashing."
Rhaenyra looked back at the dragonkeeper and she finally noticed the marks on his robes, marks that she thought could well be from the man carrying the wounded, or the dead, from Caraxes' cave.
"…I see." Rhaenyra began slowly "What else? What is the present situation?"
"The dragons are no longer riled. 'Sually feeding them their favourites does the trick" the dragonkeeper said in a mirthless smile before he continued "But they are not calm."
"Caraxes?" Rhaenyra commented and the dragonkeeper nodded gravely.
"He will not let any of us approach. He is still furious." The elder dragonkeeper's hand went to his forehead and he looked visibly tense. "The chains…"
Rhaenyra's eyes widened at that. "What's wrong with the chains?" she quickly asked all whilst she looked beyond the man and towards the main entrance to the caves where the dragons lay.
"I did not see meself but a few of my 'keepers, the ones that weren't burnt too badly, said the chains are partially broken." The dragonkeeper said and after the man saw the shock on Rhaenyra's face, the man quickly continued "They still hold but if he was to get in a rage like before…"
"Mayhaps I can calm Caraxes. He knows me." Rhaenyra said as she began to move towards the entrance to the caves.
"Your Grace!" Ser Erryk called out and she found him quickly beside her. "Your fathe-"
"My father isn't here! I am." Rhaenyra said with a hint of anger in her voice which she wasn't sure where it was coming from but she cared not.
She narrowed her eyes at the two Kings Guard. "You have heard what the dragonkeeper said. The chains on Caraxes will not hold him for much longer if he acts up again and all of Kings Landing could be in danger! Do you think my father would be happy to know that his city is burning down?!"
The two Kings Guard looked at each other for a moment before the other twin spoke up, his eyes set in determination. "Your father would not want you to risk yourself, especially not now."
Rhaenyra's expression twisted as her anger rose but before she could speak, the elder dragonkeeper spoke up.
"Your Grace." She turned to face the man, her expression twisted in anger and the man bowed his head deeply. "Caraxes knows all of us dragonkeepers too, Your Grace, and it matters not to him. I fear if you go to him in his enraged state, you will not be spared his fury. Crown Princess or not. Targaryen or not."
Rhaenyra's expression twisted further into anger, and her hands clenched tightly.
'What does he know about being a Targaryen? Dragons know us. They know us, can sense our dragonblood. They would never attack us. Not even Caraxes.' Rhaenyra thought furiously, yet, despite all of her anger…she could see the sincerity and fear in the dragonkeeper's face, which doused her anger ever so slightly, enough for doubt to creep in.
'Caraxes wouldn't attack me…' she convinced herself. She had flown atop Silverwing with right beside her uncle on Caraxes. Many times.
The dragon even let her touch Caraxes, even if it had been in her uncle's presence.
'Careful, sweet little niece. My Caraxes is quite a fierce one and he doesn't take to anyone without my presence. Except for you, perhaps, little niece.' The memory of her uncle smirking at her as she braved to put on a hand on Caraxes' neck flashed at the forefront of her mind, a memory she remembered that also had her uncle stand right beside her in a way that she'd had thought was because he wanted to be near her but mayhaps…mayhaps it was because he was worried.
The dragonkeeper spoke up again, killing the long silence. "Give us the rest of the day, Your Grace. The…break in the bond is…fresh. Caraxes should calm by then."
"How do you know that?" Rhaenyra found herself asking, and she surprised to hear her voice bereft of anger.
"It happened with your grandsire's mount, Your Grace. Vhagar was unrestful on the day Prince Baelon died but by the eve, she had calmed down enough to be fed." The dragonkeeper answered and Rhaenyra looked away from the dragonkeeper and for a long moment she was silent.
Finally, she spoke up. "I will go see Silverwing." Rhaenyra said in a non-negotiable tone and she began to walk towards the entrance.
"Of course, Your Grace."
Rhaenyra pretended not to hear the relieved tone in the man's voice.
Hours later…
The dragonkeepers words about Caraxes proved to be accurate, for the entire duration she'd been with Silverwing – who had been unrestful too but had calmed in her presence – she heard nothing from the deeper within the pit where she knew Vermithor and Caraxes were, though she had not stayed for much longer, not when guards had been sent to the Dragonpit to fetch her on her father's orders.
Her father had regained his wits, it seemed.
She made her way through the Red Keep, frenzied in the same way it had been on the day of her wedding but entirely differently, and it felt as if a cloud of gloom had befallen her family's keep.
She'd debated with herself whether or not she needed to go to her husband…Baelon, or if she needed to go to her father. In the end, she decided to go to her father, and she quieted the voice in her head that told her why she was cowering away from seeing her new husband, and she had to shake her head to banish the memory of the rage and pain she saw contorted on Baelon's face.
She made her way towards the Small Council and, after a moment in which she steeled herself, she walked through the doors, past the guards, and she came across the Small Council in full attendance…with the exception of her father and the grandmaester. The men in the council room became silent upon her entrance, with Lords Beesbury and Lord Wylde looking down and away from her.
"Princess…" Lord Strong began but Rhaenyra was quick to interject.
"Where is my father?" she demanded to know.
Lord Strong exchanged looks with Lord Beesbury and the silence and the looks made the ember of anger within her grow into full blown anger but before she could speak up and repeat herself, again, as she oft was made to do when she was permitted amongst the Small Council, Lord Corlys spoke up.
"His Grace is in his solar, Princess." Lord Corlys said before his expression changed slightly, a mild look of pity on his face. "You have my condolences for the loss of Prince Daemon."
Rhaenyra stiffened slightly and she forced herself, with great effort, to nod stiffly.
"Thank you, Lord Corlys." Rhaenyra said with forced calm at the unneeded reminder that she lost her uncle…her goodfather, and she thought with bitter sadness that threatened to rise to grow into something more, an irreplaceable loss.
She forced all of what she felt, all of what she was stifling dearly, into an anger as she turned her eyes towards the Lord Hand. "Has the traitor been executed?" She barely managed to keep the venom out of her words but it seemed like she had not managed as well as she could have, for the Lord Hand's eyebrows rose in surprise.
The man quickly recovered. "He has not, Your Grace. He remains in the Black Cells." The Lord Hand's voice was calm and quiet, in the way that it always was but the way he looked…
He looked grim, she thought.
"Why not? He killed a Prince of the Blood! Your Prince. It is high treason!" she said angrily as she got closer to the Small Council table.
Why hadn't her father made sure the man died, painfully, for what he has done?
After her uncle defeated the man in the joust, fairly, the Darry traitor called for a continuance in combat in arms and from the moment the duel began, it was clear from the very beginning that the man had complete intent to kill her uncle.
"Ser Benfrey Darry defeated Prince Daemon in legitimate contest." Lord Wylde, the Master of Laws said after the Lord Hand's eyes fell upon him.
"He struck a blow before my uncle could yield!" Rhaenyra said in a rage that she could no longer contain, and she felt her eyes water. She cared not. After the traitor had disarmed her uncle, he'd immediately struck at her uncle, twice, in quick succession, the first to lay her uncle on his back and the second to stick his sword through her uncle's neck. "How was that a legitimate contest? He sought to kill my uncle from the beginning! That is treason!" Rhaenyra only barely managed to stop herself from continuing, from levying accusation that she couldn't prove. Not yet.
That man…the way he fought…though she was no expert when it came to skill in arms, she had seen enough duels and melees and more, to know when one was skilled and when one was not.
This Ser Darry…he was good. Better than good. Perhaps even better than the Lord Commander and that half-dornish dog the Hightowers keep chained to themselves.
But it was the first time she'd ever seen that man. The first time he'd ever fought in a tourney her father threw and her father threw tourneys every year, practical-
Her eyes widened slightly and she felt a great degree of glee surge within her.
Her father always threw tourneys and ever after the tourney her father had thrown for her…true brother…a tourney that caused a great deal of bloodshed and death, her father had forbidden contests of swords from being to the death.
"My father forbade contests of swords from being to the death. This Darry knight disobeyed my father's, his King, direct orders." Rhaenyra got close to the Small Council table and she stared, daringly, at the Lord Hand. "That is enough cause for execution, my Lord Hand." Rhaenyra said with no small measure of anger despite having controlled herself more after she got to the right solution to kill the man for what he did.
It would not be enough. It would never be enough, for her uncle was worth so much more than a measly Riverlands knight, but it was a start.
Lord Wylde exchanged looks with the Lord Hand and it was the Lord Hand who spoke up, a weary look on his face. "His Grace did not make the call this time, Princess." The man said in a commiserating tone of voice and her retort was stifled on the tip of her tongue, barely, as the man gestured her to let him continue.
"However" the Lord Hand looked towards the Master of Laws who Rhaenyra saw nod lightly before the Lord Hand looked at her. "It can be argued that His Grace had made the call enough times to make it known his preference."
"So he can die for treason." Rhaenyra pressed and it felt like her heart was in her throat.
"Even if the charge of treason is doubled" Lord Corlys was the one to speak up and she turned to look at the man. "The Darry knight will demand a Trial of Seven if this goes to trial." Lord Corlys scoffed as he gestured lazily.
"He threatened as much as he was thrown into the Black Cells."
"No one would dare stand with him in a Trial of Seven." Lord Beesbury commented with a heavy frown.
"A Trial by Combat then." Lord Corlys said in answer as she watched the man eye Lord Beesbury. "Either way, he will not go quietly to his death."
Rhaenyra's eyes widened and Rhaenyra fell into a deep silence at those words, a great fear gripping her heart.
Baelon…
She knew, she knew, from the deepest pit in her heart, that Baelon would demand to be one of the Champions, or in the case of a trial by combat, the Champion against the traitor.
She turned around and walked away from the Small Council table, and she made way towards her father's solar, her heart thumping in her chest now that the weight of it all was descending on her.
She was not a fool.
She knew that her…uncle's death was not good in many, many ways for her.
She loved her uncle. And, at times, she thought she might have loved her uncle in…a different way but always, always, she thought her uncle was always going to be there for her when she needed him. As Baelon's betrothed. As Baelon's wife. As the mother of her uncle's grandchildren.
And that was something she never thought she would be without, even when she'd lived under the thumb of the Hightower whore and her cunt of a father who barely could look at her without contempt and dismissal in his eyes.
She knew…she knew that she could depend on her uncle from stopping the Hightowers from ever daring to think to usurp the throne from her.
And with him dead now…
How can her uncle do this…leave Baelon…leave her…
Her hands clenched and she felt as if her heart was pounding through her chest and she barely realised when she arrived at her father's solar which was guarded by the Lord Commander and three other guards.
The Lord Commander moved fully in front of the door as she approached, and when she met the man's gaze with angry, tearful eyes, she saw only apology on his face. "Your father has given orders to be left alone, Your Grace."
"I am his heir. I demand to see my father." Rhaenyra said with a raised chin, anger and fear blooming in her heart. "Move aside, ser."
The Lord Commander only shook his head slightly. "He ordered that none shall be allowed to see him. Not even his heir, Your Grace." The man's voice took on a quiet and apologetic note but Rhaenyra had no time for it as she looked towards the door, anger and disappointment warring inside of her.
Her father…
She stepped back, tears in her eyes, and, without saying a single word, she walked away from her father's solar, and towards her royal wing of the holdfast, where she hoped she would find Baelon, her two Kings Guard following in pursuit.
She finds Ser William standing guard at the doors to her chambers, and she was unsure if she felt relieved or wary, perhaps both, at the thought that Baelon was in there.
"He's in there with cousin Rhea, Your Grace." Was his answer and with those words, she got her answer too as to what she felt.
Rhaenyra turned to her Kings guards. "Stay here." She said whilst she opened the door and entered the chamber where she found Baelon sitting by the table with his head in his hands with his goodmother Lady Rhea standing by the window, her arms cross and a worried frown on her face as she looked at Rhaenyra.
"Baelon…" Rhaenyra began, her voice quiet, and she found herself unable to say anything more as she stood rooted at the spot.
The only reaction she saw from Baelon to her voice was his hands clutching tighter around his head and Rhaenyra looked towards Lady Rhea. Their eyes met and, for a moment, she thought she saw disapproval in the woman's eyes but she couldn't tell for sure because her goodmother had shaken her head before she begun to move towards Baelon.
"I will be outside with cousin William, Baelon." Lady Rhea said gently to her son as she placed her hand on his shoulder, a moment that lingered, before she walked away and walked towards Rhaenyra.
She stopped beside Rhaenyra. "You should not have left him." Lady Rhea said in an even voice though it was low enough that only Rhaenyra could hear and before Rhaenyra could say anything, her goodmother walked away from her and out of the door, leaving behind only Rhaenyra and Baelon.
'I had to leave.' She wanted to say. 'The dragons needed me' but she never really knew how to talk with her goodmother. Even before she became her goodmother.
They had little in common and the stories she heard about the woman from her uncle, and the names her uncle called her…
It seemed unlikely she'd ever had anything in common with the woman. Except Baelon. And Rhaenyra could sense that her goodmother really did not like her much at all and she really did not like that even if she never said a single wrong thing about Baelon's mother to him.
She doubted the Hightower whore and her collection of lickspittles refrained from doing so however…
She shook her head clear and she sighed silently before she steeled herself and walked towards Baelon. "Baelon…" Rhaenyra tried again but again Baelon did not look up and she felt a little frustrated by his behaviour.
"How could he die?" she was startled by the murmurs of Baelon, and she watched him lift up his face that had been masked by the curls of his hair, and she lost a bit of her breathe at the pain that was on his face.
"He fought in the Stepstones, Rhaenyra. He fought against a hundred different men, all of them trying to kill him but he never died. He never allowed himself to die. Only to die against a…." Baelon's face contorted with pain as his eyes closed.
Rhaenyra felt her eyes water, the words spoken by Baelon touching deep within her. She felt the same. How dare Daemon die? In the tourney thrown in the celebration of her wedding?
It was bad enough the Hightower whore made a spectacle of herself but now…
Everyone would always talk about the death of her uncle at the tourney thrown in celebration of her wedding. And she knew the Hightower whore would do her seven damnedest to twist into something that resembled as the Gods showing their disapproval at her. At her and Baelon.
"I don't know." Rhaenyra said as tears fell from her eyes, tears that came from anger, from grief, and from fear as well, and she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't know. Why it happened. How it could have happened." She looked back to meet Baelon's eyes. The same eyes that belonged to her uncle, eyes that she could see were wet but somehow did not pool and fall, and she grabbed hold of his face with her two hands and she watched as he closed his eyes at the touch of her hands, causing Rhaenyra to smile a little despite everything.
She was growing fonder of Baelon.
Ever since that talk in that pavilion, they had gotten to know each other, really gotten to know each other, and she could see herself truly loving him. She could see her uncle in Baelon but she could see that he was unlike most of the other leeches that stared at her wantonly.
Perhaps it was because he was still just a boy, a boy that knew little, naïve, perhaps not with matters of intrigue with how he'd surprised her with his remarks, but certainly in other ways, like how he underestimated the treachery of the Hightowers. Nonetheless Baelon would be a good husband to her, she knew.
But she needed more than a good husband. She needed an ally that could fill the hole that her uncle left…in both of their lives. The Hightowers will come for her, she knew, and would not be stopped now with the death of her uncle.
"I promise you, we'll see uncle Daemon avenged. This Darry traitor and the ones who ordered him to kill him." Rhaenyra said in a serious tone of voice and Baelon's eyes snapped open with angry shock and, surprisingly, suspicion in his eyes.
Rhaenyra pressed. "You saw it too, my love. The way the Darry knight attacked uncle Daemon. He wanted to kill him from the beginning." She said persistently and Baelon yanked his head free from her hands and he stood up and stepped from her.
Rhaenyra rose to her full height and did not flinch under Baelon's gaze, a gaze was set upon a hard and angry face that did not move at all during the long moments of silence that passed, moments that made Rhaenyra nervous and fearful that she mis-stepped.
"You're only guessing." Baelon finally said, breaking the silence, and it was more of a statement than it was anything else, and she knew that tone of voice. She'd heard him use it a number of times when he was forcing himself to be calm.
"I am." Rhaenyra admitted. "It could be just a coincidence but I don't think so because why? Why would he want kill the brother of the King? I don't know any reason why the Darrys would have to be angry with uncle Daemon."
Baelon's expression broke and he looked away from her, his teeth clenching, his hands too. She knew that Baelon had thought about it. It was impossible not to. To think the Hightowers had something to do with it. She had heard Daemon say plenty of things about the Hightowers in her and Baelon's presence.
No doubt her uncle would have done more in private too.
"I will force it out of him in the trial by combat." Baelon said as he looked towards her, his face etched in anger and Rhaenyra's eyes widened.
"Yo-" "Why shouldn't I? Is it not my right?" Baelon said, cutting her off and Rhaenyra felt herself clenching her fists at his words, her anger rising like fire within her.
"So you want to get yourself killed." Rhaenyra found herself saying with bitter and breathless anger in her voice and she barely managed to stop herself from wounding his childish pride by adding the word 'stupidly'.
Baelon looked at her with anger in his eyes. "I will defeat him. Kill him. My father's killer will not die by no sword but that of mine. He would want me to." Rhaenyra then realised that Baelon was only saying those words.
For all that Baelon was angry, for all that he desired vengeance, she knew that Baelon wasn't stupid. She knew that Baelon realised that he could not yet defeat a knight of the calibre of the traitor.
"No he wouldn't." Rhaenyra said quietly. "You know it too. Your father would want to make sure you sit beside me on that throne, Baelon." Rhaenyra stepped closer to Baelon, her chin raised. "And you're only still just a squire. My father will not let you fight against him. And if I have to, I will order the guards to keep you here until after the trial to make sure you don't."
This set Baelon off and he got close to her, very close, his expression full of anger.
"I am your lord husband."
"And I am the Crown Princess, the future ruling Queen of the Realm. Wife or not." Rhaenyra returned heatedly which did not faze Baelon and she forced herself to calm down before she stepped closer to Baelon and she placed a hand on his shoulder, which she let fall down across his arm until her hand took hold of his.
"You're not ready, Baelon…and you know it too." Rhaenyra said quietly before her hand was placed on his cheek. "And it is what they would want." Rhaenyra said even quieter, as if she was concerned their words could be overheard.
"You saw what they did at our wedding…what she did."
Baelon looked away from her.
"'The beacon glows green when Oldtown calls its banner to war'" Baelon said in a mirthless tone of voice despite his face clouding over.
"The lines have been drawn…Baelon." Rhaenyra said quietly as she stepped closer and placed her forehead on his. It wouldn't be long before he outgrew her. She heard him sigh and she placed her hand on her belly. "They will come for us…I know it…I know it. Your father…he knew it. I…" Rhaenyra said as she pulled his hand with his onto her belly and she felt his breathe grow stilted.
"I need you…we..." Rhaenyra trailed off and she met his gaze head on, and her bottom lip wavered slightly as she felt her emotions take hold over. Her father…
Without Daemon…could she really depend on her father? It was Daemon who helped her with Dragonstone. It was Daemon who made sure that her father did not keep her out of the Small Council. It was Daemon who was her most ardent supporter.
Her father…
Her father had rarely done much for her in preparation for her ascendancy to Queenship and she had always felt as if he was doing less than the minimum because he had no real wish to keep his promise and keep her as heir, always wondering if her father was going to throw her aside for his Hightower children…
She felt his hand tighten around her belly and Baelon separated himself from her forehead and she stared into his violet eyes. "You have me, Rhaenyra. Since the day I was born." Baelon's expression grew harder. "And if they truly had a hand in my father's death…they will face justice for their treachery." His expression broke up, cycling through a series of complicated emotions.
"Even if I must be patient for now."
It was not exactly what she wanted to hear but the words still caused her to feel a great deal of relief. She nodded at those words before she grew a little wary.
She did not really want to but…
She thought it would likely help him. Like it helped her.
Seeing her mother, even if her body was wrapped up in garments with only her face showing, before Rhaenyra was made to set her mother's body on fire…
It helped her even if she had not know it at the time with how young she'd been.
"We should…we should see your father. Before he's…set to full rest." Rhaenyra said softly to him and she watched Baelon clenched his teeth before he stiffly nodded.
Her Kings Guard followed their steps as they made their way towards the mortuary and they arrived at the doors of the mortuary where there were several guards, including the guards of uncle Aegon, something that she saw irritate Baelon as he quickened his steps and entered the mortuary.
And right there, standing either side of her uncle Daemon's body, was her other uncle and, surprisingly, Archmaester Vaegon, their granduncle, the one she never knew lived until he'd shown up to the Red Keep a few weeks ago.
Her uncle had said the man was a boorish cunt with the charms of a wet spoon and the few times the man dined with her family, at her father's persuasion, she could not help but agree that her granduncle was an ill-mannered, stuck-up bore.
No wonder he found his place amongst dusty books…
Both of them looked towards them and Rhaenyra thought it strange with how similar the both of them looked in that moment, a look of nothing on their faces.
"Why are you here?" Baelon's voice is harsh. "Uncle." Baelon added, the word said with the same harshness.
Rhaenyra wasn't surprised by the harshness.
Her uncle had been in Kings Landing more than a week now but unless Baelon had sought out their uncle separately, which she could not imagine he would have, they'd only spoken on only three occasions and the time that the most words were exchanged, was on the night they dined together, a night that wasn't one of warmth, much because of Rhaenyra, she begrudgingly admitted to herself.
And perhaps she should have restrained herself a little, especially with the rumours about the possible betrothal between Aemond and one of Aegon's children after the fostering was done…
But then her father had confided in her and uncle Daemon the terrible capitulating agreements he reached with her other uncle, a betrayal of the worst kind.
Effectively allowing her uncle to become King, and despite the denials of her father to uncle Daemon's words, she believed that her uncle Aegon had full intention on becoming a King, something that her father would not hear at all.
Why else would he want independence from the Crown, from her father…from her when it was her time?
After that dinner, it hadn't been easy to find an opportunity to try and…get close to her uncle, especially as days after that dinner she'd learnt the Hightowers were making their play with her uncle Aegon, something that none of them liked at all.
And Baelon…well he did not really want to speak with their uncle after Daemon had warned them off, claiming that there was something wrong with him…
Her uncle's expression did not change as he spoke. "He was your father but he was my brother." It was then her uncle sighed heavily. "Whether or not either of us liked it much." Her uncle then looked towards Daemon a long moment before he turned around and began to walk towards them.
Her uncle stopped right in front of Baelon, his expression seemed to change, soften. "I am sorry Daemon died. Your father deserved much more than this…" she watched as Baelon clenched his teeth as he met their uncle's gaze, a gaze that followed their uncle Aegon when he walked away from them without another word said.
Her eyes then veered towards her granduncle who also began to make way for the doors but the eldest male living Targaryen spoke once before he left. "Take heed. It takes only one misstep. My brother Aemon found that out as did several of my sisters." Rhaenyra stiffened at the words, words that she knew was unfinished 'as did Daemon', and whilst she stiffened, Baelon instead grew thunderous at the words but neither of them moved to stop the dour man from leaving, even if she wanted to scratch out the man's eyes for his words.
When the man left the mortuary chamber, Rhaenyra sneered a little as she spoke.
"I can't wait for them to leave and never return." Rhaenyra said with a scoff but it seemed Baelon paid her words little mind for he started to walk towards his father's body and Rhaenyra's expression softened at the sight.
She walked up to him as he stood beside the table on which Daemon's body lay on, and she pushed her hand into his. His hand tightened around hers and she felt a measure of relief at the act as her gaze went full towards her uncle's face and her breath hitched at the proper sight of his face.
"He looks so…" Rhaenyra trailed off, her eyes watering, and Baelon made a noise from the back of his throat.
"Aye…" Baelon only said and she could feel as much as she could hear the sharp intake of breathe from Baelon. "It doesn't suit father, that…look."
There was a kind of deadness in Baelon's voice, one that forced her to look upon him and she saw his eyes water even if his face was stone-faced.
"No, it doesn't. The missing smirk feels wrong." Rhaenyra said softly and it caused Baelon to react as his expression broke into a half-smile and her husband turned to look at her. She reached to him and placed her hand on his cheek before she leaned in and kissed him on the lips.
"I'm here for you…" Rhaenyra said and the look she got from him told her that Baelon was hers now…truly hers.
Later…
They returned their royal wing within the holdfast and it was where she was asked to be spoken with by her goodmother, something that made her wary.
After the doors closed to her chambers as Baelon left with Ser William, it was then the look on her goodmother's face changed into one of grim seriousness.
"You do understand what my husband's death means for you, do you not?" Lady Rhea was blunt in her words and Rhaenyra felt a flash of irritation.
"Of course I do." Rhaenyra scowled out. "But it changes nothing. I will still be Heir and there is nothing anyone can do about that." Rhaenyra said with her arms crossing. "My father loved uncle Daemon. Almost as much as he loves me. He wouldn't do anything to harm his memory."
She wouldn't allow herself to think anything else…nor would she ever give it up.
Not now. Not ever.
Her goodmother stared at her for a long while before an edge of contempt flashed across her face. "It changes everything, gooddaughter. Daemon, for all that he was -" her goodmother said with a mild scowl on her face and Rhaenyra was reminded of all the times that her uncle called her his 'Bronze Bitch', something Rhaenyra couldn't help but think of her callous goodmother in this very moment.
"- he also was a man that was respected as he was feared. He was your best supporter, and someone others would have rallied to." Her goodmother said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Rhaenyra. "And with his death…you are exposed. My son is exposed." Her goodmother bit out and Rhaenyra could sense there was bitterness in those words.
"And what is it you want me to do about that?" Rhaenyra couldn't help but retort her arms falling by her sides. "Do you think I don't know all of that? Do you think I am not aware that the traitors are celebrating my uncle's death, your husband's death, at this very moment?"
Lady Rhae smiled thinly. "Then you also know that they are only one death away from the throne for them to be without challenge." Rhaenyra's eyes widened at those callous, cold words and Rhaenyra felt an anger soar, even if there was also a great deal of fear among it.
"They wouldn't dare."
Lady Rhea looked at her with a glint of contempt in her eyes. "Yes they would…and you know it too. You would be a fool girl not to see it otherwise." Lady Rhea breathed in heavily before she continued. "From now on, you will not drink, you will not eat, not without one of the servant girls I brought from Runestone tasting it for you. She will serve as your food and drink taster from now on."
"I will do no such thing. I will have my own servants." Rhaenyra said with narrowing eyes. "Do not forget yourself, Lady Rhea. I am the heir to the Iron Throne. You do not order me."
"I do not, no, but I can make your life even more difficult than it already is, Your Grace." Lady Rhea said without missing a single beat. "I command House Royce and my late father has served as Lord Regent to Jeyne Arryn who is a close friend of mine. Who is also married to Laenor Velaryon, the other House of dragonriders." Lady Rhea said with a grim smile as she stepped closer to Rhaenyra whose eyes widened greatly.
"And then there is my son. The young man who I raised, and now…his only parent. You would be wise not to discard the most valuable ally you have."
"Jeyne Arryn is my cousin. She would support me nonetheless." Rhaenyra bit out, unwilling as she was to back down from this woman who was insignificant the day before. "And your son is my consort-husband. He would not betray me for you."
"A cousin you have only met when she came to your wedding." Lady Rhea said with a thin smile. "She might favour you, of course, but then Velaryon neutrality may sound a better path to take for her Kingdom. Being kin, after all, has not always been the binding stones people like to think it is."
"And my son…" Lady Rhea's hard look faded slightly "My son is taken with you. This, I cannot deny. But if you do not act to change your perilous circumstance…"
"You would betray your own son?" Rhaenyra asked with angry disbelief on her face.
"I would protect him." Lady Rhea only said with her expression hardening. "Do not think I care for that damned throne, girl. If I had my way, Baelon would be Baelon Royce and be done with your family and your games. I would say he would have been the happier for it."
"Then it is good fortune that you did not have your way to deny him his heritage." Rhaenyra bit out and she refrained, barely, from saying what she really wanted to say. That the Bronze Bitch would never have dared to say these words when her uncle still lived.
Lady Rhea only smiled before she looked directly into her eyes. "So will you accept my generous offer?"
Rhaenyra gritted her teeth for a long moment as she met the Bronze Bitch's gaze. "Your son, as you say, is taken with me. What is to stop me from telling him that you're plotting against me, against him?"
"Would Baelon believe you? Now?" Lady Rhea said with a tilted head. "And am I really plotting against you, Rhaenyra, or am I making sure that you aren't accidentally finding your way into death?"
To that, Rhaenyra found herself silenced for a moment.
"My servants are trustworthy."
"Your servants live in a Red Keep managed by your stepmother." Lady Rhea said with an arched brow. "Your guards, your knights, even your Small Council…there is divided loyalties here, Rhaenyra." Lady Rhea said with thinned lips.
"Your father keeps those divided loyalties at bay but he will not always be able to do that, especially if his illness becomes much worse, especially after he dies. You have a need to protect yourself and ensure you do not give them an opportunity to allow yourself to get usurped. And you have to start that by making sure that the loyalties of those around you is unquestionable." Lady Rhea then looked towards her belly and Rhaenyra stepped back a little.
"And most importantly…you must have your heirs and have them soon."
"I'm not a broodmare." Rhaenyra bit out and Lady Rhea sighed heavily before she eyed Rhaenyra with a strange look on her face.
"You will have to be. Your stepmother has ensured that you have to be lest you lose out on alliances because they offered the hands of your siblings first."
Rhaenyra clenched her hands. "Leave me." Rhaenyra bit out as she looked away from her goodmother.
Her goodmother did not move for a long few moments but when she moved to depart, she did not do so without saying one last thing. "I will send the servant girl Gella to you within the hour. She's a good girl. Clever too. She'll serve you well."
When the doors to her chambers closed Rhaenyra let out a stifled noise that was half a scream and a half cry. Before she knew it, she felt herself sitting atop her bed and it felt like as if the entire world was pressing down on her.
And never before, not since her mother died, did she feel as alone as she did in this moment in time.
-Break-
Mid to Late 114 AC – Kings Landing
Alicent POV
"Father." Alicent said with relief in her voice as her father was being led into her room by Ser Criston Cole.
Her father had been staying with the rest of her family in a manse by the Iron Gate in the noble's quarter, despite having gotten her father permission to reside in the Red Keep. Getting him here had been a three day effort, with the Lord Commander and the other Kings Guard all but locking down the Red Keep.
Her father looked at her for a moment before he looked away and towards her children who were present in the far side of the room with her brother Gwayne, save for Jaehaerys who was with the wetnurses in the room connected to this royal chambers.
"Daughter." Her father said as he reached her, his hands now gently on either side of her arms, a scrutinous look on his face. "How is the King?"
The question took her aback for a moment but she found her speaking without a thought. "He's torn with grief." She said before she quickly recovered and added more when she saw the frown on her father's face. "He's locked himself in his solar." He'd only once got out of his solar and that'd been for the hastened trial…
"Hmm." Her father only said after a moment and another moment passed before he spoke again. "The King loved his brother more than that man deserved." Her father said and she could see a glimmer of satisfaction showing in his eyes.
Satisfaction that she was not certain was only meant for the death of the greatest threat to her children…and not something more.
Her father let go of her arms and stared intently into her eyes. "Do you know anything about why Ser Benfrey Darry confessed to the charges of treason?"
Alicent's eyes widened before she shook her head.
The man confessed this morn, the day after the death of Daemon, to the jailors and had done so again to the Master of Laws and the Lord Hand before the man was quickly brought out in front of the court and confessed to the King himself.
"Only that Prince Aegon had visited the man and spoke to the man in private." Alicent said lowly and her father's eyes widened at those words. She quickly continued. "Ser Benfrey did not look as if he had been tortured he did look defeated and resigned as he confessed his treason."
Not once did the man look up from the ground as he'd spoken about how he wanted to be known for slaying the famous Prince Daemon, his sole motivation.
He would have been hanged less than an hour ago in her estimation…
"I see…" Her father said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"What" Alicent began "What do you think he said to him to make him confess?"
Her father looked grim and only after a long pause did he explain. "A man like Aegon who has seen innumerable noble Houses extinguished, as wretched as they may have been, would find no compunction in extinguishing one more."
Alicent looked aghast at her father for a moment for before she took control over herself. She glanced at Ser Criston, whose expression darkened greatly at those words for it was something that hit close to his heart, before she looked back at her father. "You really think he would have done that? Viserys wouldn't have let him get away with it. He would have to answer for carrying that out."
"He is meant to leave sooner rather than later. The death of his brother only added a few days. He is perfectly placed to carry out the deed without consequences…at least to himself." Her father explained and Alicent was quiet to that, her eyes falling. She didn't think her father was right…
"You disagree." Her father said and she was startled into meeting his studious gaze.
"Why threaten him with such a…heinous act? Why not agree to the Trial by Combat? With what we know of him, he should be a very skilled swordsman. And Ser Darry is injured and I am doubtful many would choose to be his Champion."
His victory would have been assured.
And Aegon seemed like a pious man, regardless of what some of her kin thought of him and the rumours that the Grandmaester helped make.
Her father looked at her with what she understood as faint approval. "Why indeed…" Her father let off a faint noise before he continued. "Because it changes the story, Alicent." Her father said with a grim look in his eyes. "Instead of it being a contest that Prince Daemon lost, it becomes a contest that was fought with the full intent to slay one of the Princes of the blood."
Her eyes widened. "The narrative…it saves Prince Daemon's reputation."
"Indeed." Her father said with a light nod before a faint smile broke out on his face. "It changes nothing however. This…this is a victory for us." Her father's expression shifted and a serious look overcame his face.
"You must be careful now, Alicent. We are in a much better position than we were only a few days ago but we must still be careful."
Alicent nodded slightly. To say she was relieved that Daemon was dead would be an understatement. She had nightmares about the man, who taunted her with every opportunity he had, even going so far as doing it in public in front of the eyes of the lords and the smallfolk.
It was fitting that his death was made right in front of their eyes…
Still, she had one question she really wanted to know an answer to, and she leaned forward, the words spoken in a whisper. "Was he one of ours?"
Her father's expression took on a hard look, his eyes a sight of cold disregard. "Don't be a fool, daughter." Her father's voice dripped with disappointment.
"Think. It is too soon to act in such an obvious way. Aegon is still just a boy."
Her father then let out a tiny mirthless laugh. "No, this was merely the Gods showing us their favour…even if it at an inopportune moment." Her father made a noise from the back of his throat. "At least he died a befitting death."
Her father then sighed wearily before he met her gaze. "Daemon's sudden death, in a duel that should never have gotten out of hand, leaves the realm in chaos. You tell me the King is in grief?"
"Yes. He couldn't wait to leave the throne room as soon as the trial was over." Alicent admitted. Her husband looked so pale and he was now walking with a walking stick, the illness he had seemed to take on a much worse turn.
Her father's expression took on a look of disapproval and disappointment. And, Alicent thought, of concern. "Your children are but babes. They are not ready and will not be ready for years to come. Viserys…he cannot die." Her father's tone of voice was quiet and Alicent's breath hitched. "He must not die and you must ensure that he does not, not until Aegon is ready to take was is owed him."
It was nothing that she disagreed with, that she must endure with Viserys and that she must endure for Aegon…for her children so that they have what they are owed but with Daemon dead…hasn't the situation changed? Couldn't they be more…
"Father…"
"No Alicent." Her father's tone of voice was stern as his hands took hold of her shoulders. "Daughter." Her father's tone of voice was more gentle at that point, something that continued as he spoke further. "You must kill the girl and let the Queen be born. Daemon no longer lives to terrorise you or threaten you but his spawn and that spoilt girl still live and they still threaten you and your children."
Alicent swallowed dryly and under the gaze of her father, she remained silent. Her father nodded slightly. "Good. You understand. Rhaenyra is nothing but a spoilt girl with nothing to support her but Baelon and his mother." Her father breathed in heavily before he spoke again, his hands falling from her shoulders, his eyes drilling into her.
"It is time now, daughter. Be the Queen I always envisioned you capable of being."
Alicent found herself nodding and found herself standing a little taller at the rare faith her father showed in her. "Yes father."
Her father smiled then, full approval in his eyes though the moment didn't last long before his eyes veered towards her children.
"Have you resolved the issue regarding my second grandson?" Her father asked and Alicent turned to look at her children who were with Gwayne.
"I spoke with him this morn. He has listened. He won't send Aemond away any more." This caused her almost as much happiness as watching her tormentor die.
It had been a betrayal by her husband. To give away her son without even a single word, worse than even the betrayal of keeping her in the dark about the agreements he'd reached with Aegon which he'd found no problem sharing with Daemon and Rhaenyra as soon as he could…
He'd been steadfast on the course, fostering Aemond with Aegon before eventually marrying Rhaena, Aegon's daughter, but she managed to plead with him this morning, finally.
Days after Daemon's death, with Viserys still weak and full of grief, he had been more than receptive to her imploration that their son should remain. That Aemon was too young and that Aegon needed his younger brother. Her husband relented then, no doubt thinking of the loss of a brother could feel like to their Aegon.
"Good, good." Her father looked immensely pleased with this outcome. "It is more important now than ever that Aemond remains with us and gets Caraxes for us."
"Viserys still is intent on keeping the betrothal however. Do you think we should still pursue it?" Alicent asked her father.
Her father then looked towards, his eyes piercing into hers. "Yes." Her father said after a long moment of silence. "Aegon is a dangerous man…one who is unlikely to be as noble and as pious as he has made himself out to be to the nobility. It is important that we tie his line to ours if the Velaryons continue to be difficult."
"Has uncle found out more about the…magic?" she asked, whispering the last word in her sentence.
"No." Her father said with a look of hardness on his face. "No more than what we already know." She knew he spoke of the curtain of blue fire that had washed over Myr which remained, it seemed, something that all of the witnesses had said was real.
She had thought that it was no more than exaggeration of the flames of the dragon that Aegon rode but the look on her father's face told her that he was not convinced by such a thought.
"The matter of heresy however…that is something that has been dismissed." Her father said to her and Alicent found herself smiling a little at that.
Her father's expression fell into a frown. "What the former enslaved and ignorant believe is no matter to the Faith and Aegon has disavowed the notions that he is a prophet enough times that the matter is considered settled by the High Septon."
"Nevertheless" Her father continued with a grave note to his voice. "Do not think him a pious man, Alicent. Nor think of him as anything other than more dangerous than Daemon ever was and that he has an entire land free from the Realm worshipping him more than they worship our Gods." Her father sighed heavily.
"Had I known that Aegon would not reject it immediately, I would have pushed for your eldest boy to be wed to his daughter Rhaena." Her father said and the words surprised her.
"I thought you wished we marry Aegon to Heleana" Her expression twisted slightly at the grave sin she was pushing onto her children "to bolster Aegon's image as the true heir to the Iron Throne?"
Her father made a noise in the back of the throat before he spoke again. "The same can be achieved with a daughter of the last daughter of Jaehaerys the Conciliator."
At that, Alicent remained silent.
"But all of that is only a secondary to ensuring we have the numbers we need should Viserys remain obstinate to the right course of action." Her father said after a long moment of silence and she thought she could hear the accusation in his voice, as if he held her responsible for making her husband be more of a fool than he already was.
After another long moment of silence, her father placed his hand on her shoulder. "I must go now. We're leaving for Oldtown on the morn."
"I see." Alicent said with a nod. The funeral for Daemon was to be on the morn and she was not surprised that her family was leaving at the same time.
"Keep me informed, daughter." Her father said before he walked up to Gwayne and exchanged a few words before he left their royal chambers.
The next day…
Alicent flinched, her hands tightening on the shoulders of her Aegon, as the giant beast known as Vermithor moved once more, its maw closer to the pyre on which Daemon's body was on.
"Mother…" Aegon whined quietly and she quickly removed her hands from her son's shoulders when she was tensing, and, instead, brought her thumb closer to her mouth, her teeth nibbling at the edge of her nail.
She watched as Baelon got closer to Vermithor and she flinched again when the huge beast let off a great plume of flame at the pyre, engulfing it all in a great fire.
A fire that seemed to consume the pyre within moments, and she felt herself pale a little at the sight.
These dragons…beasts…they were unnatural things. Beasts that haunted her dreams as much as Daemon did. The world would be better off without them, she'd long thought…
She heard her husband make a noise and she turned to see him, and saw his face miserably etched in pain and grief and she felt a small amount of pity for her husband.
Her eyes then caught Rhaenyra's, who stared directly at her with a look that masked nothing. She saw only anger in those eyes and Alicent did not waver to look back at the spoilt girl with unflinching eyes.
'The Gods are in my family's favour, girl…you will see that one day' Alicent thought as she smiled steely at Rhaenyra, an act that she saw take the girl aback but instead of cowing like she used when she was younger, Rhaenyra only took on a look of rage on her face, a look that surprised Alicent but as soon as the look arrived, the look disappeared as Rhaenyra looked away from her.
And Alicent looked away as well and looked towards the burning pyre. 'And just like that pyre, your usurpation will go up in smoke. I swear it…'
Days later…
"You can't leave!" Her son said petulantly with his little hands clumped into fists as he stared up defiantly at his uncle who looked vaguely amused at the antics.
Aegon the Elder crouched down so that he was at eye-level with his namesake.
"What about my own children and my wife? They are waiting for me." Aegon the Elder posed to her son and she was surprised to see the struggle on his face. She had been sure that he would misspeak and had been ready to intervene…
"They can come here! They can stay with us! Just like you!" her son said, again surprising her. 'He has really grown attached to him, hasn't he…' she thought to herself. In such a short period of time, her child, her children, Aemond and even Helaena who did not seem to mind his presence, had grown quickly used to him.
Aegon the Elder seemed to find it difficult to speak further and when she was about to intervene, her son spoke further. "Or I can come with you!"
She balked at that.
"Aegon…" She began warningly and she was beset with an unhappy face from her son. Still she continued. "You have your place here. This is your home. Your uncle has his own home as well."
"It doesn't have to be for long!" her son paused for a moment before he looked back at Aegon the Elder. "You can take all of us! Me, Aemond, Helaena. Even Jaehaerys!"
"Aegon, enough." This time there was a sternness in her tone of choice though it seemed like her son had gotten brave enough to act out with the way his body seemed to vibrate, ready to explode into a tantrum.
But before anything could happen, Aegon the Elder placed his hand on her son's shoulder, a saddened smile on his face and it took her aback, including the way he was looking at her son, as if he was struggling with something.
"I would wish it so, mini-me." Aegon the Elder said and there was great deal of solemnity in his voice, so much so that even her son was stilled by the tone of voice. "I have grown very fond of you and your siblings. You remind me much of mine own children." Aegon then placed his hand on top of her son's head, a soft scruffling as Aegon smiled at her son.
"But just because I am far away doesn't mean I will be gone or that I have forgotten you. You are my nephew, mini-me. One day, we will see each other again." Aegon said as he embraced her son and she was surprised to see her son grab hold of his uncle.
Aegon picked up her son and held him in his arms and she could see him whisper something in her son's ear and she moved closer but the shake of the head of her goodbrother stopped her from moving as Aegon continued to whisper in her son's ear.
Aegon the Elder then moved away his head, as did her son and her goodbrother raised his hand which formed into a fist excepting for the littlest finger on the hand. She remembered Aegon once telling a story about his own children to Aegon and to her other two eldest and what they did when they promised one another.
Her son sniffled but did the same. "I promise." Her son said as their littlest fingers hooked around each other.
"Good boy. I am proud of you, mini-me." Her goodbrother said with a smile on his face and she was surprised to see the sadness on her son's face wither away, if only slightly, as a smile bloomed on his face.
"Good." Aegon said before he placed her son back on the ground and she deeply curious – and concerned – about what he might have said to her son but she kept it hidden, for now, as she made her son go back deeper in the royal chamber.
"What did you tell him?" she asked when they were alone as she glanced over her shoulder and watched as her son rejoined Aemond and Helaena.
"Only what he needed to hear." Her goodbrother said and she looked back at him and she was surprised to see the change on his face, from gentle to neutral.
"Before I depart…I will tell you this, goodsister. I have refused the betrothal between our children." Alicent's eyes widened in shock but she quickly recovered as she stared him with a sense of non-understanding.
"Why?" she asked and Aegon gave her a faint thin smile that she barely could tell through his beard.
"Because I cherish my children. More than anything else in this world." Aegon looked away from her and towards her children. "Aemond is a good natured boy and could become a good man."
"He will be a good man." Alicent defended and Aegon looked back to meet her gaze.
"I hope so. I hope so for all of my nephews. However I will not allow anyone who I do not know, anyone I have not seen grow from a boy to a young man, marry my daughter. Any of my daughters. Their happiness means more to me than an advantageous marriage could ever hope to mean." Aegon said to her and Alicent looked away from his eye as she bit her lip.
"Viserys cannot be happy with this." She only said in answer.
"He isn't and nor am I truth be told." Aegon said and Alicent thought he might say more but he only hummed and she heard him move towards the doors although he paused in his steps and as he spoke, he did not turn to look at her.
"Sometimes doing the best for your children is against everything you or anyone else wants. Remember that, goodsister." Aegon said before he walked towards the door and soon after exited her chambers.
For a long moment she only stood there, watching the door.
It was only after she was broken out of her thoughts when she heard her children that she moved towards them.
After a little while, when she and Aegon were alone did she ask what Aegon the Elder said to her son.
"It's a secret." Her son said obstinately, his nose crinkled.
"You can share with me. I'm your mother." Alicent said gently, trying to keep out sternness from her voice.
"No. I will not tell." Aegon said and the look on his face made clear that unless she punished him, she would get nothing from her son.
"Go." Alicent said after a long moment of staring at her son who had looked away from her eyes and her son couldn't move quick enough to leave her.
She sighed heavily as she watched him go. 'I'll get it out of him another day…' she thought before she wondered how she would tell her father that Aegon's branch was looking like they might be out of reach…at least for now.
-Break-
Mid to Late 114 AC – Kings Landing
Viserys POV
Viserys continued to stare at his model of Old Valyria as his remaining brother was walked into his solar.
"Brother." He heard Aegon say but Viserys kept his eyes on the model of Old Valyria even as his brother stepped closer to him until finally he was beside Viserys.
They did not speak for a long time nor did Viserys look upon his brother during that entire time, his eyes searing into every little crevice of the model he built.
"Viserys…it is time for me to leave." His brother's tone of voice was quiet and it helped jog him out of his reverie.
"Did you know" Viserys began as his hand clenched tighter onto the walking stick "that when our father was made heir, I begun to dream about my rule." Viserys said as he looked towards the building where the Heads of the forty families assembled to govern.
"I dreamt that I would rule wisely, like our grandfather with you and Daemon, my two brothers on my Small Council to help me rule." Viserys said with a mirthless meaningless smile forming on his face. "The three Heads of the Dragon like the one that is on our banner." Viserys said as he glanced at his brother who he saw staring down at the model with a hard look on his face.
He'd hoped his rule to be one that would continue one the era of peace his grandsire brought forth, a rule that would be remembered.
And he'd been so hopeful when he was crowned King. So happy. So determined to see his rule as one that would be as fondly remembered that of his grandsire.
The only problem he had then was an heir born from himself and his dearest Aemma, the heir he'd seen in his dreams so, so many times.
He wanted him so much…he wanted his Aemon so badly…so much so that he killed her for it, not realising what he was losing in the process.
And now…
Daemon always cut him deeply. In ways no one else was capable of. His was insubordinate, arrogant, and caused as many problems and headaches as he caused joy in their family.
Viserys couldn't really stand his brother for too much, for too long and now…
He's cut him so deeply so as to feel as if he'd lost an entire arm.
And the way that he died…
Gods, Daemon…why did you have to die? And such a unbefitting matter?
Grief once again struck at him but before it could overwhelm him, his remaining brother spoke further. "Sometimes dreams don't come true, Viserys." His brother said in answer to him and Viserys let off a dry laugh. 'How true that is, brother.'
"Yes…" Viserys as he turned away from the model of Old Valyria and faced his brother properly and Aegon did the same.
Viserys stared into the sole eye of his brother's before he looked towards the silver eyepatch where once the eye he'd inherited from their mother resided, an eye that Aegon said had been scratched out by a beast in Tolos.
Aegon had been here for a fortnight and yet all that he could think of was that it might as well been only a few days, and Viserys found himself looking away from Aegon as a thought lodged itself in his head.
'I hoped to reunite the three sons of Baelon and instead I received a brother I do not know any more and a brother who is no more…'
"What did you say to that man?" Viserys found himself asking as a way to distract himself from his thoughts.
"If you're asking about Ser Benfrey Darry…I only told him the truth."
"The truth?"
"That there are consequences for harming my family and that I am not known to be forgiving of slights from people who do not matter to me." Aegon said and Viserys couldn't help but look at his brother and he could see the hardness in his eye.
Viserys closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded slowly. "I see…"
"Viserys…" He felt a hand on his shoulder and a soft squeeze as well and he opened his eyes and he saw his brother's eye lose its hardness and his expression looking saddened. "Take care of yourself, will you?" Aegon's tone of voice was gentle and Viserys couldn't help but break at that moment.
"He wasn't meant to die!" Viserys said with a pained note in his voice, and he and Aegon embraced one another. "He was meant to outlive me for years, decades!"
Aegon only held on tighter onto him as Viserys let his grief out. He truly believed that his brother would long outlive him, and see Rhaenyra's reign for years and decades after Viserys had passed.
Only to die in a meaningless contest at the hands of a traitor!
His father, his brother…why was it that their family was so cursed?
They held onto each other for a long moment before they parted and Viserys looked upon his brother's face and he was pained to see that though it was etched in sadness, there were no tears in his eye and the sight sobered him up.
"Aegon…I…"
"Don't worry about it." Aegon said with a faint smile before he sighed and looked towards the model. "I have the same thought. He wasn't meant to die. Not for a long time…" Viserys frowned a little at the way Aegon said those words. There was a note of anger in his voice but he couldn't quite tell what the anger was for.
"Stay a little longer." Viserys found himself asking and the words seemed to surprise Aegon who looked back at him.
Viserys pressed on. "Just for a month. I could use your input well. Daemon's death…it was…is a problem that I haven't deal with properly." Viserys managed a smile. "I fear I have leaned too much on my Lord Hand, brother."
Aegon closed his eye as a pained look made its way on his face. "I can't, Viserys. I have to return. I've been away for too long. I'm sorry."
"Fine, a few weeks. A few days. Just…don't leave yet." Viserys implored as he took hold of Aegon's arm. "You've rejected the match with my son and who knows when the last time I'll ever see you again."
"I did not reject the match, Viserys. I only rejected betrothing my daughter to Aemond without the fostering which I thought we both agreed on." Aegon said before he sighed and shook his head. "But anyway...no, I can't stay a single day longer here, Viserys. This is not my home…and it hasn't been for a long time." Aegon then looked to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry but I want to go home and I will for it today."
Viserys let go of Aegon's arm and turned away from Aegon. "Fine. Leave." Viserys bit out as he struggled to keep the betrayal and the hurt from his voice.
He heard Aegon sigh heavily before he heard his brother's retreating steps, steps that stopped after a few moments.
"Daemon sired a couple of bastard boys on whores, Viserys."
Viserys was startled at those words and he turned around to look at his brother who stared at him. "What?"
"Two boys. One two nameday old and the other three." Aegon smiled faintly as he spoke further. "One of them is the spitting image of Daemon. His name is Duncan. The other is called Aelor. He has his father's hair."
"Where are they?" Viserys asked as he turned around, his hand clenched on his walking stick. They were bastards, the two boys, but…they were Daemon's sons.
"I have reached an agreement with the Celtigars. They've been given a large sum for their upkeep and they'll be taken good care of. The Celtigars will arrange tutors for the boys and have them squire for a knight or one of the Celtigars when they reach the age for it." Aegon told him and Aegon sighed once more before he half-turned.
"I thought you deserved to know. I may have mentioned to the Celtigars that it might be prudent to come visit the Red Keep every few years so that they can speak with you about their progress…if you cared to know about it."
Viserys found himself unable to say anything to that and instead met his brother's gaze for a long moment before his brother turned away from him.
"Goodbye…brother. I wish you well." Aegon said before he walked away and Viserys didn't move until after the doors to his solar closed.
He moved towards his chair and he sunk into it, his eyes closing.
"Daemon…what would you have me do?" Viserys found himself saying to himself and he found himself smiling in mild exasperated amusement. He knew what his would want. What his brother would do. He'd laugh and he'd mock the two boys for the bastards they were.
"I'll keep an eye out for them." Viserys said to himself. And if this Duncan really was alike to his brother…perhaps…perhaps…
The grief Viserys felt on this week lessened ever so much by the news of those two boys…bastards as they might be.
And Viserys would take solace in that.
-Break-
Mid to Late 114 AC
Aegon spoke for a long time, explaining everything from the very beginning, from his travel to the God's Eye done in desperation – which brought back long forgotten anguish – to his search of a way to get out of the oath that he was certain bound him, to the suspicions of their intentions for their family, tying it to the death of his brother and the 'ghosts' that he'd seen at the wedding…
And what Aegon had found he had to do in order to free their family and Elamaerys from their influence.
"You will not change your mind will you?"
Gael's words, words that came after a long, long moment of silence, were said with a defeated tone of voice, and Aegon did not have to see her at this moment in time to know that she was clenching her fists in worried anger and fretful frustration.
"You telling me all of this…you're worried. Really worried." Gael's voice began to break a little as she spoke further and Aegon felt his stomach drop at the upset he was causing her.
He hated doing this to her…doing it so late…
And this on top of what he told her of Daemon only a few days ago…
"I have wanted to find another way. I have tried." Aegon said as he closed his eye, his hand tightly holding onto the glass candle. "I have tried to find a less risky way for more than a decade, Gael, but with what I have seen…experienced…"
He could not risk bringing back an infection into Elamaerys and kill the hope before it could grow. He could not allow them, he would not allow them…
Aegon reopened his eye, the sounds of Mīsaragorn's wings and the sounds of the cold winds a distant memory as his eye focused on the glass candle gripped tightly in his hands. "I vowed to you once, Gael, that I would everything in my power to protect our children against any that would threaten them, and believe me, please…believe me, when I say that these beings are some of the most dangerous things in the world." Aegon said sincerely, solemnly.
Aegon continued. "This…this is the best way I know how to safeguard them and hopefully" Aegon said with a facsimile of a smile "I won't be breaking my promise to you in the attempt."
There was a long moment of silence between them, a moment that seemed as if the entire world was stuck on the edge of a penny, and Aegon had begun to worry at the length of the silence. "…Gael?" Aegon call out, his tone of voice gentle and concerned.
He knew that telling her this, only days after telling her of what had happened with his brother, his brother's murder, was stroking her fears into overdriv-
"I hate magic." His train of thought was stopped by her words and Aegon leaned in a little closer, and he wished he could see her. He had not figured how to 'see across the ocean' with the candle which was ironic.
Given how much he knew, how much he was now capable of, using a glass candle to its fullest still was out of reach. He'd pieced enough of the clues together to understand how he could do it, a kind of astral projection he was sure, but he found himself incapable of doing it. He had a feeling that it was a psychological block more than anything…after all, he feared accidentally drifting into that realm…
"I wish you never accepted Fororlan to Dragonstone. I wish you that you never became beholden to the mysteries of magic."
Aegon sighed heavily and he stared away from the glass candle. Would it have been better to live in ignorance? One could argue had he avoided going to the God's Eye in search for Gael, all of this would not have needed to happen.
He wouldn't have been nearly so driven to learn about magic, so desperate to learn about ways to get himself out from the oath that he was tied to so that he could live to have more years to see the things that gave meaning to his life. His rebirth.
The chances are, he would never have found some important, fundamental information about the nature of this world. The horror that lies beneath the veil.
Things that contributed to his sleeplessness as much his guilt of the massacres did.
Fororlan had been the true beginning of his search about magic.
A search that continued after their settlement of Corinth.
Had he turned away from Fororlan, it was unlikely he would have found the majority of the tomes that helped him the most in those early years. Years that helped him harness the fires around him and helped him understand his inner flames…his spiritual energy. His Ancestral Song.
Would have life had been better then? Elamaerys would still have been searched for. The war against the corsairs would still have happened but that might have been the end of it. The confidence he had in his magic, then, was a large contributor to his ideas that he could get away with destroying Slaver's Bay.
He would not have risked it without it. At least he didn't think so.
'No.' Aegon decided. Aegon didn't think he would have chosen to live in ignorance. It would have suffocated him if he had tried. His rebirth, his memories of another life, all of it would have made trying to live in ignorance impossible.
He needed to know. He needed to understand. And after his children were born, Aegon needed his children to be safe. Gael to be safe. His people to be safe.
"Magic is what we are, Gael." Aegon said quietly as he turned back towards the glass candle. "It is in our blood. It is in our dragons. To know magic is to know ourselves, Gael, and, more importantly, to know of how others wield it."
Aegon smiled faintly at the glass candle. "And though it, magic, the God's Eye, were not the reason why I stopped being a fool, I cannot say I regret where it has led to. To you…to our children. To our new homeland." Aegon said softly, gently.
He could hear her throat constricting through the glass candle despite the cold winds around him and Aegon's expression broke at what he was making her endure.
Still, he continued. "Magic, and the understanding I have of it, is how I have come to know how to continue to protect you, our children, and theirs, especially if my suspicions about dragon dreams, from those of Daenys to that of Aegon the Conqueror, along with why tragedies continue to happen to our family in every generation, prove to be true."
Aenar the Exile had come with five children to Dragonstone. Gaemon, Daenys, Daemon, Jaenara and Maegon, born from his sister-wife and his concubines.
Out of these five children, only Gaemon, Daenys, Jaenaera and Daemon lived long enough to have children but by the time Gaemon's heir had taken the lordship of Dragonstone, the secondary branch had died off, including the issue of Daemon and Jaenara, having died living less than five and twenty namedays.
This was a tale of tragedy that continued on throughout House Targaryen's history.
From Gaemon to Aegon to Maegon to Aerys to Aelyx to Baelon to Daemon to Aerion to Aegon the Conqueror to Aenys to Maegor to Jaehaerys.
To Viserys.
Branches that should have existed kept on being pruned.
There were enough details in the chronicles that explained infighting and kinslaying through the century because of the limited number of dragons and because of the lordship, but there was startling gap and vagueness in the reasons why all of the other deaths happened.
And Aegon finally had the last piece to the puzzle as to why things had happened the way it did…why it was so neatly tied up in a perfect little bow by the time of the arrival of the Long Night and Bran Stark.
"Daemon was just an accident, Aegon. The Darrys don't believe in the Old Gods." Gael said and he could hear the attempt of persuasion in her voice.
"One does not need to believe in the Old Gods to have their influence, Gael." Aegon said in tired answer. He continued. "And our choices are what make us, Gael. Choices we make. Choices that we are free to make by the Seven and these Old Gods pervert that choice with their influence wherever they are. I will not have them be there in our lands, right amongst our family." Aegon shook his head lightly with vehemence etched on his face.
"I have to do this…and this is the best way." Aegon continued, his vehemence breaking as he looked saddened at the glass candle. "I am sorry."
Either he had to get them to retract the oath, the pact he made, or he must die.
There was no other way.
Even going to war with them was unlikely to change the two paths that existed.
There was again a long, long moment of silence, and Aegon heard her chair moving. "Valarr isn't here. He's off flying somewhere in the south. But Castorys and Polaerys…do you wish to…"
Aegon closed his eye as he answered. 'Valarr…' "Yes. I want to speak with them." Moments later, he could hear Gael's steps fading away.
"Father?" He heard Castorys' voice and Aegon found himself smiling. Not only at his voice but how much his voice had changed the last time Aegon had seen him.
Castorys' voice had been breaking, at the time but now…
It was the voice of a young man.
"Castorys." Aegon said with a fading smile as he stared at the candle. "Is your brother there with you?"
"I'm here, father. What has happened? Mother looks upset." Polaerys fired off in quick succession and Aegon sighed lightly.
"My sons…" Aegon began and a heavy, weary tone in his voice. "Do you remember what I told you that day, the day we sat perched on the crowned mountain and saw our settlements? When I spoke about our efforts, our wishes, our dreams?"
"Yes father. You said that it is where we would see our world change. And it has been. Polaerys, Valarr and I go there often. We've started taking our siblings there too, including Solonys." Castorys answered. "Father…what"
"Castorys." Aegon interjected before Castorys could further ask what was wrong.
"There are beings in this world…beings of tremendous power and who pretend to be gods, my sons." Aegon began and he knew what he had to say in this moment in time could never be enough but he had to warn them in case…
"Beings that mean our family a great deal of harm. Beings that are nightmare worthy. Beings that feel no compunction of toying with the lives of people." Aegon said and he felt his hands tighten on the glass candle. "You have heard some of it from the men who came with me to Toad Isle."
"The demon." Polaerys was the one to speak up after him and Aegon could hear the worry in his son's voice. "Father, I don't understand. What are you...?"
"I know. I know you don't understand. I've tried shielding you from this for as long as possible but I fear that I need you, my eldest sons, to know and learn of my mistakes in case I do not come back to you all." Aegon said and he grimaced at the blunt way he said his words.
His words caused a commotion amongst his sons as they tried to wrung out more out of him but Aegon would not have it. "Castorys. Polaerys. Stop." Aegon said sternly and the two boys…the young men, stopped in their inquisition.
"I have written journals about magic and what I understand of the ways the world our Gods created worked. The journals that are on the ships presently on their way to Elamaerys contain my latest writings that includes what I know about these false gods and the games they play and the lies they spin." Aegon took on a deep breath before he continued.
"Learn from them. Learn everything I have written to you. They are in Greek so you must continue to learn your letters, especially with how my writings include many words you could misinterpret."
He'd been tempted to write about the other plane of existence but Aegon had only barely survived and it had come at the favour from one of the gemstone emperors or at least something that resembled the Amethyst Emperor. Empress.
To speak of it to his sons…
It was out of the question. Not when he had no clue yet how to unlock the sight safely in others.
"Father, stop, stop, please. You speak as if you're going to die!" Castorys' words were panicked and Aegon's expression twisted at the sheer panic in his son's voice.
"You cannot die. Father please. Don't talk like this. We can help you." Polaerys was the one to speak next and even he was struck by the same panic that'd taken hold of Castorys.
"Yes, father, just wait for us! We're reading Polaerys' books on magic and we can all move the flames of the campfires and the torches too! All three of us!" Castorys said and Aegon found himself smiling at those words. 'They had kept their progress from him…good progress...'
"All three of you?" Aegon asked, his smile not wavering on his face.
"We wanted to surprise you for when you returned." Polaerys said and Aegon found himself chuckling silently. 'Yes…it would have been a nice surprise…'
"You have done well, my sons. And I am proud of you. But this is not something you can help me with. This is my duty as your father not to allow my mistake to affect you and the rest of our family, my duty to protect you, to be your shield." Aegon leaned closer to the glass candle.
"But know this…my sons…I promise you I will do everything I can to return home to our family. Everything. And I haven't gotten this far, this close, to let go from seeing you all if there anything I can do. Have faith in me." Aegon said with utmost sincerity to his sons.
The conversation after that was difficult.
He explained a little more about what caused all of this but mostly, he refrained from sharing too much detail at this moment in time, and, after Aegon had extracted promises, true promises, from his sons not to do anything with magic or flames, he pressed his sons to have Gael return to the glass candle.
"You promised me that you would return to me, Aegon." Gael said, her voice calmer but he felt as if he could see her right at this moment. Her face etched in angry but fearful determination, her beautiful eyes staring right through his soul.
"You have to keep it. You have to. Please…I can't…I don't want to see through everything we ever wanted alone."
Aegon closed his eye at those words. "I swear to you Gael…I will do what I have to come back to you." Aegon said with utmost sincerity and promise in his words.
"But if I don't call back in two days…know Gael…I love you." 'More than anything I have ever loved. In this life…or in the life before.'
"I will speak to you in two days, Aegon." He heard her stand up and he thought he could hear her walk away but, he heard her speak once more, one last time…
"…I love you too." He then heard her walk away and Aegon's mouth twisted into a hollow smile before he reopened his eye and cut the connection to her candle and Aegon stared out at the dark skies as Mīsaragorn let off a light roar, making him look towards forward, towards Mīsaragorn's head.
Aegon sighed heavily before he leaned to his right side and placed the glass candle in the saddlebag. He then tapped at Mīsaragorn's scales. "Let's get there faster, Mīsaragorn. It's almost dawn." Aegon said quietly as he sat back in his saddle, his expression one of stone even if he felt a great deal of melancholy.
'I will win…even if it is my last victory…I will win…'
Yet for the first time in a long while…
Aegon did not feel as near as assured of his victory.
Less than an hour later…
The isle of Dragonstone loomed over the twilight horizon that lay on the precipice of becoming dawn-swept, a sight that once brought a deep sense of comfort within him yet today, this hour before the morn, it brought no comfort to him, only a sense of acceptance of what must be done.
Aegon let his depths of his feelings attached to his thoughts known to Mīsaragorn, and Aegon felt hints of challenge through their bond which he was quick to disagree with as they already had enough on their plates.
'We truly are a two-part soul, aren't we…'
"Not yet." Aegon murmured as he leaned forward and tapped at his scales and sent feelings of assurances and promise through their bond. "If…when we survive, I'll be with you to settle that score. One day." Aegon murmured lowly at the dragon as he let his hand settle on the strong-as-steel scales of his dragon.
Mīsaragorn let off a deep yet quiet rumbling that Aegon felt through the saddle, a quiet acceptance, and Mīsaragorn slowed his approach towards the isle, veering clear and away from the area known where the Cannibal's lair was known to be and the regions where the Cannibal hunted drakelings and wild dragons born on the isle.
Once, Cannibal had hunted them during one of their first flights.
A hunt that nearly ended the both of them. Mīsaragorn had severely grown distrustful of other dragons after that event, naturally, and of course was resentful at being hunted. Mīsaragorn had his pride…just like Aegon.
It was not yet time to settle that score and take the opportunity to make use of the Cannibal. 'If I get to live long enough for that moment' Aegon wasn't help to stop that thought from making its way to the forefront of his mind as he stared at the Dragonmont…
Thankfully, the caves were far from where the Cannibal was known to roost or feast, and had been trouble-free for his men to get to and, he mused as he continued to stare at the Dragonmont as they approached, trouble-free for him to arrive to.
'Beautiful…is this what Draconys looks like? Valyria must have been some sight…'
Aegon thought as he glimpsed the dull glow that sang through the barren earth and the distant glow far below that promised churning energy at the centre, at the heart.
As they neared, Aegon thought he could faintly see an ebbing and flowing of energy, so faint that it could well be his imagination, and, as Mīsaragorn landed carefully on the ground by the cliffside, Aegon got to see it was no imagination.
'Valyria must have been a sight to behold…'
Aegon climbed down from atop Mīsaragorn, taking the two bags, one empty, one filled, and a long item covered in cloth, and he set foot on the ground, ground that was stranded with pieces of rock and black stone that sounded jaggedly as his steel boots walked over the pieces of rock, and he walked away from Mīsaragorn, hooking the bags across his body, his hand silently hovering across the dagger.
He paused for a moment after he was a number of strides apart from Mīsaragorn, his eyes veering at the still dark heavens and at their surroundings and Aegon looked back at his dragon.
Mīsaragorn stretched back his lips, jagged teeth showing, and a low rumble escaped his maw moments before Mīsaragorn fully opened up his maw and let out a small and fleeting jet of flame that cast the entire area brilliantly aglow in blue, and Aegon waved his free hand towards the flames and captured it before it dissipated into the ambient world.
He pulled it towards him in a spiral, and slowly, he spun the flame akin to a yarn into thread before he pulled it all into a football sized ball that hovered above him.
Once he had control over Mīsaragorn's flames, he looked towards his dragon, their eyes meeting for a long moment, a look of seriousness on his face as he sent feelings tinged with warning and vigilance at his dragon and a heartbeat later, Mīsaragorn looked away and stood sentinel, silently accepting Aegon's commands.
Aegon looked at his dragon for a little while longer before he turned away and made his way towards the caves, a glowing blue ball of flame following in pursuit as he treaded the path he'd once first walked more than a decade ago.
He'd had years on Dragonstone, before and after he and Gael had wed.
A time that included a time he'd spent searching the castle of Dragonstone for everything it was worth and a time where he'd spent dwelling through the caves of the isle. He was left mostly disappointed, finding less than should be possible on magic within the halls of the citadel castle and outside of it.
At the time, it brought him little satisfaction to have found the caves he once remembered in another life, Aegon thought as he arrived at the mouth of the cave.
He paused for a moment, his eye veering towards the ground and he pushed his senses to distinguish what he was seeing, pushing to see the granular from the body.
Slowly, the ablaze island was tuned out to see the embers that lay on the surface, and the corner of Aegon's eye crinkled in distant satisfaction as the ground lit up distant glows within the centres of the black rocks.
He crouched down and he hovered his hand across a couple of black shards, shards of dragonglass, and without much effort, he wakes the fire within the dragonglass, and it glows more brightly, more virulently than all of the other embers.
A cold blue hue of a glow, the same glow as the monsters that hide in the blizzards and in the night.
The same glow of the grenade-like weapons he remembered seeing the little demons wield in another life.
'I should have seen it earlier' Aegon thought as he glanced away and looked towards Mīsaragorn.
Fororlan once said that there were only three things that burnt hotter than wildfyre.
Dragonflame, the fires beneath the earth, and the Summer Sun.
Fororlan also once claimed that there had been a legend amongst the order, that the wildfyre had been a brazen attempt to capture the frozen flames dragonglass, to recreate the formulae of the fires beneath the earth, only to end up accidentally creating wildfyre which nearly ended the order before it could truly begin.
Hmm…
He could accept the legend having grains of truth, especially since finely grounded pieces of dragonglass was an important reactant in the alchemic concoction.
Dragonglass was frozen fire, suspended in molten rock, borne from the fires beneath the earth, a symbol of transformation borne from creation and destruction.
Symbolically, volcanoes were ascribed meaning of divinity, a source of divine power, that created – fertility and life – and destroyed – destroying entire ecosystems and its life – and dragonglass seemed to take on a sense of transformation that was frozen, in wait, until it was called upon to either create…
Or destroy.
It was a logical extrapolation as to why that symbolism, why that power, is so prevalently used in the forgotten annals of this world.
It had been used to create the Night King, transforming him into ice with the power of frozen fire, and, according to the references Aegon had found in several tomes that implied a link between 'frozen fire' and the resuscitation of the dead with the context of white walkers, it was also used as a means to animate the dead or dying with the spiritual energy that remained in suspension within obsidian.
It opens a whole can of worms.
And it led to a number of questions, and perhaps some answers, but what Aegon had been struck the most by, was a question that had come from the implication about frozen fire and why it teemed with spiritual energy.
Why it was one and the same.
All living beings had spiritual energy, no matter how faint. All.
From the hardiest water-starved shrubbery of Astapor to the largest of animals.
And if 'frozen fire' was borne from the fires beneath the earth, and both had spiritual energy just as he was seeing this morn…
Then did that mean that the planet was alive?
'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'.
Even if it was not alive-alive, the idea that the planet itself was alive in some form or another was…
His mind returned back towards the paintings of the giant ball of flame and Aegon sighed heavily and a forlorn smile grew on his face, a smile that lessened within moments of forming. So many mysteries…
'It would be a shame…I suppose I must be satisfied with the thought that my sons will pick up where I left off should I…'
Aegon set aside that thought as he placed the wrapped up staff on the ground.
His hand went into the non-empty bag and he pulled one of the red garnet gems, which he returned when it was a full one, and he then pulled out an empty gem, and he placed it at the centre of his palm as he placed his hand next to the hand that woke the fire within the dragonglass shards.
With no more than a thought, he pulled at one of the shards and the deep cold blue hue brightened even more so and Aegon felt it on the precipice of exploding but he 'wrapped' his Will over the shard of dragonglass, and, like hooks onto flesh, his Will and his spiritual energy got purchase on the energy and he pulled further, pulling it out of the dragonglass and with a fraction of the effort it took to 'hook' onto the energy, did he manage to transfer the energy into the red garnet, which now glowed a blue with reddish tints that bordered on violet at the edges.
He could sense that the red garnet gemstone was about a fifth full, which was somewhat aggravating considering how long it took to fill a red garnet gemstone once he got a hand on the transference of spiritual energy from one to another during his…interrogation of his Myrrish prisoners and the Dothraki.
When something died, they left a part of them, a part of their Being, behind for a time after their death. He'd noticed it in Tolos and in Elyria, and he noticed it even in the seals and in butchered livestock.
It was quite something that there was a parallelism with dragonglass and the residue of the dead…
Anyway…he'd set out to learn more about the residual spiritual energy, life-force, whatever you wanted to call it, that was left behind and used the campaign in the Disputed Lands to learn more of it.
He could not tell how many men he'd watched, studied, as they drew their last breaths. Hundreds…
In any case, early on, he'd learnt that when you died, your spiritual energy does not immediately depart from your cooling body. It lingers though it does not take long for the energy to become…dilute.
It took some time to learn how to manipulate that spiritual energy, having come an understanding that it was no real different than what he'd been doing with the glass candles, which he'd rather accidentally realised that he was manipulating the transformed energy within the candles when he'd linked them to his Being, and even longer how to take that dilute spiritual energy from the dead, only having achieved a measure of success in the remaining one and ten Myrrish men.
Eight and twenty had died before Aegon was able to…harvest their residual energy, and the last one and ten men had only filled up three of the red garnets with the last half dozen having become the most…efficient harvests before he got a knack of it.
The Dothraki had been where he'd perfected his harvesting and even then, there was no comparison between a single harvest of residual life-force and that of a single hand-sized dragonglass shard.
The potency of a dragonglass shard was several times greater…
When you consider that this very island was brimming with the stuff…
Aegon closed his hand, and he let the fire within the other shard return to its suspended state before he put the red garnet back into the empty bag. He took the wrapped up staff as stood back up and, after pulling Mīsaragorn's flame closer to his body, he began to walk into the bowels of the cave.
Aegon continued to walk further into the cave, dimming his sight more and more as he walked through the tunnel carved through stone and dragonglass, glancing at the footsteps on the ground before he arrived at a large chasm within the cave, a chasm that was as tall as the average towers in keeps around the Realm.
Aegon continued to walk, making way towards the narrower pass on his left side, though he spared a glance at the walls of the cave.
He had not found the symbols and cave carvings that he'd seen in the show here, despite, he thought, being the same cave he'd seen in a Game of Throne, having searched for it at the same time he'd searched for accessible dragonglass in the early days, the pseudo cave-man carvings that had the mysterious spirals and the White Walkers, and Aegon had chalked it off at the time as an irregularity.
Perhaps it still was and it was just another change that likely didn't reflect the 'book-verse' of A Song of Ice and Fire, but perhaps it was not, not if it was not meant to be found by him or at this point in time, only to be created and found later, when it became important, when it became relevant.
Aegon didn't put it past them to fabricate whatever was needing to be fabricated for the moment that it was needed.
Daenerys had needed to see those carvings so that she could start to believe Jon Snow's story and what better than to show it on Dragonstone, the place that Daenerys held a special connection to?
In any case…
Aegon had been interested in learning what other geometries there were, given that the spiral geometry had been used in a ritual to create the White Walkers…
He'd been disappointed to find nothing, and even more so now, now that they distantly reminded him of the strange tome with the circular runes which he was yet to decipher and was yet to decide if there was a link with the little demons.
The main reason why he was not truly considering there is a link was because they held history through their ancestors in those damnable trees…
They had no use for tomes and books, after all…
Aegon set aside those thoughts as he carefully stepped down onto the jagged rocks and towards the pass that led further and deeper into the volcano, edging deeper and deeper into the bowels of the volcano, and he could see faint lights at the other end.
Finally, after a long while, the light of the other end growing stronger, he arrived at the end of the pass and he stretched his body slightly whilst he gazed upon the eight men who had looked ready to attack him.
Aegon gazed upon them, the eight Unsullied men who wore their famous armour and attire, the eight men whose halos Aegon could see as bright as moonlight, the faint light of their campfire that reached the edges of the throne-hall like cave chamber seeming in ill-compare.
Aegon felt himself grow impossibly weary at the familiar sight of their halos, at the sight of the peace they reached, as he watched the men lower their spears and relaxing when they saw that it was him.
"My Prince." The Unsullied named Pihri was the first to acknowledge him accompanied with a deep bow of the head, his eyes glancing towards the blue flame that followed Aegon. Ahri, Ekes, Rigarys, Riqez, Shizlo, Ozip and Srardan followed suit almost immediately.
The names of the men present were mostly Bastard Ghiscari or Lhazareen, with only one of them taken for themselves a Valyrian name, but all of the names were taken for a meaning that was personal to them.
Ekes, for example, meant 'Thorn Bird' in Ghiscari, a kind of bird that was prominent in the desert and could oft be seen surrounding cacti.
Most of the names were names in that kind of vein…
"Pihri." Aegon acknowledged with a tilt of the head before he continued and addressed each of the men who he'd never be able to repay this debt he'd owe them, and he looked away from them, glancing around, taking in the full sight of the chamber.
There were five other such chamber-like caves in this area, some smaller, some larger, but this one was the best suited for what he planned on doing.
Surrounded on all sides, the walls, the ceiling, even the narrow pass at the far edge that led deeper into the dragonmont into another chamber-like cave and where all of the heat came from, was dragonglass and rock.
His eye then veered towards the far side where there lay ceramic cups and pots alongside bags of ship supplies, and a moment later he finally turned his eye towards the ground where there lay eight great slabs of dragonglass set apart in equal distance from one another, with small grooves etched onto the ground from each slab of dragonglass which all met at the very centre which he could see had been made into a larger depression. Large enough for a tall man to lay down in.
Just off-centre, there was another slab but this one was made of stone, mostly, that sat the edge of the depression, and, underneath it, he could see the lead plate that it sat upon…
Aegon set down his bags and the wrapped up staff and he touched one of the slabs before his fingers ran across the surface of the grooves on the ground.
It was dry, very dry. The ground naturally dished slightly so any run off water typically was pooling up at the centre.
The men did well in drying and clogging up the water from seeping into the chamber…
"We readied the chamber as you commanded, my Prince." Lihri said in answer to Aegon's studying of the area and Aegon looked up to meet the man's gaze.
As always, the man let show none of his emotions but he didn't need to see physical expressions to know his state of mind. He was at peace, more at peace than the last time he'd seen them weeks ago.
Aegon stood back up. "You did well. All of you. It is perfect." Aegon said in a quiet tone of voice as his gaze flickered across to meet all of the men's eyes.
Their halos drew him in like moths to a flame and Aegon felt a deep swell of solemn disquiet wash over him at the sight of it all. Of what he had wrought.
He went back towards the wrapped up staff and picked up the bags before he sat down on the slab of stone that lay in the centre. Aegon gestured towards the men to come closer and each of them took their seats onto the slabs of dragonglass.
The men took their seats and Aegon remained silent as he stared at them all, one at a time.
After the campaign in the Disputed Lands and after he'd returned to Astapor, he'd had a lot of time to…study and contemplate.
A lot of time to investigate a great many things such as the effect of oaths and power behind words and intent…working to understand what kind of powers these beings within the Trees could have used to entrap him and how real his fears were that they could use his refusal as a means to curse him for breaking an oath that had been sworn with intention and promise dwelling deep in his soul.
He'd gorged himself in stories of oathbreakers in front of the eyes of the 'gods', stories of trickster kings dying when 'gods' took offence to their trickeries, stories of the fates that befell the Giants and the Maze Builders, enemies of the little demons once upon a time, who he could surmise had broken oaths and peace with the little demons, only to become extinct throughout both Essos and Westeros at the end of it all…
All of it had led him towards a final acceptance that he had to either get them to release him of his oath or…
He would have to die long before the city was finished, ensuring the dormant curse, that might or might not be real, will not fall on his family and on Elamaerys.
And Aegon felt that this was a perfect way for them to circumvent whatever constraints God or whatever being or entity imposed on them with regards to him.
Some would think him overly paranoid or superstitious but Aegon felt it deep within his bones that this was not something he could chalk away, and with what happened with his brother, dying at the sword of a random knight of a lesser House from the Riverlands with the strong blood of the First Men, a fate that Aegon did not believe to be a mere coincidence, Aegon's thinking had only solidified that this was a path he must take to its end.
A path that began with his investigation into the nature of sacrifice and blood magic. The tomes he'd gotten throughout the wars had been invaluable in aiding his understanding…in both matters of the Inner and the Outer.
One tome above all else helped him on his way. The tome on blood magic from Elyria, which provided all kinds of recipes for the utilisation of blood magic.
Even if he used none of the techniques, he did get to understand the fundamentals that lay in creating sacrificial rituals that could bring about a desired effect, either by drawing from the Outer…or from the Inner.
Many of the rituals detailed in the blood magic tome was involved in sacrificing to an idea, which was construed as beseeching – or offering – a god of a particular domain, such as Meleys, the Goddess of Love and Fertility, who could be beseeched to grant fertility to a barren women with the ritualistic sacrifice of four fertile maiden girls who had not yet seen four and ten namedays.
The sacrifice of the life-force gave the power to agitate or open up the connection between the Two Worlds, the idea gave the means to pinpoint the desire from chaos, and the intent of the castor provided the intent and will and imposed solidification of the desired effect of the ritual.
Once you understood this basis for how the relationship between the two realities and 'magic' worked, not just academically but also spiritually and emotionally, as both were more important than actually understanding how it all worked, all of the other pieces would fall into place with time and with care.
It was how he managed to create 'Elamaeri Steel', by infusing Mīsaragorn's flames, embers of his furnace, the power, into the molten steel, and binding the dragonflame into the steel much like how dragonglass held within the embers of the fires beneath the earth, the idea, through his will and his intent.
There had been several steps afterwards, such as folding the steel a few dozen times when the steel was made malleable enough after being in a furnace burning by the fires of the drawn out flames from within dragonglass, but it was the dragonflame step that provided the closest characteristics to Valyrian Steel.
And it was also how he perfected his understanding of drawing embers of himself and infusing it into stone temporarily and make the stone obey him.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that Aegon understood more of the flimsy rules of this world, especially the rules of the Inner and what was possible within the confines of the physical universe, a universe that held within an ember of the spiritual energies that raged throughout the other reality.
And the most important rule that presided in this universe was that whatever was given, was returned.
Balance.
The Outer circumvented that rule and could do it by orders of magnitude, which was how the little demons would have been capable of breaking the arm of Dorne, or how the Bloodstone Emperor could have managed bring about 'an age of darkness' and caused 'the sun to hide its face' before he was defeated and 'every tribe of men went its own way' in an era long before the Long Night.
And in every instance of chronicles that detailed such display of might, of power, there was never an instance that showed that it paid off in the long run to rely on the Outer for such great perversion of reality.
The little demons almost certainly suffered greatly to usher in that much power into the physical world and the Bloodstone Emperor…well, the stories about him were about as bad as stories could get and the toll it must have caused him…
It was why Aegon had focused so much on learning the rules of the Inner, the rules within this universe and how spiritual energy worked, and why he had been so interested in learning tales of Gods and Goddesses, to learn and decipher what was possible within the limitations of this universe…
And all of it had led him here, with a curse providing the blessing that he otherwise could never attain without reaching out to the Outer, Aegon thought as he glanced at his men, the weariness within him growing.
Leading him to an end of a path that would allow him, should he not die in the attempt, to develop a means to combat those who strived to create Fate, leading him on an idea, on a way, to transform a sliver of the Outer entities into a weapon akin to the Sword of Damocles, one that could protect his family and Elamaerys from their grubby little fingers and their control and from all the others like them.
A path that Aegon was here to see towards its end.
An end that these eight brave and loyal men were here for.
Aegon clenched his hands around the wrapped up staff as his expression broke amidst the turmoil he felt, his eye flickering from one set of eyes to another.
He'd long set this to an end. Since Astapor. Since he arrived at Driftmark and sent them to Dragonstone on this task. Yet…
"You still have the chance to change your minds." Aegon said as he looked upon them, knowing that the words were only there to assuage himself away from the last embers of his reluctance, despite knowing, despite seeing it clearly…
They had already set themselves on seeing this through to the end.
And he was entirely responsible for this frame of mind.
During the last few moons before his departure from Astapor, he'd settled on two ways to force these 'Old Gods' to relinquish him from his oath.
And one of those ways was one that would cause total war with the entities, one that would set him on a path that he was very, very unlikely to win and it was one that could well destroy him even if, on the off-chance, he won the war in the end.
And worse…it could cause the conflict to spread to his family back in Elamaerys.
This way…this way was a more moderate way, a way that would see them see him as a true threat to their survival but not one that could not be settled through agreement between the two parties, one that would result in a stalemate.
Both of the ways relied on unrestrained self-sacrifice for an idea, for someone, for a purpose, and it all relied on transforming the sliver of an Outer Entity into a weapon that could truly destroy entities like them.
The eight men in front of him were amongst the Unsullied who had fully converted to his version of the Faith of the Seven and who had fully taken to the notion of him being a saviour, a messenger of the Gods, a man who died and was reborn on the Seventh Day, and whom they owe everything to, including their lives.
Even if they had not been converts, it would not have been hard to find volunteers amongst the Unsullied for nearly all of them, more than likely all of them, would die on their spears and swords if only Aegon asked.
But he needed more. He needed their full buy-in, their heart and soul, a complete and unwavering faith in him, in the purpose he needed them for, and he'd found plenty of volunteers like the eight men in front of him.
The eight men Aegon picked out from the thousands of volunteers. Volunteers whom Aegon had spoken to about a mission that would guarantee their deaths.
Volunteers that had not stepped away when he'd warned them about this fact.
And out of those volunteers, these eight brave and loyal men, were the ones whom Aegon had chosen to die for him…for this purpose he needed them for.
Whom Aegon had told the unvarnished truths of this world, what he has learnt of the false 'gods', whom Aegon was afraid of and wanted a way to kill, and why he was asking what he wanted from them.
And even then, they did not choose to back out…
No…
It had only solidified their sense of purpose…
"Pihri will not change his mind, Prince Aegon." The Unsullied soldier said without a single waver in his voice.
"Ahri will not change his mind, my Prince."
"Ekes will not change his mind, Prince Aegon."
"Rigarys will not change his mind, Prince Aegon."
"Riqez will not change his mind, my Prince."
"Ozip will not change his mind, Prince Aegon."
"Shizlo will not change his mind, Prince Aegon."
"Sradan will not change his mind, my Prince."
Each and every one of them said the words without a single waver in their voice and Aegon closed his eye as his hand tightened across his wrapped up staff.
It was cruel of him. To have chosen the Unsullied, knowing of their obedience that had been warped since the day they were born and then to use it in such a manner.
Willing sacrifice, willing self-sacrifice, was so much more potent, so much more powerful, as an idea, as a concept, and it resonated throughout a person's Being and into the world at large.
It was almost certainly why Lightbringer, the sword that had been made through the self-sacrifice of Nissa Nissa, was powerful enough to combat the Others.
And the tomes he'd found, especially the tome in Meereen which detailed a Valyrian blood-mage's personal achievements – rarely did the practitioners detail real steps of their crafts in ink – which helped illuminate the concept of self-sacrifice in real terms thanks to blood-mage's effusive writings about the success of his experiments thanks to the indoctrinated slaves that willingly sacrificed themselves for him, had all helped solidified his theory on the connection between spiritual energy, the State of Mind and emotion.
Willing self-sacrifice, done with purpose, done with real zeal and belief, seemed to be incredibly potent…
"My Prince." Pihri was the one to speak up, and the man's voice took on a near gentle tone of voice, surprising Aegon, and Aegon reopened his eye and he looked to the man and Aegon was surprised once more to see a faint trace of a smile on his face.
"Please do not feel this guilt. We do this because we wish to." Pihri said, the faint trace of a smile slowly leaving his expression as he continued. "You have helped us remove our chains, Prince Aegon. Us and many others."
The man then bowed his head slightly.
"Do not feel this guilt because we wish to do the same for you, my Prince, and help remove the chains these false gods put upon you and your family."
Aegon glanced around, searching the men's faces, their halos, and he found that all of them had the same desire as Pihri.
Aegon closed his eye once more and he breathed heavily through his nose for several long moments and he relaxed his grip on the wrapped staff before he reopened his eye and he found himself in final acceptance of the end of the path he'd taken…the end he was taking these eight brave and loyal men to.
Aegon stood up. "Know this, Pihri, Ahri, Ekes, Rigarys, Riqez, Ozip, Shizlo, Srardan, men of Astapor, men of Liberty Bay, my men." Aegon said in a quiet tone of voice but one that was brimming with meaning and sincerity. "Never will I allow your names to be forgotten. Never will I forget who were the ones who worked to free my family." Aegon bowed down from the hip to the Unsullied.
"I owe you a debt I can never repay. My men. My people. My saviours."
Aegon stood back up straight again and he saw their halos lighten even more, now resembling a kind of pristine whiteness that he'd always seen around Larissa though where hers was more around the inner edges of her halo, the halos around his men were both inside and out pristine, a kind that he'd never seen before.
He could only associate this kind of state of mind and their emotions as being that of one that was at peace with themselves, at peace with the world and with death.
The weight lessened even more at the sight of it all, humbling him in ways that Aegon could not begin to understand yet, and he felt himself growing at greater ease, his conscience clearing and his mind refocused on what must be done.
Aegon sat back down on the slab of stone and began to take out the red garnet gems from the bag, and he threw the other near empty bag towards the bags of supplies in the corner.
He brought out, one by one, almost ritualistically, each of the red garnet gems, about twice the size of a golf ball, and almost all of them filled, nine of them, to the brim with residual spiritual energy.
Aegon brought out the chain forged from Valyrian Steel, and slowly hooked up each of the nine red garnet gems through their punctures before he placed the chain around his neck.
Nine. A number that held meaning to him. A number that meant in Scripture as Divine Completeness and conveyed the meaning of Finality.
Christ had died at the 9th Hour of the Day, a way that allowed the path of Salvation to open to everyone.
A number with meaning.
The Unsullied also began their own final tasks, setting aside their spears and assumed their positions on the inside of the Octagon circle, another symbol that held meaning for it represented Rebirth and the Eight Beatitudes, their backs leaning against the slabs of dragonglass, a dagger of dragonglass in their hands.
Aegon unwrapped the cloth from around the staff, slowly, methodically, the white of the bone staff almost gleaming under the blue glare of his dragon's flame.
The bone staff curved ever so slightly despite the work his men, and Aegon during the travel back to Driftmark from Kings Landing, had put into carving the bone into a staff.
It came from the smallest of Balerion's rib bones, a rib bone that was as tall as three men standing on top of each other. They had to break the rib into several smaller pieces, and this one was the most pristine out of the three pieces.
Balerion's bones, outside of his skull, were stored in a cellar down below in the bowels of the Red Keep, an area that was connected through the network of tunnels and passages Maegor built within the Red Keep.
Tunnels and passages that Aegon and Gael knew well.
During the wedding, two of his men went down and smuggled the rib bone from the cellar and thrown it out of the same passage way Gael had used to escape the Red Keep, which later had been picked up by his men stationed at the docks.
The bone, though it lacked any spiritual energy, was still as good as a medium he could use for the purpose he had planned for it.
Symbolically, it was perfect.
A rib bone from a dragon which signified creation, a furnace of spiritual energy, so unlike any other Being he'd seen before, from the dragon, Balerion, the greatest dragon that had lived since the Doom, a dragon named after a death god, a dragon who brought death to the enemies of its rider and stood triumphant over the conquered.
There was no greater medium than this rib bone. This staff.
Not for what he intended this staff to become.
Aegon passed the cloth and the empty bag to one of the Unsullied who'd placed it in the corner with the supplies before he returned to his position, and Aegon placed the bone-white staff into the depression with delicate care before he placed himself onto the top of the slab of stone and brought up his legs and crossed them in a lotus like way.
Aegon pulled closer the ball of dragonflame, causing it to hover high above the dragonbone staff, and Aegon, after a deep intake of breathe, at the same time caused the flame of the campfire to die out so as to snuff out all other source of Light and Warmth beside that of the dragonflame which now cast the world in an ethereal blue glow, raised his open-palmed hands and pulled.
Aegon pulled at the red garnet gems that hung around his neck, his Will hooking into the gems with intent and purpose, and within an instance, Aegon was surrounded by a haze of red tinged with a hue of grey, a haze that seem to mire him in a sea made of tiny, tiny drops of blood and it was then that Aegon…
Aegon felt it.
The energy that suffused around him, tempting him to pull it all within him, but Aegon resisted, resisted the temptation of power for it was not power for himself that Aegon sought, no, Aegon sought power in the name of Righteousness, in the name of Defiance, for the sake of Freedom from those who sought to Relinquish him and others of it.
Aegon breathed heavily. In and out, in and out, his face a mask of stone, his entire Being focused into this single, singular moment in Time, in Duty, and the mist of red descended into a stagnant pool of crimson ocean, orbiting Aegon into a single strand of thick wide ribbons made of blood-red silks, and the dark crimson glow that emanated from this ribbon of spiritual energy battled against the ethereal glow of the dragon flame, and it was at this moment, at this moment of a strange Balance, that Aegon closed his hands.
The Balance between the two sources of energy was disrupted by twin flames the colour of scarlet and yellowed-bone ignited right above his hands, twin flames that grew and grew, reaching the size of a pinball, the size of heads, growing and growing until finally, they reached the size of the slab on which Aegon sat upon.
Aegon breathed heavily. In and out. In and out.
The twin flames moved from above his hands and when Aegon opened his hands again into fully open palmed hands, the twin flames moved and within a blink of an eye, they sunk into the left and right sides of the great slab of stone, suffusing themselves into the Heart of the Stone.
Aegon felt it, felt his flames nourish the rigid stone with its fires, heating it, melting it, until every single pour within the once-rigid stone bore a trace of his flames and then…
The molten stone rose. Rising from beneath the lead plate on which it had been moved onto, moving upward and free from gravity, free from the laws of physics, levitating solely on the power of his Being and his Ancestral Song.
Aegon breathed heavily. In and out. In and out and his breathing began to fade into obscurity, and soon, the walls, the ceiling, everything but the flames, the red ribbon, and his eight men, faded into nothingness.
And at this very moment, it felt as if Aegon was no longer Aegon, so was he transfixed into the ritual, into the transformation, that he was no more than a passenger in something he seemed to have no conscious control over anymore.
A ball of molten stone broke through one of the faces of the great slab of molten stone, a glowing slab of molten stone that emitted no heat, rising and orbiting Aegon in a wider orbit than the ribbon of red that surrounded him.
Aegon moved his hands, towards the dagger in lead sheathe, and he removed it from his belt, settling the dagger in his hands facing towards the ceiling of the chamber.
The ball of molten stone split apart, two pieces, and moved towards his hands. One of the pieces settled onto the edge of his fingers before it began to roll down the length of his fingers and a moment later, Aegon moved that hand away, allowing the piece of molten stone to settle right underneath the hilt of the dagger.
A moment later, the second piece of molten stone rolled in between his hand and the dagger, before it transformed and wrap itself around the sheathe of the dagger, the other piece of molten stone doing the same around the hilt.
The dagger floated away from around Aegon, moving towards a space in between dragonflame and the dragonbone, and Aegon moved his hands towards each other.
Had he looked towards the men, the Unsullied, he would have seen the men stare at him with awe and wonder in their eyes, for they were granted the sight of Aegon floating in the air atop a white-hot glowing piece of stone, his posture in a way that seemed as if he was in prayer, surrounded by tangible hue of something, with the ethereal light of blue dragonflame casting down a light that captured him in a way that only solidified their belief of him and strengthened their faith in him.
And that solidification, that strengthening of faith, was as tangible as the ribbon that surrounded Aegon.
Spiritual Energy was a curious thing.
Even more so was the state of mind and emotion.
Guilt. Love. Fear. Anger. Grief. Contentment. Hate. Hope.
All of these things, Spiritual Energy, State of Mind, Emotion, all of it, made a whole of a soul. Everything that made a person, their hopes, their fears, their wonder and terror, needed these Three.
One of Life. One of Understanding. One of Experience.
Aegon parted his hands and so did the dagger part from its sheathe.
Immediately, the essence that impregnated the Valyrian Steel dagger infected the very air with foulness and decay, and it felt like decayed fingers clawing through earth, spreading poison and malignance in every moment that passed.
The essence of an Outer Entity was strong within the Valyrian Steel, and Aegon had seen what it was capable of when he'd struck it into a dying Dothraki, seeing how it consumed the Dothraki whole, life-force and soul, a terrible sight to witness and one that he forbade himself from ever using again against a living person.
None deserved such a fate, even Dothraki. Even the foulest of humans.
Only the likes the essence shared likeness with deserved such total destruction.
Aegon let the molten stone around the lead sheathe fall towards the darkest corner of the room before he pushed the molten stone around the hilt downward, forcing the tip of the dagger to go perpendicular with the ground.
"Pihri." Aegon's voice was unlike his normal voice, dissonant, out of phase, split at the seams. "In the name of Righteousness, in the name of Defiance, will you answer?" He felt the ribbon crack into pieces, one of which travelled towards Pihri and wrapped around him and around the slab of dragonglass.
"I, Pihri, Unsullied and Free Man, will answer in the name of Righteousness and in the name of Defiance, and beseech you to take what I give freely and transform what is wrong into what is right, with my blood" through the haze of the energies that were at play, Aegon saw the blood, aglow in way he'd never seen before, seep down into the groove in front of Pihri. "and with my life and all that I am."
The dragonglass slab turned alight, a deep blue glow rose from within the dragonglass, the fire waking, the energy ascendant, and so too ascendant was the life-force and the halo that surround Pihri, a pristineness that was now as untouched as the softest and whitest of snows at the tops of mountains.
Aegon felt the shift in the room, a shift that began to transform the piece of red ribbon into the same nature and pristineness of Pihri whilst also beginning to suffuse itself with the intent and Will of Pihri, his intent and Will of Righteousness, of Defiance and his desire to transform what was Wrong into what was Right.
"Ahri." A piece of the red ribbon, entangled with Aegon's Will, travelled to the man whose name had fallen out of Aegon's mouth.
"I, Ahri, Unsullied and Free Man, will answer in the name of Righteousness and in the name of Defiance, and beseech you to take what I give and transform what is wrong into what is right, with my blood and with my life and all that I am."
Again the red ribbon was made to transform by the intent and the will and the desire of the Unsullied, transforming spiritual energy that lacked direction and meaning into one full of meaning, full of desire, full of will, and the dragonglass slab was made to wake and made to touch upon the Being that was Ahri.
Again Aegon spoke a name, Ekes, and again the red ribbon transformed and a dragonglass slab turned alight.
Again and again and again, Aegon said a name and transformations occurred, until finally, the last of the Unsullied spoke and sparked his transformation, rendering the last of the red ribbons gone and cast the entire chamber in an ethereal white glow that made it seem as if it was bathed by the light of a white star.
The dragonflame seemed no more than a blue speck in the midst of the sea that breathed out purpose and righteous intent into the chamber and the decay and the malignance that emanated from the cursed dagger shrunk into a shadow of itself, resembled more like a wounded animal stuck in a corner surrounded by a pack of wolves.
And it was at this moment, this moment of high transformation, fuel provided by the residual energies of beaten foes and the fuel provided by frozen fire borne from the fires beneath the earth, with the idea and the desire provided by the eight men with all of their Being, that Aegon provided the intent and Will and sought to impose the solidification of the desired effect.
"I, Aegon, Free Man" the dissonance that had been in his voice was gone, its place taken nought but by a melodic choric voice "take what Pihri, Ahri, Ekes, Rigarys, Riqez, Ozip, Shizlo, Srardan, have given with your blood -" the blood that had pooled in the depression began to take in some of the pristine nature of the spiritual energy into itself and into the dragonbone
"- and what you have given with your life and with all that you are -" Aegon saw the pulling effect within the dragonglass slabs and the pushing effects that he was witness to within the very being of the eight men, all of it seeping out of them like water out of wet cloth, and Aegon felt the heaviness of the transformation on his very skin, deep below it too, and he found himself focused into a single, singular desire fuelled by a Will that was unified mentally, spiritually, emotionally.
"- and I will transform what is wrong into what is right." The cursed dagger flew upwards, into the dragonflame, and the flame turned, at the point of the cursed dagger's insertion, poisonous green that quickly turned into a necrotic black as poisonous green veins travelled up through the ball of flame, inside and out.
Aegon raised his hands once more, and the sea of spiritual energy that was suffused with overwhelming meaning and intent, that carried the very essence of eight brave loyal faithful men, spiralled upwards, towards the dragonflame, and surrounded it on all sides just as the poison spread more than halfway through the dragonflame.
Aegon brought his hands closer to each other, not yet quite touching palm to palm, and not quite understanding of the guidance that Aegon felt himself driven by, a guidance that was provided by the sea that contained the essence of the eight men who devoted their blood, their life and all that they were, to this single, singular transformation, and it was this guidance, that provided the signal for Aegon to complete the ritual and so, his hands touched upon palm and palm, and so, the sea of spiritual energy contracted around the poisoned dragonflame.
A dull shriek, a stifled shriek that bore remnants of its otherworldly and demonic origin, emanated through the sea of spiritual energy, a shriek that lived and died within a single moment as the spiritual energy collapsed into the dragonflame and into the cursed dagger, tearing and seeping into the very nature of the sliver, and then, it began to transform.
The very structure of what it is, what it hungers after, was altered as the sea of spiritual energy collapsed and shrunk and sunk within the cursed dagger wholly, totally, and the cursed dagger was withered away by the sheer power of the change, of the transformation, and it left only behind a glowing blob that was black as it was white, a dual nature that signified its power to consume what is wrong and rebirth it into what is right, and Aegon closed his fists to bring about Finality.
And so, the blob of dual nature careened downwards, towards the dragonbone staff, and it sunk into the head of the staff, suffusing into the bone and spread through the pores of the staff seeped in the blood of the Righteous and the Defiant and the Faithful, and Aegon watched as all light from within the chamber died except of the light that emanated from the dragonbone staff, a light that was entwined with the darkest of blacks and the lightest of whites, united through crimson thread-like twines that ran from end to head of the staff, and Aegon felt himself return into clarity, into full consciousness, and it took considerable effort to slowly descend down the molten stone dais he was seated upon.
Finally, once the molten stone slab was rested upon the lead plate, Aegon pulled at the twin flames within the stone and cast the chamber in its light, allowing Aegon to see fully the consequences of the ritual…his ritual.
The bodies…the faces…of the eight men…
Aegon placed one foot on the ground, and then the next, and slowly, he walked towards Pihri and when he arrived, he crouched down, taking in fully what he'd done to the man…to all of these men.
Their skin…their skin had sunk into itself, flesh beneath the skin had withered away, causing skin to hug onto bone, all moisture, all water, all blood, was gone from the man's face, from the man's body, leaving behind only a desiccated body with hollow eye-sockets.
Aegon closed his eye, a well of emotion – gratitude, sadness, humbled awe, guilt – threatening to subsume him, but Aegon pushed it all down, pushing it to the farthest corners of his being, next to all of the guilt he felt and buried, and Aegon reopened his eye and moved one arm under the legs of Pihri and the other around his back, and he lifted the body as he stood up and walked back towards the passage way he'd entered from.
Aegon did this for all of the eight men. For Ahri, for Ekes, for Rigarys, for Riqez, for Ozip, for Shizlo, for Srardan. All of them, and he'd laid them side by side at the entrance of the cave, with Mīsaragorn watching over the bodies like a sentinel.
It was only then that Aegon returned for the Staff, a staff that remained aglow and teeming with power, and Aegon crouched down beside the staff for a long moment before he moved, before he moved and touched the staff, accepting whatever outcome was to be from this ritual he conducted.
It was an odd thing, when Aegon wrapped his hand around the staff and lifted it out of the depression, with nothing happening, with no feeling of might or feeling of being destroyed touching upon his being.
It was as if he was carrying nothing more than a staff made of dragonbone.
Yet Aegon knew it was not true. He could see it. He could sense it, even if it showed nought of its secrets. It was almost a furnace of spiritual energy, almost, and Aegon could sense that the nature, the intent, of the sliver of the Outer Entity, was successfully transformed.
Aegon raised the staff and he watched studiously at the way it behaved, the way it almost seemed akin to a sentient being and Aegon realised that it might well be somewhat sentient, with the essence of the eight men, their wishes, their desires, their faith, suffused into the very nature and intent of the sliver of the Outer Entity, creating a new essence from something that once sought to consume souls and life of humans, into something that'd consume others that resembled it in its likeness.
Aegon lowered the staff and he began to pack up all of the stuff that remained in the chamber, the belongings of the Unsullied, their remaining supplies, everything, and he made his way towards Mīsaragorn through the passageways and the caves.
When he arrived, he arrived at the sight of the morning sun, he realised that the ritual must have taken quite some time, hours, for it to have reached this time of day…
Aegon walked towards the bodies and Mīsaragorn, and he was startled slightly when the staff grew in power, grew in intensity, and Aegon realised the staff was reacting to the presence of Mīsaragorn and Aegon reacted too, violently, as he turned his eye and his being towards the staff.
"Not Mīsaragorn. Not any dragon…" Aegon's voice was quiet, said so more to combine with the full breadth of his will so as to impose his order and his view onto the Staff and It stopped reacting, its power and intensity going dormant once more, seemingly having understood and obeyed, and Aegon, after calming down, looked at the Staff with a measure of wonder and a measure of wariness, Mīsaragorn's dangerous growl sounding out in the background.
Aegon realised that there was much to be learned about the Staff, a staff that had Valyrian Steel spikes – though to call the metal Valyrian Steel was perhaps not quite right – and it took some considerable effort to set aside the thought and the event, for now, and he turned his gaze towards the bodies in front of him, the well of emotion, sorrow and gratitude the strongest of them all, grew once more.
Aegon stepped aside, away from the bodies, and he didn't say anything – he didn't need to – for Mīsaragorn to breathe out a flame towards the bodies, a flame that Aegon watched consume the bodies wholly, totally.
"Thank you…" Aegon said, those two words having poured within them all that he felt, and it would never be enough for what they have given him. For what they wanted to do for him. What he hoped they accomplished in doing.
Aegon watched as the flames died down, watching on as no body and no bones remained, and only after the last flames died down into embers, did Aegon move towards the cave entrance.
He spent the next little while transferring the frozen fire from within the dragonglass shards and boulders into the smaller and empty red garnet gems, filling them just in case he needed them if what was to come next went awry, and then, when he was done, he went towards Mīsaragorn and climbed atop his dragon.
Aegon went towards one of the saddlebags and pulled out a Valyrian Steel dagger and he placed the Staff in between his legs before he unsheathed the dagger and placed the tip onto the dragonbone Staff, right near the coated head of the Staff.
The surface of the dragonbone Staff was one that was etched in crimson thread-like twines that ran from end to head of the Staff, a stark contrast to the bone-white of the Staff, and Aegon was relieved to find out that the Staff was not so distinctly changed that it could resist being carved into as the tip of the dagger sunk a little into the bone.
Aegon spent the next hour carving, slowly and carefully, into the dragonbone Staff, and once he was done, he took hold of the Staff and held it out outstretched.
He used the first letter of the names of the eight men for the Staff and it read 'Paerros', with the 's' looping into another 's' that was turned one-eighty degrees underneath the 'Paerros', the last symbol of the name of the Staff.
The Staff of Paerros. A staff made by sacrifice to wield against those who had no right to remain in this world of men and living beings.
Who had no right to dictate the paths in which humanity was to take.
"You will never be forgotten." Aegon said quietly as he stared at the Staff for a long moment before he sighed silently and placed the Staff beside his saddle and fastened it tightly onto the side of the saddle.
"Let's go, Mīsaragorn." Aegon said quietly whilst he tapped on his scales and Mīsaragorn growled lowly before he rose to his full height and began his runoff, his wings spreading slightly as his legs thumped down onto the sands of the beach, and it was not long before they were airborne, flying towards remote regions of the Mountains of the Moons, where they would recover for the day in anticipation for the next day…
The day that would either see him reach an accord with the beings pretending to be Gods or…a day that would be his last in this world.
And he, Aegon thought, had come to accept either outcome.
'I'm sorry Gael…but my vow to protect you and our children comes above all other promises…'
For come what may, Aegon would never allow the Old Gods to spread their rot in his Elamaerys and infect his family in the same way they infected countless generations on this damnable continent.
The Next Day…
Aegon was kneeling in front of the campfire, the light of the bright half-moon in the clear night sky raining down onto the peaks and faces of the mountains, as Aegon picked up the Valyrian Steel helm reforged from the countless little trinkets, a helm that had no opening and was slitted with the bands too small to fit in an arrow head, and he lifted it above him before he placed it down onto his head.
Aegon stood back up, his armour, an armour mostly made of Elamaeri steel underneath a chainmail made from Elamaeri steel, clinked and clanked by his motion and Aegon stretched himself before he looked towards the half-moon and the stars that the skies revealed.
Aegon then looked away, and, with a wave of the hand, the campfire bloomed into a great pyre of fire, which snaked and weaved around Aegon before he guided the flames towards a single large stone that had stood beside him.
The flames sunk into the stone, and it did not take long for it glow red-hot.
Aegon then closed his hands, and the red-hot stone began to split apart, into six large pieces the size of his head, and the stones flew towards Aegon, revolving around him, fully under his control, fully tied into his will and direction.
Aegon began to walk towards Mīsaragorn who stood watch with his large green eyes and Aegon, once he arrived at his dragon, placed his gauntleted hand on the underside of Mīsaragorn's maw.
If all things failed, if he was to die today, this night, Mīsaragorn knew what he had to do, and what he would have to do once he was done with the acts.
To return home.
Though Mīsaragorn had never seen Elamaerys and the islands around it with his own eyes, Mīsaragorn had seen it through Aegon, and his dragon knew where Elamaerys lay.
He would have to shed his armour first, something that Mīsaragorn would quite enjoy doing, but Mīsaragorn could fly directly to the Targaryen Islands after he rested and recovered on The Arbor.
It would take, likely, two or three days of non-stop flying, at high altitude, above the clouds where the air is thin and freezing, but Mīsaragorn was old enough and strong enough to be capable of it.
From there, Mīsaragorn would likely need at least another three or even a week to recover and to rebuild his strength before he made the final journey to Elamaerys, which would be the most perilous journey for if Mīsaragorn got lost…
Mīsaragorn growled, breaking Aegon out of his thoughts and Aegon smiled as he patted his dragon's bottom jaw scales. "I don't plan on dying." Only making sure that if he was to die, Mīsaragorn could rejoin his family instead of remaining in this place that would only see him as a weapon.
Mīsaragorn puffed smoke through his nose, which went directly through the visor of his helm and Aegon was forced to rear back his head a little, even coughing slightly, and Aegon felt the scales on the bottom of Mīsaragorn's jaw stretch back, and Aegon saw, once the smoke cleared, Mīsaragorn's draconic lips stretched back to reveal his teeth, and he didn't need to feel it through the bond, feelings of challenge, to know that Mīsaragorn was quite unhappy with his train of thought and the strange acceptance that Aegon could help but feel.
Though the dragons were as intelligent as perhaps even humans, it was hard for them to understand that dragonflame and claws and teeth sometimes weren't enough to defeat an enemy…
Mīsaragorn growled once more and it broke Aegon from his thoughts and he smiled at his dragon, scratching now in between the scales. "Don't worry…we've gotten too far, gone too far, to meekly die." Aegon's smile turned sharp with cold anger rising within.
'And I have a promise that I am utmost loathed to break…'
Mīsaragorn growl turned low and his draconic lips relaxed and Aegon felt a similar anger within Mīsaragorn, a happy anger, one that made it clear of his happiness about Aegon's anger, and Aegon tapped at the scales of his dragon's maw before he walked around and climbed atop Mīsaragorn's back.
Aegon waved his hand, and the six pieces of molten stone that held within his inner flames, flew towards him and Aegon opened the saddle bags and guided them to into the bags.
After all, there was no reason for him to tire himself out by controlling them during the flight. Finally, when he settled properly in his saddle, Aegon tapped at Mīsaragorn's scales "Fly, Mīsaragorn." Aegon said in a quiet murmur as he sat back into his saddle, and the cold anger within him settled firm and stout, an anger that he refused to relinquish.
…
…
Later…
Mīsaragorn's fleshy wings beat violently against the air as he remained in place hundreds of feet above the God's Eye, and Aegon breathed out heavily through his nose, his arms rising, and the six pieces that carried his inner flames flew out of the saddlebags, and Aegon, with a focused thought, moved two them into place, and the pieces flew towards each arm.
The sound of the stone hitting his armour a dull sound amidst Mīsaragorn's fleshy wings flapping as the molten stone changed and weaved around his arms to form into something akin to circlets though they took form all around his upper arm.
Aegon leaned down and remove the fastening strings from around the Staff beside him and he picked it up before he stood up from his saddle, the four remaining pieces at the same time coming closer to his body.
Aegon glanced down below.
He did not want to risk Mīsaragorn landing on the shores of the isle and risk exposing him to the mercies of their enemies. It had been stupid, last time, to land Mīsaragorn on the shores of the isle – a day filled with stupidity and desperation – especially now that he knew better who and what exactly he was dealing with.
And so, he had come up with a way to arrive at the isle, not by boat on waters with creatures underneath that were almost certainly under their control, one that they would have to let happen lest they expose themselves to retributory attacks by Mīsaragorn.
Aegon moved one of the molten stone pieces towards his right leg, and, with a small gesture of the hand, Aegon flattened down the molten piece, into a disc, and lifted his leg onto the disc-like platform which he repeated again for his left leg.
When his feet were both on the platforms, Aegon moved the discs upward after he'd undone the lock of the chain that held him into the saddle, and welded the two discs into a single platform whilst the two remaining pieces moved in front of him.
The two pieces melded into one another before they changed and formed into a long rod that jointed with the top face of the platform after which the end of the rod changed into a long handlebar which Aegon took hold of.
Aegon breathed out heavily.
The focus to do all that he was doing, including keeping the platform still whilst also changing the very structure of the stone through his inner flames all whilst maintaining separate connections to each of the stones…
It was not easy.
Aegon gripped tightly with his hand onto the handle bar and slowly, the platform began to veer away from Mīsaragorn and his dragon carefully moved away his body so as to his wings did not generate winds that would cause for him.
'Go.' Aegon thought as he met the gaze of his dragon. Mīsaragorn would circle around whilst he was down there, and would respond to his calls through their bond if Aegon had need of his dragon.
Mīsaragorn growled lightly, his teeth showing, but his dragon obeyed and began, slowly, drift away from him. Aegon turned away from his dragon, and looked downwards, before he, with a heavy intake of breathe, began to fall.
The platform descended with tremendous speed, as fast as when Mīsaragorn dove towards the ground or water from high up, and Aegon paid no attention to anything beyond the quickly approaching ground, and, finally, when he was no more than less than a hundred feet from the ground, did he yank at the connection he held with the platform, forcing it, forcing his inner flame within the stone, to slow its descent.
And slowing it did, for the shores of the isle came at him far slower than it did before, and when the ground was no more than a dozen feet away from him, did Aegon slow the descent even further.
The platform settled onto the sands with a dull thump and Aegon balanced himself quickly found his footing and avoided falling down ungracefully on the ground.
He did not waste a single moment and transformed the platform again, though he took care to only take what he need, concentrating his inner flames into much smaller pieces of the platform which sheared off from the main body of the platform and orbited around Aegon, whose hands, one firmly on the staff and the other on the hilt of his Valyrian Steel sword, prepared himself as he cast his eyes towards the treeline, a treeline that once seemed so dark that was now alight and aglow with spiritual energy deep within.
And there was so, so much of it.
He'd never seen so much concentrated in a single area. 'And this is me being beyond the treeline…' Aegon thought grimly as he stared across the treeline, waiting, watching, for the invitation to come once more.
And Aegon waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And not once did Aegon let his guard down, not once did he take away his eye from the across the treeline.
To enter the abode of the non-friendly, was bad enough as it was but to do so uninvited…well…
Aegon's gaze sharpened when he saw the dark grey spiritual energy that teemed within the dark of the forest move ever so slightly, and Aegon realised that it was a person coming his way, a single person, unlike the last time where he'd been greeted by a party of Green Men.
As the figure neared, Aegon grew assured that the figure was a man, or a tall woman, with a nature that did not seem at all dissimilar from the furnace of spiritual energy that was behind the man.
It was like he was an ember of it…almost like how dragonflame…
Aegon stilled his thoughts as he watched the man come closer and closer, until, finally, the man was no more than twenty paces away from him, and Aegon noted that the man made no noise as he'd walked, as if the winds had absorbed his steps.
Aegon could not see the man's, or woman's, face, not like last time, instead, he could only see their halo, a halo that seemed almost reminiscent to that of the Unsullied, even if the state of mind was different…
He could see the figure's markings, markings he'd seen in a number of Riverlands Lords and knights, and within the Darry knight, the markings he attributed to that of the Ancestral Song of the First Men…
"Son of the Long Summer. You have come again." The cloaked figure said, a male voice, and the way the hood moved, it seemed the man turned to look at his Staff.
"I have." Aegon said calmly, his eye unblinkingly staring at the abyss in the hood of the man. The man said nothing for a long moment and Aegon had nothing to say to the Green Man…or whatever he was, and it was only after several long moments passed that the man moved, angling his body from Aegon.
"The path is the same as the one you treaded before."
Aegon inclined his head at the Green Man and soon enough, his molten stone pieces orbiting around him, Aegon followed the path he'd once taken before, his defensive wariness never faltering as he tilted his head in such a way that allowed him to react if one approach him from behind.
He reached the treeline and followed the stone road deep into the bowels of the Forest, his eye, through the slitted visor, taking in everything he was seeing and he was seeing so much…
As Aegon walked up the steps of the ancient stones, he begun to hear whispers, whispers that grew in numbers though it was not the only thing he was witness to.
And, as he kept walking, he took hold of each and every Weirwood Tree on the path, trees that had the same kind of halos surrounding people with but, at their very centre, there two white embers in the shape of eyes, eyes that tracked his every step, every inch deeper into the Forest…watching him…
The whispers grew in numbers but they were so faint, so unintelligible, and the whispers seemed as if it was all around him, even if distant, even if so quiet, and Aegon couldn't help but muse if this was the kind of whispers he'd read about…'the voices of the Old Gods'.
Whispers, 'the voices of the Old Gods', that were said to guide men in their times of need, and Aegon thought the method may well be the same kind of mechanism these beings used to directly affect a person and in turn cause an effect they wanted in an event, in a period…in something.
If the first Andals that'd come to Westeros had heard these whispers…
No wonder they sought to cut down these trees, he thought as the Presence he once felt before but did not understand, a Presence of something other, suddenly arrived, and it validated his suspicions before with its similarity…
It was the same kind of Presence he felt on Toad Isle. The same kind of Presence he felt when he was in that astral plane…and the same kind of Presence he realised he felt on Dragonstone during the Ritual.
The Staff begun to react, the dormant power within it waking in the presence of so many beings that stood rooted within hundreds…thousands of these trees.
Aegon supplanted his will onto the Staff, calming it, keeping it neutral, for now, and the Staff, though awake, was more dormant than active, he could sense, he thought as he glanced towards the roots of the Weirwood Tree he was walking past, roots that he could see, had in others, aglow and extending far below the earth.
There were different shades to it. To Presences. Different shades and different flavours and different magnitudes, no doubt, but it was the kind of feeling that indicated a convergence of at least great deal of spiritual energy…
And a great deal of intent.
Beings that were no friends of his, this Aegon had long ago deciphered but he could also sense that they were…content to observe him instead of reacting.
Unlike last time, Aegon thought as he continued to walk through the Forest, the Presence growing thicker in magnitude the deeper he went into the Forest, and the Presence continued to grow in magnitude, even if its intent was not yet aggressive, well until he finally arrived at the end of the path and at the massive Weirwood Tree that towered over all of the other trees he'd seen along the path to this place.
Aegon couldn't help but feel a sense of grim wonder at the tree, at the sheer amount of spiritual energy it had and how much further and deeper he could see the roots extending down below the earth…nor could he hide the grim trepidation he felt at the magnitude of the halo that surrounded this tree.
Whomever was within this tree…whatever…they must have been truly powerful.
'Is still powerful…' Aegon thought as he clenched his teeth when the giant two white eyes, eyes without pupils or irises, were set upon him, and it felt so invasive the way the spiritual energies that permeated throughout this place converged on him, pressing into him from all corners and Aegon raised his Staff in response.
The Staff reacted to him akin to a pet crooning under his touch, flaring violently, so much so that its power pushed back at the invasive nature of whatever it was that was pushing on him but Aegon stopped the Staff from doing what was natural to it now. "Enough…" Aegon grounded out as he met the gaze of the two giant white eyes though he said nothing else.
For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen.
The invasive Presence continued to push and his Staff continued to push back and Aegon's eye began to narrow at the seemingly stalemate nature of the situation and he kept his nerve through the long, long, silence and the stalemate, unwilling as he was to escalate the situation any further, his mind always on the goal of why he was here…
Finally, the Presence receded back and away from around him, and Aegon's eye flickered towards the right side of the massive tree where, underneath one of the large roots, where he saw a figure, a much smaller figure than the Green Man, step out from.
Aegon lowered his Staff ever so slightly, and the Staff reacted to him, dimming in spiritual energy and in intent, and he watched with a studious eye at the nature of this little demon…this Child of the Forest.
It was immediately apparent that the Child of the Forest had a greater deal of spiritual energy than men and, as Aegon focused his gaze onto the Child of the Forest that continued to walk towards him.
When the Child of The Forest was close enough, he could see something deeper, something beyond skin and life-force, the markings he'd seen in 'special' people.
An Ancestral Song.
And this Child of the Forest… it had what he thought to be similar markings as that as the First Men Ancestral Song though he could perceive that it might as well be called something unique. That much he could tell even with his limited capabilities…
The markings were also stronger than what he'd seen in a person, more…vibrant and alive. It was the best way he could describe what he could see in the Child of the Forest…
In a way, it was comparable to the difference he saw between Rhaenyra and Baelon, whose markings were…weaker than the others, save for Viserys.
But he doubted that it was all that similar because Baelon and Viserys were oddities, through chance, whereas this…this was by design.
Aegon did not let his eye look away from the Child of the Forest, even as the leaves rustled loudly, violently, though his gaze momentarily looked away from the Child of the Forest when suddenly light from the half-moon cast down throughout this place, throughout and through the blood red leaves, and, where before it had been shrouded in the dark, with only the molten stones that orbited him providing dim light, there was now enough light to allow him to see the the Child of the Forest properly.
He thought he recognised this Child of the Forest. This male one. The same nut-brown skin, the same sticks and roots for clothing, and the same uncaring black eyes on a scaled-like face.
"Aegon. First of his Name." the words flowed out from the Child of the Forest's mouth so musically that it almost sounded akin to a short sequence of the piano notes played with the softest, deftest of fingers, the same words that the Child of the Forest had used that fateful day…
And Aegon did not fail to notice there was something 'magical' about the way the Child of the Forest spoke, its halo having behaved strangely during its speech…
"You returned after you declared you would not." The Child of the Forest said without accusation or change in its expression.
Aegon nodded slightly, the sound of his helm moving discordant in the wake of the still silence that pervaded through the area. "I return because I must. Now that I understand the price you demanded."
"The bargain remains unchanged, Aegon, first of his Name." His eye narrowed at the way the surroundings around the Child of the Forest shifted with the melodious note of its voice.
"Only death can release you now from the oath you swore before the Old Gods."
The corner around Aegon's eye tightened as he stared unblinkingly at the Child of the Forest for a long moment before he looked away and looked towards the massive tree that stood behind the Child of the Forest, whose white eyes were staring directly in his sole one.
"I do not seek death this day." He said, the corners of his mouth raising as he stared directly into the eyes of the being that dwelled in the massive Weirwood Tree.
Aegon continued, turning his eye back towards the Child of the Forest. "Nor do I believe it will come for me this day…One-Who-Sings-The-Song-Of-The-Earth."
He could see the halo around the being react, even if the face remain stone-cold and its eyes unblinking. "You once said that my Song was not one of yours. And that I ought to be grateful of that." Aegon began calmly, his voice carrying no real emotion, something that continued as he spoke further.
"I pondered on that phrase often, obsessively, as I did with every other word you spoke that day, and I have come to realise what it meant. What my Song meant." Aegon said, his hand tightening around the Staff which reacted to him. "And what the Song of Ice and Fire also means."
The Child of the Forest did not physically react, not that Aegon thought the creature would. They might have seen it coming. His words.
These beings could see the future, after all. In some way. Different than seeing through the flames, but nonetheless, he imagined that they too had a way of either gaining glimpses of the future through similar means as others had in this world or through the trees, even if it was less powerful.
After all, it was not foolproof. Otherwise, the Children of the Forest would not be practically extinct nor would there be any humans on this land.
"Something has lain claim on my Fate." Aegon said with a grim look on his face as he placed the bottom of the Staff on the ground, his next words though calm, were said with a measured undertone of coldness. "Just as you have lain claim to many members of the main branch of my House." Though he could see no physical reaction, he could see the halo around the Child of the Forest react to his words.
"And this something that claims me, has prohibited you, or your kin in your Weirwood Trees, or that Three Eyed Crow -" these string of words caused the greatest reaction in the Child of the Forest though it left him with no satisfaction as he was talking about things he had no real wish to speak of in the hopes that he could end this encounter without dying or declaring a war that he did not want to fight "- from killing me long before I first stepped on your isle."
Whether it was God or something else, like the Amethyst Gem, this was a fundamental truth that Aegon accepted. There was no way he could exist in this world without a measure of protection against the likes of these beings.
"The day you swore your oath was the day that changed." The Child of the Forest said and Aegon sensed the shift in the tone of voice alongside the side around its halo, the melodious way the thing spoke taking on a different, harder quality.
Aegon's eye narrowed as a familiar swell of dogged determination rose from within him. The kind of determination he always felt in the height of battle, when he was a single sword swing away from death…
"So it has." Aegon said in answer, the Staff in hand reacted to his emotions, to his determination, the might of the Staff stronger than ever before, and the Staff of dual nature, bloomed, and webs of spiritual energy made of twin spirals, one the blackest of obsidian and the other the brightest of moonlight, surrounded Aegon.
Just in time too, for Aegon heard the whispers and the winds howl in what could only be described as thunderous volume, and he saw the Presence around him resurge with stark and dangerous intent, surrounding the web of twinned spirals but not yet attacking.
Aegon's eyes darkened as the molten pieces of stone began to spiral faster around him whilst Aegon pulled on his connection with Mīsaragorn, calling him closer but not yet urging him to act, staring intently at the Child of the Forest in front of him.
The thunderous volume of the howling winds and the whispers, whispers that resembled more like screeches and nails on blackboards, continued on for a long while, the Presence these beings exuded and surrounded him remaining primed to attack in whatever unknown way, but Aegon…
Aegon remained firm, firm in his position, firm in his belief that these Old Gods…
"Release me of this oath" his words seemed to penetrate through the howls of the winds and the screeches of the whispers, and Aegon looked away from the Child of the Forest and looked towards the massive Weirwood Tree. "Release me from my oath and I will consider swearing a new oath, one that I understand and will not seek to relinquish." There was the carrot…take it…
Mīsaragorn's roar broke through all of the thunderous noise, noise that begun to die down every second that passed.
"Twice you broke your word." The Child of the Forest said, its expression growing harder. "As your kind and all the rest of your kin has always done."
"I did not vow never to return, merely words spoken, words that were said before you extracted a price from me" Aegon said grimly as he watched the Presence fade away slightly and Aegon did the same, holding more of the Staff's hunger back.
"Nor have I broken the oath I swore for the city I promised to plant the seed in has yet to be born and as you have said, death can release me of the oath if you will not release me of the oath you had me swear in ignorance." Aegon said, this time his tone of voice carrying an edge of coldness. "Death I will generously share but it does not have to be this way." Aegon added, calmness returning to his voice.
The expression on the Child of the Forest hardened even more at those words but Aegon wasn't playing. He was more than happy to burn everything these things had, including their plans.
Starting with this Isle, the Blackwoods and the Starks.
The journals that Aegon sent included information that would help ensure that his family and Elamaerys would see these Old Gods and their followers as enemies.
And so too would the Red Faith become enemies of the Old Gods.
He would go absolutely nuclear with them if he had to.
He hoped that he did not have to do that.
"You once said that your Old Gods accepted the presence of my Song…my existence which has changed what was sung to be." He…Aegon was almost certainly meant to die early. Perhaps even as an infant.
Because of him, countless fates have been changed irrevocably. Because of him, the…variables that these beings relied on to craft their Song of Ice and Fire had to be changed and Aegon greatly suspected that his brother's death was…
"You accepted my existence. Regardless of whether or not you were capable of refusing. So I ask, release me of this oath and accept that your Old Gods, your Songs, have no place in Elamaerys. Accept that you have no claim over me and my descendants." Aegon's expression grew harder and his hand tighten even more on his Staff and it took considerable effort not to want to lash out and see witness to what his Staff was capable of, of what Mīsaragorn could do against these things.
"Accept that Elamaerys and my branch of the last of the Song of Fire -" these words, particularly the last words, caused the Child of the Forest's expression to slacken in its hardness but it was his halo that Aegon took note of. It was wild. Wilder than before.
And it wasn't the only thing to react to Aegon's words for Aegon had the impression, just beyond the barrier the Staff created, a million eyes set upon him.
"Are not yours to sing to an end."
He'd long wondered what the Song of Ice and Fire really meant.
A song of Fate that was weaved ever since these idiots created the White Walkers.
If one looked hard enough, obsessively enough, in the histories of the world, looking for commonalities, looking to piece together a timeline and events that made sense, you get the sense, the idea, that there was a great deal of interlinked history.
And when one had the context, the knowledge, that he had about this world, even if it was incomplete, it all started to make sense.
The Gemstone Emperors were emblematic of tribes of people, not necessarily only emperors, even if they likely did exist.
The tribes of this world dispersed, over time, with some of these peoples holding within them an Ancestral Song either by then or not long after but he leaned towards it being during the era of the Empire of the Dawn, an empire that was as magical as Old Valyria had been…perhaps more so…much much more so.
In any case, when it came to his ancestors, the people that would once become the Valyrians, there are hints in the world that suggest that the Valyrians did not become what they were famed for, for a very, very long time.
It was likely that there were mages amongst them, not unlike the Rhoynish, but they did not have their dragons and they did not have their famed fused stone and their famed Valyrian Steel…Dragon Steel.
No…all of that came many, many years after they left the Empire of the Dawn and many years after they'd settled in the peninsula known as Valyria.
And Aegon had finally found the last pieces to the puzzle that he spent years building…pieces from ancient tomes from different regions of Essos, a few from Myr, one from the Disputed Lands and another in Meereen, all whom written in classical Valyrian, different in context and different of authors, but all of them, all of them, indicated that the Valyrians had outside influence at the dawn of the civilisation that would become the Kingdom of Valyria and later…the Freehold.
Influence that had come right around the time of the Long Night in Westeros, and it was by a people that 'had no name' and a people 'as small as children but wiser than any greybeard'.
The dating system the Valyrians used was archaic and it was one that was a bit familiar to that of what he knew the Chinese used in his world, so it was difficult to ascertain when exactly the books had been written.
But enough told him that at least a few of the books were written during the wars with the Rhoynar, which was near the height of the power of the Freehold.
That the authors, who were undoubtedly Valyrian, could write to speak of others teaching their ancestors, despite the Valyrians being a highly prideful people, told him much that this was an accepted view amongst the Valyrians at the time.
And who is it has who has no name? Who is it that resembled children in stature?
And who is that knew blood magic and rituals unlike most other people in this world?
…He was staring at directly at the teachers who taught the Valyrians.
The teachers that 'sung a secret song to bring back the day'. They used the Valyrians as a means to an end during the Long Night, teaching them magic and likely building up on what the Valyrians had known in that time, so much so that a likely outcome had been Dragon Steel, as the Children of the Forest were not known to be able to work metal, particularly iron, and honestly, when you thought about it, the Children of the Forest were more like the Fae than they were not.
Certainly, as fucking tricky as they were.
Given that the stories and tales that he'd been exposed during all of his hunting about the history of this world, stories that told of the extinction of the giants across much of Essos and Westeros after they'd warred with the Children of the Forest, a which might well have extended to the mazebuilders, also known as the Mazemakers, a kind of half-giant offshoot of humans, he was not surprised that the extents these creatures would go to win.
In any case, the Valyrians, the Dragonlords, were the Fire in the Song of Ice and Fire, and the Ice was obviously the White Walkers, the creatures they created to stop their human enemies.
What was a song for but to end eventually? In that sense, how could a Song of Ice and Fire be understood as nothing more than these fuckheads hoping to use his family to destroy an creation of their own that wants nothing more than to destroy them…and the rest of the world in the same process, and at the same time, bring to an end to the last of the dragons…literal and figuratively.
The howls and the whispers around him grew into a storming racket, so loud that Aegon had to grimace at the way his ears were being harmed and the Presence that surrounding him now begun to directly attack the web that protected him and Aegon, with a heavy heart but with one that was determined to fight and kill his way out of the situation he was in, commanded his Staff. And his Staf…
It obeyed.
A massive bloom of multi-web twin spirals ejected from around him, so large was the bloom that the Presence around him was pushed back more than a dozen feet, then two dozen feet, and Aegon saw the spirals from his Staff spliced apart into dozens, into hundreds, of hook like things that a dual nature and Aegon watched as the hook-like stems of spiritual energy began to eat away at the Presence that was around him and Aegon…
Aegon stepped forward.
'Mīsaragorn come' Aegon commanded as he stared angrily at the Child of the Forest. 'I did not want this…I was willing to step away so long as you left us alone.' Aegon thought angrily as he eyed the thing who had begun to step back and away from the dome like web of spirals that surrounded Aegon and the balls of molten stone pieces that orbited around him in a furious spin, were at a moment's notice from being used as he noticed other figures approaching from the depths of the Fores-
Aegon's gaze snapped towards his right and his eye widened at the sudden appearance of a ghostly figure…a ghostly figure that shocked him.
It was not quite a ghost, but the figure was unsolid, very unlike the way he'd seen Bloodraven and Bran Stark. It was a man, an old man, a beard that came up about halfway down his chest, but what really surprised him, was the eyes the man bore and the Staff that was in his hand.
"You do not belong here." The Child of the Forest's voice weaved itself through the howls and the screeches that surrounded him, and the voice was tinged with no small degree of anger, and Aegon snapped his gaze towards the Child of the Forest and he saw then that the Child was looking at the ghostly figure.
The Presence around him began to fade away once more though Aegon did not allow his Staff to relax, so angry was he about their refusal to see reason.
The ghostly figure began to walk towards Aegon, slowly, and Aegon did not relent in his readiness to attack, even in all of his confusion.
The old man's eyes…
They were dichromatic…with the same shades of eye colour his had been.
'Mīsaragorn wait' Aegon thought as he felt his dragon through his bond.
Amethyst and Emerald but there was a difference. His left eye was emerald. Aegon's emerald eye had been his right eye.
"That day…you did not speak to me when you said I did not belong." Aegon realised as he looked towards the Child of the Forest who did not break away its sight from the ghostly figure, as if it was a greater threat than Aegon.
"Stop." Aegon commanded when the ghostly figure kept on coming but the old man, whose lips were moving but he could not hear, kept on moving, a faint smile on his face and Aegon…and Aegon was unsure what to do.
Was this an illusion? A trap by these things?
Aegon made a few of the stone pieces flew towards him, not at deadly speeds and not at areas that could easily him, but they simply…flew through the old man and Aegon was subjected to a raised eyebrow and a look of mild amusement.
It was a look of 'oh really…'
Aegon eyed the Staff that the man had, a very, very familiar staff and he had to accept that it was the same, the very exact, Staff he was holding in this moment in time.
Aegon looked towards his staff and towards the dome that it emanated and as the man walked through the dome, Aegon studied the reactions of his Staff…
And there were no reactions, alarming Aegon greatly.
"What are you?" Aegon found himself asking and the man turned to look towards the Child of the Forest and Aegon found himself growing deeper in wariness and he was about to call on Mīsaragorn to attack this place when the Child of the Forest spoke.
"He is part of the claim you spoke of." The Child of the Forest said in a strange voice, which was unpleasant to hear with the way its melodious voice changed.
"A twine in the stream of all that is, all that was, all that should be."
"What does that mean?" Aegon asked the Child of the Forest but the Child did not speak further and it aggravated Aegon but with the way the Child's face was unchanging, he knew that he would get anything more than that.
He really hated them…
The ghostly figure was only a few paces away from Aegon now when he came to a stop and the old man seemed to…smile at him in a strange…almost…no…definitely glad.
Aegon swallowed a little. The thought had passed his mind the moment he'd seen those eyes and the staff. But…it was hard to accept. Hard to understand how it was possible. Mostly because he truly feared that these…things did eventually make their way to Elamaerys and infected his land with their bullshit fabricated Fate.
He feared the possibility that this guy, this old man…this descendant…was a damn Bloodraven, someone – what he represented – he hated as much as he hated these meddlers.
Dragon Dreams were almost certainly bullshit, Aegon had come to realise. Daenys was the only one absolutely confirmed in the chronicles in their family that had true vision and after her, thanks to his grandfather, he'd learnt that Aegon the Conqueror also had Dragon Dreams…and it was this that truly made him suspicious for his Dragon Dreams were so far in the future that it made no sense.
And the fact that no other than Daenys, there were no other recorded instances of Dragon Dreams that were verified…
That told him enough.
And it made him unsure about Helaena…if she really had the sight, like what Aegon had and what the Red Priests were capable of, or if she too was influenced by these bastards.
In any case, he was not happy to see a descendant of his following the steps of these creatures.
And it didn't help with his paranoia either that the ghostly figure's arrival came at this moment in time, right when he was about to go on a warpath despite the fact that Aegon had a great capacity to do them great deal of damage before he escaped…or died.
The ghostly figure outstretched its arm and pointed to a bag on his belt, a bag that contained the dragonglass container with the Weirwood seed.
"You have interfered enough." The Child of the Forest said and the way its voice shifted again was tremendous and the howls around them began to kick up again.
The ghostly figure turned towards the Child of the Forest and his lips moved but no sound came out but it seemed as if the Child of the Forest could understand the ghostly figure, and it seemed as if the ghostly figure said something that really displeased the Child of the Forest.
"No!" the word and the venom in which it was said startled Aegon and the Presence that surrounded them grew in many orders of magnitude and Ae-
His eye widened and his mouth opened in shock and he felt himself step back a little with what he was seeing…with what he was seeing.
Behind the ghostly figure, there were dozens, dozens of pairs of eyes. Eyes that were hovering and were the size of heads, the size of boulders and all of them were either Voilet, green or gold, and it was not the only thing he was seeing, now…he could see the spiritual energy they contained and it was massive. About the same size as the largest of the Weirwood Trees save for the massive one in front of them, though there was one, one set of golden eyes that were larger than them all.
And it was this one that took central stage behind the ghostly figure who now turned its head towards the Child of the Forest who had stepped back a number of times, with fear on its face, and Aegon was marvelled.
'What the fuck is happening…' he wondered and the feeling of marvel soon made way for wariness.
That the Child of the Forest was afraid, Aegon thought before he look around and towards the massive Weirwood Tree whose own white eyes were staring directly at the hovering eyes behind the ghostly figure, and the other beings in this Forest were cautious enough that their Presence had all but receded away.
He looked back towards the ghostly figure whose lips were moving and then he looked towards the Child of the Forest whose expression twisted. "Her interference was not needed."
'Whose 'her'?' Aegon wondered and what did this 'her' interfere with? Was this 'her' the reason he was in this world?
Aegon's eyes flickered between the two but it seemed like neither of them were anything further, and Aegon wasn't sure if he was meant to feel frustrated or not.
The ghostly figure then turned his head towards Aegon, his pointed finger no longer pointing but instead, it turned over into an open palm.
Aegon narrowed his eye and for a brief moment debated what he understood in everything that happened. It was clear that his…descendant was protecting him.
But why…he did not know.
Well…he had a suspicion. It was important enough for him to be back home instead of likely dying here.
This old man was not his child. Perhaps even it was not his grandchild either. But there was something Aegon would do that made it important enough to return home…mayhaps it had something do with 'her'.
The old man raised an eyebrow again though it was without the amused look and Aegon grimaced before his hand went towards the bag. He rested the Staff against his shoulder as he removed the dragonglass container from the bag. Aegon eyed the Child of the Forest who now looked like it usually did but Aegon could sense from its halo that was agitated. 'Well…at least it'll piss them off…' Aegon thought.
Whatever it was that this old man wanted to do.
Aegon twisted the container and dropped the Weirwood Tree into his palm. It was then that the old man came closer to him, close enough that he was merely a feet away from Aegon and it allowed Aegon to see the ghostly figure closer.
'He has similarities to my grandsire…' Aegon thought to himself. The old man was clearly well into his late life. Likely somewhere between sixty and eighty namedays old.
The old man stretched out his hand and it hovered over Aegon's hand and then…
The hand moved down with its fingers forming like a pinch and Aegon's eyes widened at what was happening.
The Weirwood Seed, which Aegon had always sensed something from, was aglow in spiritual energy, as if the old man was making whatever it was that was dormant active, and then, the old man pulled, pulling at whatever it was that was in the Weirwood Seed…no…pulling at the being that was in the Weirwood seed.
The whispers and the howls began again but they were more muted than before as the old man got a firm hold of the being…the soul or essence or whatever, that had been in the Weirwood Seed and Aegon's expression darkened at the sight of it.
'Yeah…I fucking hate these things.' They were an infestation and, as Aegon watched the old man turn and walk towards the Child of the Forest, whose eyes were intent on the thing that was in the old man's hand.
The old man stopped in front of the Child of the Forest who went to its head and took something out of it. 'Another Weirwood seed…' Aegon mused as he watched with morbid fascination as the thing in the old man's hand was pushed into the Weirwood seed.
The Child of the Forest then looked up and met the old man's gaze but did not seem to say anything to the old man. It did then looked towards Aegon, its expression hardening.
"Leave. Do not return. Next time, We will not hear you." The Child of the Forest said and Aegon wanted to scoff but he remained silent for a moment as he watched the Child of the Forest retreat back towards the root.
He was about say something but he kept his tongue. It seemed…pointless. Pointless to let them know that he knew his brother's death had come from their machinations. The Darry knight had the markings of the First Men in his core.
He was much a First Men as the Starks were. The days after, he learnt the heritage of that knight. He had Blackwood blood in his veins. The most recent only a few generations ago.
And it was clear that it did not matter if was active or if was merely suggestions, like the whispers or dreams, or whatever…the Old Gods caused Daemon's death.
He suspected it was because whatever they wanted to happen, likely the death of the dragons, would be achieved without Daemon present.
It almost pushed him to go full on war with these things but Aegon…Aegon was always a pragmatist…and he was patient.
Getting out of this oath had been more important.
And also…he knew the ramifications on his brother Viserys would be dire if he was to go full out in this war. He would have to commit mass slaughter and even then it would not be enough unless he really rooted out the Old Gods from this continent, a feat that Aegon really doubted he could do, even if he had the full support of the Kingdoms.
Which was practically zero.
No…getting out of the oath was more important, Aegon thought. Getting home was more important, as brutal as it was to say when one considered that he was leaving the murderers of his brother unharmed…the manipulators of past, present and future Targaryens…
And the oath…
Aegon turned to look at the Weirwood seed and he studied it intently. There was…nothing in the seed. No spiritual energy…nothing. Even when that thing had been dormant…he was able to see it.
Now there was only nothing.
Aegon looked towards the approaching old man who still had those eyes behind him and Aegon looked at them a bit more. There were a few mismatching eyes amongst the dozens of them…
'Are they all my descendants…?' Aegon wondered. That…that was many descendants, he mused to himself and an idle thought passed through his head…
'Did I begin a new eldritch nightmare?' The thought made him snort, audibly it seemed for the old man tilted his head curiously.
"Nothing, old man…just wondering what you are…" Aegon said as he met old man's gaze. The old man only smiled and there was tinge of mystery in that smile and then the man gestured towards somewhere and Aegon looked at the way he was pointing…it was the path on which Aegon had come.
Aegon only nodded. Yes…it was time to leave.
"Am I still bound to the oath?" Aegon found himself asking as he began to walk, his eye studiously taking every reaction in the old man. The old man nodded before he pinched his thumb to his index finger in a way that made Aegon's eyebrow rise.
He'd never seen anyone in this world make that gesture…the 'okay' hand gesture.
"I see…" Aegon only said and it was only because of his reluctance to speak any further under the ears and the ears of these things.
The walk down the path was a silent one, one that often featured Aegon glancing at the man who walked beside him. His face had a look of sereneness the entire time.
'Just when I thought I had all the questions that would occupy my mind…' Aegon mused to himself. Not that he was complaining…it was almost certainly likely that at the very least, this old man had saved him from a great deal of trouble.
At the worst, from death.
Finally, when they arrived at the beach, Aegon called to Mīsaragorn, asking him to come. "You will watch my back a little longer, won't you?" Aegon asked curiously.
The old man nodded smilingly and Aegon couldn't help but ask, even if the beings that pretended to be gods could hear him. "You're not like Bloodraven, are you?" Aegon hadn't planned on telling his children about Bloodraven but he almost certainly was going to do that now.
And with that decision made, surely it meant that this…descendant would know exactly what Aegon meant.
And from the look of mild displeasure, it seemed as if the old man…his descendant understood the context in which Aegon was speaking of and it filled him with a measure of amusement. Aegon nodded at the old man's reaction.
'Time travel…well fuck.' Aegon idly thought to himself before he looked towards the skies where he could see Mīsaragorn arriving.
He'd already guessed that Bloodraven affected history onto the path he'd wanted in the show. Ned Stark hearing Bran Stark was a fucking great little clue that it was possible.
It also helped explain how his family had escaped from Valyria if his suspicions about Dragon Dreams really proved to be true. Dreams instigated.
And…apparently, he…or his descendants would figure out a way to communicate – and do more like in his instance, directly interfere – in a similar as the Greenseers.
And he was unsure how he felt about that…
Mīsaragorn landed nearby and Aegon walked towards his dragon who began to growl at the accompanying ghostly figure. "Calm, Mīsaragorn…this is…family, I think." Aegon said as he eyed the old man who smiled at him before nodding.
"Will I see you again?" Aegon asked curiously before he looked towards the dozens of eyes that still remained behind him and the old man's expression turned amused at his question, no doubt understanding exactly what Aegon wanted to know.
After all, this old man was not his child. Was he a grandchild? A great grandchild?
The old man gestured towards the skies and Aegon hummed in mild displeasure but he was fine with not pushing. For now anyway…
"Thank you for your…help." Aegon said to the old man.
He had been fine with dying if he had to, fine with destroying as much as he could of the Old Gods in the God's Eye, but it was not his preference and it pissed him off that they were unwilling to bend when he was willing to bend and…forget what they did to his brother…and all the other things they likely did too.
But being able to return home, potentially, for he would not plant this thing until he was certain it was safe, without this looming over his head, without having to make another oath even if the oath of non-interference would have made him terribly guilty for swearing, was a relief.
Especially now that he had much, much more to learn…and to teach to his children.
The old man only smiled at Aegon before he gestured again towards the skies and Aegon did not wait another moment to climb atop Mīsaragorn and soon enough, they were in the air, and Aegon could not help but wonder…
'I may have more questions, many, many more questions…but I at least have found a clue…this 'her'…who are you…and are you responsible for my existence…?'
….The Ghostly Figure POV
His consciousness returned to his body and his eyes took in the light of his surroundings, a heavy breathe escaping his mouth. His eyes caught the recovering pulses of the roots of the tree, roots that stretched far beneath the earth and he grimaced lightly as he moved his body and lifted his head up from leaning against the trunk of the tree.
His eyes veered towards his hand, towards the staff, a soft hum escaping his mouth. The Staff consumed a lot of power getting him that far into the past.
It was as low as he'd ever seen it. 'I have also consumed a great deal of energy…' He mused as he sensed himself. Had he stayed for much longer, had they proved more disagreeable than what was Written, he would have had to pull on his life's energy. And on the Heart Tree. Thankfully, it went as Written.
Still…
It will be sooner than later when he was to lay at rest…
He looked away from his staff and towards the others that congregated around the Heart tree and he smiled at them. It seemed as if they waited a bit longer before returning to their time. There were dozens of them.
Some wearing clothes that he recognised though most wore clothes that were unfamiliar to him. Others wore cloths with devices on them, devices that he recognised from the Archives his grandfather created.
Some had the typical, Valyrian purple, but some had his dichromatic eyes and others even two sets of golden eyes. And then there was there that one, he thought as he stared at the golden glowing figure that was far apart from the others.
Some were old but most were younger than he. Some much younger ever, he mused as he stared at the smirking unruly looking youth amongst them that leaned against the Staff in a way that defied logic.
'I hope he isn't the one who build the connection through Time'.
He did not know who was the one who built upon the fracture his grandfather created, a fracture that his uncle Polaerys theorised to exist in all moments through Time which allowed things to happen in the future before the events of the past had occurred, which tied in to his grandfather's theory that there's a matter of backward causality at play, where a much later event can affect or cause a much earlier one…
Neither he or his uncle were able to solve the origin of the causality though he mused that the golden figure was likely the best origin of the causality.
There could also be the chance that his grandfather's suspicion may prove to be right, that it was the Heart of the World was the origin of the backward causality.
In either case, he suspected there won't be a need for any more jaunts to the past after this one. Not for him, at least…he was nearing his end and he never really had a mind for the complex concepts and the Astral Plane…
He caught a flame in the corner of his eyes and he turned his gaze there.
There, seated some twenty paces away from him, was his granddaughter creating a fire bird between her hands, a phoenix he thought with that long tail – the girl was always fascinated by the paintings of fantastical animals by his aunt Rhaena – with a little drakeling on his granddaughter's shoulder snapping at the tail of flames.
By his granddaughter's side, there was another little girl, a brown skinned girl who began to whistle, and a melodious tune that moulded the air began to form and chased away at the phoenix, causing the two little girls to fall into a fit of giggles.
The two girls had a bright pleasant presence within the physical realm, and so, so full of promise.
He smiled at the sight and he stood up from his seated position, leaning heavily against the Staff. He groaned lightly at the aches in his joins but soon enough, the thoughts on his aches faded away when his granddaughter spotted him standing.
She threw herself up to her, and the four namedays old girl ran towards him. "Grandpapa!" his granddaughter exclaimed out, her eyes bright and full of curiosity and he never failed to smile at those eyes. Eyes that resembled his so much. One emerald eye and a beautiful violet left eye.
"I see you were having fun?" He said with a smile on his face and his granddaughter, who was now accompanied by her little friend, bobbed her head.
"We were tired of waiting." His granddaughter said shyly before she glanced at the Witnesses briefly before she looked back into his eyes. "Did grandpapa speak with his grandpapa?"
"Grandpapa did." He said with a smile on his face. It was a small treasure to see his grandfather so young. And so inexperienced.
The visor hid much of his face, true, but he saw enough to see his face. And the looks of confusion and wariness. Looks he'd never seen before on a face that he always remembered only having full of wisdom and kindness.
Given the way his halo was so dark grey, it would take some time before he would find his proper way which wouldn't start until after he was able to decipher the Tome of Serpent Runes, many, many years from that day on the God's Eye.
"Oh! Did you help your grandpapa? Did it work?"
"It did. Everyone did so well." He explained to his granddaughter with a smile on his face. His grandfather's hatred of the Old Gods had long been building by then but it hadn't been until that day that the War for Her Reclamation had begun.
"Oh! That's good!" his granddaughter said before she looked at her friend and leaned in to whisper something the golden-eyed girl's ear.
The golden-eyed girl bobbed head and they both turned towards the Witnesses and waved their hands "Bye Everyone!"
The Witnesses, most of the anyway, waved at his granddaughter and her friend before they began to fade away, the last being an old woman, one who he suspected was his granddaughter, and he tapped the end of his Staff on the fused stone before he looked back at the two children in front of him.
He saw his granddaughter's friend whisper something in his granddaughter's ear and moments later he was beside with two large pleading eyes and he knew then that he would accede to whatever she wanted.
"Grandpapa…?" the stretched innocent tone of voice did not escape him and he walked closer to his granddaughter, his hand outstretched.
His granddaughter took his hand and with the other she took her friend's hand.
"Yes, granddaughter?" he asked with a knowing smile on his face.
"Can we have lemon cake? Please?"
He took on a ponderous look before he looked away from her, and towards the left side of the fused stone path that led to their Family Keep, where he saw a train arriving from the East through the hills outside of the city.
"Please…" his granddaughter asked, this time pleading in the Greek language his grandfather created.
"You have behaved. So why not?" He said as he turned back towards his granddaughter, a mischievous smile on his face.
His granddaughter beamed at that, as did her friend and soon enough, he was beset by the chatterings of the girls.
But he didn't mind.
It was a good day, after all.
He was grateful that he was chosen amongst the Witnesses for the moment.
It was a gift that he would cherish. All the way to the moment in time when it was time for him to water the tree and to close his Eyes, he mused as he looked towards the heavens and peered through the veil that lays between.
Until then…
A few more times eating lemon cakes with his granddaughter was not so bad…