Disclaimer: I do not own House of the Dragon or Elder Scrolls.
Blood and Born
"Talking"
"Thinking"
The night was quiet on the beach. Aemond had hoped it would be so as he ran through the grass. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. He had seen Vhagar fly over Driftmark's sky, guessed where she would land, and just…went after her.
He was nervous. He'd have to be mad if he wasn't. This was Vhagar, dragon of Queen Visenya. The last dragon to have lived during the Conquest. And he…hadn't been able to tame a dragon or hatch his own egg. He was mocked for this. But if he succeeded here, the mockery would stop. That was enough to push Aemond on.
He heard Vhagar before he saw her, along with a man's voice. He crested the last dune and saw the dragon down below. She was awake. And facing a hooded man, just sitting on the sand before her. "He's going to claim her!" Aemond thought in a near panic. He all but rushed down the dune towards them. It was only after he stumbled to a stop that he considered the idea that maybe he should've thought of a plan.
Vhagar eyed him for a moment before settling her head down on the sand. "Good evening, young one," the man said from his seat. He pushed his hood back, revealing his face. It was a strong face, with hair and close-shaven beard greying with age that he wore with pride. "Tell me, what are you doing out here so late at night?"
Aemond did his best to stand tall. He was a prince of House Targaryen and he would act accordingly. "I would ask the same as you, ser. Who are you and why are you here?" He tried to sound brave, maybe even bold.
The man chuckled. "I'm not a knight, kid. Never found the time to be one. As for my name, you can call me Mikael. I came to Driftmark as a guest of Lord Corlys. I decided to take a walk and found myself across from this dragon here," he said, gesturing without at thought at Vhagar.
Now Aemond remembered. When the royal family came to Driftmark for Lady Leana's funeral, there were rumors about a stranger just appearing on Driftmark's beach and asked Lord Coryls for a place to stay. It hadn't been that important, not with the funeral he and his siblings had to attend.
"Are you trying to claim Vhagar?"
The older man threw head back and laughed. It was an infectious sound, one that bounced off the rocks and dunes. In any other situation, Aemond felt the urge to laugh and indulged in it. But not this. "Then what are you doing?"
"Having a conversation."
The first question stopped short on Aemond's tongue. He didn't need to ask it because there were only two others on this beach. So the next question mattered more. "She can understand you?"
"For the most part," he answered. "She knows the words but has a hard time understanding the meaning behind them." He sighed as he leaned back. "It's about what I expected from her." Vhagar rumbled. It was the sort of sound that could make a man's knees quiver. He just looked at her. "You know I'm right."
Aemond felt as if he was missing a vital part of the conversation. "She knows the Valyrian language," he told the man. "She has known it long before I was born. How can you say that she doesn't understand it?"
The man looked at him again. He caught a hint of gold in those eyes. "What makes you assume I'm speaking to her in Valyrian?"
Because that was the only language Vhagar knew. Everyone knew that. But Vhagar seemed to know what he was saying. Who was this man? "But enough about what I'm doing," Mikael said. "What about you, kid? What are you doing out here?"
The question brought his goal back into focus. "I came to claim Vhagar as my dragon. Are you going to stop me?" For the first time, he wished that he had brought a weapon. If they fought, he wouldn't be able to do much against this man.
Mikael shook his head. "I'm not going to do anything." His thumb rose up and stretched "But her? She might have something to say about it."
A shadow fell over Aemond. Vhagar loomed overhead. He hadn't heard her come to her feet. Her head was massive, filling up his sight as she came close. Those golden eyes watched him while a low growl passed through her fangs. She hadn't readied her fire, not yet.
Aemond tried his best not to show fear. But staring at Vhagar when she was so close, he couldn't help it if he wanted to run. But he couldn't run, not now. He knew the right words to use but the longer he stared, the more he felt he shouldn't speak. Let his actions say what was needed.
Finally, Vhagar lowered her head back down to the sand. Aemond took that to mean he could reach for the harness. But just as he started forward, Mikael came to his feet. "Save it for the morning, kid," he told Aemond.
He scowled. "You—?"
"What would look better? A bold boy who can claim a large dragon? Or a thief who snuck in and took her under darkness?" the man asked.
His scowl tightened. He knew what Mikael was saying but he didn't know about what came next. "If I don't try to claim her now, someone else will in the morning."
"Then ask to claim her in the morning, before anyone else can." Mikael noticed the scowl wasn't leaving. "You don't think so."
Aemond didn't know why he started talking. Only that he did. "The king doesn't care about me, even though I'm his son. My elder brother prefers mocking me along with my nephews because I have no dragon."
"Ah, and you think by claiming her, you'll put the mockery to rest." The man's voice was knowing, and also caring, strangely enough. "How old are you, kid?"
"…Ten."
"And you think you must prove yourself now? This very moment?" He didn't get an answer. "Don't be so eager rush ahead, Aemond. There is time yet for you." He glanced over at Vhagar. "At the least, give her the night."
"Why?" Aemond couldn't think of any reason why the dragon would need the night before having another rider.
The look he got from Mikael was not kind in how much it challenged his capacity to think. "She did just lose her rider. Even dragons need time to grieve."
"…Oh." He hadn't thought of that. He had just seen Vhagar flying and went after her. Now that he thought about it, the more he realized just what he was doing. Mikael was right. If he tried to claim Vhagar now, the others in the family wouldn't be impressed.
Nothing he'd do would be enough.
Mikael placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. It was warm, gentle. Almost like a father's. "She'll be here in the morning, Aemond," he told him. "You should head back to the castle, to bed." The boy's nod was stiff and well-practiced. He turned and walked away from Vhagar, only for Mikael to walk beside him. "If you wish to talk, I can lend an ear. Seems as though you have plenty to talk about and no one to listen to."
At first, Aemond didn't think anything of those kind words. Yet when he looked up at those bronze eyes, he saw how genuine they were. This man was offering just that, an ear to listen. In spite of how he felt about his family, Aemond did not talk ill about them. The fact he only talked about Helaena with a smile didn't matter to Mikael. Their walk was slow, allowing Aemond to talk about other things he liked, such as reading history.
That intrigued Mikael, as he was a student of history. Or rather, he was a student of different versions of history. The idea struck Aemond as fascinating. For him, there had only been history, the singular version. How else would history be written?
Mikael laughed when he was told that. "There are at least two versions of history, Aemond," he said as they entered the cavern. "The one written by the winners, and the one hidden by the losers. The trick is finding the middle ground between them."
It was interesting but Aemond saw a flaw. "If the losers didn't win, their history wouldn't be known," he said. "How would you know how to find it?"
Mikael grinned. "That's what you look for. Can you think of any history where the losing side might be interesting?"
Maegor was the first idea that came to mind. Everyone in Westeros knew how he was a cruel tyrant. But what would his view of everything look like? Voices emerged from the other end of the tunnel. It was his cousins. "It's him!" Baela said, staring at Aemond.
He stared back at her, her sister, Jacaerys, and Lucreys. "It's me," he declared.
"Friends of yours, Aemond?" Mikael asked.
The idea of introducing his friend to his family, knowing full well what could happen afterwards, didn't sit well with him. But his manners demanded that he do so. "My family," he began.
Rhaena, on the other hand, didn't care who the stranger was. Not after she and her sister had seen Vhagar stare down Aemond from the castle. "Vhagar is my mother's dragon," she told Aemond.
An idea suddenly bloomed inside Aemond's mind. He hadn't claimed Vhagar properly, but they didn't know that. With one lie, he could ensure he was the only one who could claim her come the morning. "Your mother's dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now." Mikael flashed him a look, but his eyes stayed on his cousins.
"She was mine to claim!"
"Then you should've claimed her!" he snapped back. His eyes found Jace and Luke. They seemed nervous. Perhaps they understood they couldn't just bully him anymore. "Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride," he sneered at them all. "It would suit you."
"Kid!" Mikael snapped. But it was already too late.
Baela and Rhaena rushed forward, screaming as they tried to hit Aemond. He shrugged off the blows and pushed them to the ground. Jace came next but he was easy to avoid and got a kick to the stomach, sending him to ground. Luke tried grabbing him, but it just gave Aemond a good opportunity to break his nose.
Then they all tackled him and started hitting him. That's when Mikael got involved. "Alright, that's enough!" he declared, wading into the fight and pulling the kids off. The brothers and sisters didn't know who this man was, and they didn't care. He had no business being here. Not when they needed to teach Aemond a lesson.
Despite feeling pain all over his body, and tasting blood on his lips, Aemond came to his feet. "Little Luke Strong," he spat at his nephew. "Always so sure when he has others to stand up for him. What's the matter, bastard? Afraid to fight on your own?"
Mikael had no idea what those words meant but they were enough to anger Jacaerys. He pulled out his weapon. "Kid, put that knife away," the adult ordered him.
"Move," Jace ordered. He charged Aemond again, swinging the knife to cut.
Aemond stepped out of the way and kicked him in the legs. The dagger fell out of his hand, sliding across the ground. Jace tried to get back up, but Aemond was already there. The years of jokes, pranks, and humiliation came rushing out as he struck his nephew again and again. "Weak! Pathetic! Stupid! No-Good Jace Strong!" he screamed with each hit.
"SHUT UP!" It took Aemond a second to realize it wasn't Jace who screamed the words. He looked up just in time to see the knife in Luke's hand.
Then he was shoved to the side. He heard metal stabbing through flesh and a pained grunt. He came to his feet and saw Mikael standing over Jace, with Luke stabbing him with the knife. The fury he had bled out and horror took its place. "Mikael!" he screamed.
"Cease this at once!" boomed Ser Westerling as he and other members of the Kingsguard rushed into the tunnel.
Aemond turned to him, becoming the boy he was supposed to be. "Ser Harrold, help him!" he ordered, pointing at Mikael.
While Lord Corlys's guest was tended to by the maesters, the king gathered his family in the main hall and demanded what happened. Rhaenyra and Alicent stood guard over their children. Accusations flew fast from the children, trying to claim what they said was the truth. King Viserys ordered them all to be silent and while they obeyed, the hate-filled glares didn't stop.
Before anything else could be said, the doors opened once more, getting everyone's attention. Aemond slipped from his mother's grasp and rushed over. "Mikael, are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine, kid," he said. "Just a little tender."
"But…you were stabbed through the heart." He could still see the knife imbedded in his chest, blood staining his tunic.
Now though, Mikael wore a new tunic and there were no bloodstains. He didn't even look like he had been stabbed. "Close to the heart," he corrected Aemond. "A couple of inches to the right and it would've been my heart."
Even if that was true, it still should've been dangerous wound. How could he stand there? Aemond wanted to ask but he felt the eyes of everyone else on the pair of them. Mikael walked forward, towards everyone else. The only sounds that existed in those moments were those of his boots across stone and the fire crackling. He took note of everyone, where they stood, even the man who leaned against the wall away from everyone else. It seemed lines had already been drawn in the room.
"Who are you, ser?" King Viserys demanded, breaking the silence.
Mikael wasn't impressed by the king. His gaunt appearance, thinning hair, and the fact he was missing an arm whilst leaning on a cane showed a man with a foot prepared to go into the grave. "I am the man who Lord Corlys welcomed as a guest and whose grandchildren tried to kill," he said. "So I believe it is my right to be here."
"He helped Aemond!" Baela shouted from beside her grandmother.
Aemond was quick to retort. "He protected me!"
And just like that, the shouting started up again. "Enough!" the king demanded again. As his daughter tended to her sons, he looked at the stranger. "What happened in the tunnel, sir?"
"I found Aemond amongst the dunes and brought him back to the castle. His cousins and nephews met us in the caverns. One of the girls accused Aemond and he responded with an insult. After that, they all started fighting. I tried to separate them, keep them from fighting." And they all knew how that ended.
"Aemond also insulted my sons," Princess Rhaenyra said. "Vile insults at that."
"What insults?" asked her father.
As all eyes fell on her, she was ready. "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."
"What?"
Jacaerys leveled a little glare at Aemond. "He called us bastards," he declared, all but accusing his uncle. Aemond just smirked in response.
"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, your Grace," Rhaenyra told her father. "This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."
Mikael didn't like the words the princess used. He looked at her and she was unrepentant. Alicent couldn't hide her disgust or shock at the idea. "Over an insult?" she asked. "My son was attacked by yours. He was threatened with a knife!" The princess said nothing.
Viserys made his way over to Aemond. "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?" he ordered.
"The insult was training yard bluster," Alicent defended her son. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."
Her efforts were in vain. Viserys would have his answer. "Aemond," he said to his son. "I asked you a question."
In another life, perhaps Aemond would've hesitated. Maybe he would've even looked to his mother for some guidance. But the satisfaction of paying back his nephews for their abuse returned. And with it, a new target. "It was Aegon," he declared for all to hear.
His brother was surprised. "Me?" he whispered. He glanced at his brother, only to find a glare waiting.
Before he could think anything of it, the king hobbled over to him. "And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?" Viserys demanded. His son didn't speak or look at him. "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"
"We know, Father," he answered. "Everyone knows. Just look at them."
Again, all eyes fell on Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. Mikael did not see what the problem was. Her sons didn't have her hair or her eyes or even her features. They clearly got those from their father. Yet there was a hint of fear in Rhaenyra's eyes, a fear for her sons. A fear that grew with each passing second as everyone stared at them. "Just what am I missing?" Mikael wondered.
Whatever it was, the king wasn't having it. "This interminable infighting must cease! All of you!" he shouted. "We are family!" He stared at everyone, all who knew what was really happening. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grand sire, your king demands it!" For that brief moment, he appeared strong enough to not need his cane. Then the moment passed, and he hobbled away to the throne.
"Of course, your Grace," said Rhaenyra, glad her sons were protected. She looked to Alicent. "I will have your son's apologies, Queen Alicent."
"His apologies?" she repeated, fury growing in her voice. "My son was attacked by your brood and their cousins, four-to-one, and you want his apologies?"
"The king has spoken." She looked to her younger brother. "Your apologies, Aemond, now!" People started to move, showing where they stood. Others began talking, demanded the prince apologize or be given apologies.
He matched her look with his own and added a glare on top. "I will—"
"Yol Toor SHUUUUUUL!"
The fireplace surged upwards, burning taller and brighter than anyone could've managed. The heat washed over them all, along with the threat of them being burned alive. It lasted only for a moment, three at the most. Yet it would be branded into their memories, as what came next.
As the fires went back down, they all stared at the man who caused the blaze, simply by roaring fire onto it. "I have heard enough," Mikael declared, his back turned to the rest. "It is clear to me that nothing will be done. So I will do it myself."
Otto was the first overcome his hesitation. He stepped forward. "That is not your decision, ser," he said. "The king has made his decision and—"
"Be silent, joor. This no longer concern you." It was a harsh dismissal, given and done with. Not unlike what Otto would do when he was finished with a matter. He was still insulted by it all the same.
The king was insulted for his Hand, and about the interruption. Daemon saw his brother's anger and moved to support it. "He might not," he said, coming forward.
It was far as he got. "You will be silent too," Mikael ordered.
Daemon paused and frowned. If Dark Sister was at his side, it would've been drawn already. "Mind your tongue, cur. You speak to the blood of dragon. I—"
The stranger to Driftmark turned, eyes blazing gold. "Blood of the dragon you may be, but I am Dragonborn!" he declared, his voice booming in the hall. "When I speak, my word is law!" He turned onto Viserys, no longer caring about who he dismissed. "You might choose to be blind to your family, but I am not. Your family's squabbling has bled into the children, poisoning them. What would've happened if I had not been there to take the knife? Who would've been injured? Who would've died? Would you act then?"
"Of course," the king protested.
Mikael's look was cold in its judgement. If a stranger saw them and asked who the king was, he would've picked the tall man with golden eyes and not the frail man leaning on his cane. "Even now, you lie. So I will take measures myself."
"You will do no such thing!" Rhaenyra protested, letting her family's fury guide her actions.
That fury quelled when those eyes found her. Any words she might've had died as he walked over to her. She didn't know how, but those eyes picked apart everything she hid away. They knew what she had done, both now and from before. "You forget, I was the injured one," he said, his voice a deadly whisper. "I would be well within my rights to take my dues from your sons, in blood."
Lucreys whimpered as he hid behind his mother. Jacaerys tried to be brave. "You can't do anything to me. I didn't do anything!"
The eyes found him. "Oh, so that knife just happened to be that tunnel?" Mikael demanded. "Your brother might've been the one who tried to kill me, but you were the one who drew his weapon. The consequences are both yours to suffer." The boy trembled as those eyes bore into him, unable to speak or do anything. "But I will not make you suffer. Instead, you will learn."
"What do you mean?" Alicent asked. This man scared her, right down to her bones. But she wanted to know what he would do.
Mikael turned his gaze upon everyone. Lord and Lady Velaryon clutched their granddaughters tighter, just as Rhaenyra did hers and Alicent held onto Aemond's shoulder. "I will take the children," he declared.
Plans started forming in Daemon's mind. "Which ones?" he asked.
Those golden eyes found him again. "All." Realization washed over his audience. His hand snapped up, stopping the protests before they began. "They will learn, away from you all, from this bitter poison. When I deem them ready, they will be returned to you. Perhaps by then, you will find common cause and make peace. If not, they will."
His words were filled with promise, both hopeful and deadly. Otto knew that this was spiraling out of control quick. The crown had to show where this stranger stood in things. "Injured party or not, you have no right to demand the fostering of the princes or the princesses," he said. "That right belongs to the king and—"
"Āzma hen zaldrīzes." The king's words silenced his Hand. Viserys stared at Mikael as if he had found a long-lost secret and couldn't believe it. "You're him, aren't you? What remained from Old Valyria talked about a man who knew dragons as if they were his own, who could speak to them, and they would know his words. He was the one who unified Valyria into the freehold it was known for, and his word was the final authority amongst the dragonlords."
While Mikael was impressed by the king's knowledge, now wasn't the time to show it. "If you claim to be knowledgeable, then say my title in the true language of dragons," he commanded.
No one knew what he meant, save for the one man who enjoyed reading the old scrolls and tomes. "Dovahkiin," Viserys whispered. The word was strange on his tongue, holding power that he could never have.
"Do you object to my due?"
"…No."
"Then I expect them come tomorrow." He turned and left the room. Not a single person, not the Kingsguard, not the Hand, not even Daemon, stopped him. The children trembled, unsure of what would come next. The only exception was Aemond. He was excited.
The second Mikael closed the door behind him, everyone turned to the king. "Your Grace, you can't allow him to take the children," Lord Corlys protested. "Whoever you might think that man might be, he is a stranger to my island and Westeros. He has no standing here." The rest of the gathering was dismissed, the children sent to bed.
"There's nothing you can do to stop him, my lord," Viserys told him, collapsing onto the throne. He had never looked so tired than in that moment. "He will come and take the children."
"Not if we stop him," Daemon said.
Otto regarded him with a hard look. "You're not suggesting we kill him, not after he took bread and salt from Lord Corlys?" That would break guest right and destroy the crown's reputation.
He rolled his eyes. "No, of course not." Otto was always keen to think the worst of him. "We hardly need touch him. All we need do is keep the children under guard."
Rhaenyra saw what her uncle was thinking. "If he comes for them, the guards will refuse him. They would simply be doing their duties and he can find no fault, nor reason to argue." Alicent shot her a curious look, one that quickly turned to gratitude. She had been thinking along the same lines.
But the king didn't agree with the plan. "If you do that, Rhaenyra, he will turn his wraith onto us."
"He is only one man," Daemon said. "If he's so keen on breaking guest right, the whole of Driftmark will be there to correct him, at the end of a sword."
Viserys shook his head. "No, brother. You never bother read the old tomes like I did. The āzma hen zaldrīzes was honored in Old Valyria, yes. But he was also feared. Since he knew dragons so well, it was said he was able to slay them with the power of his voice alone. If he is refused…"
He didn't have to say the words. They could already guess.
The stranger would turn on their dragons.
It was a risk they were still willing to take.
Additional guards were placed before the children's rooms. Additional plans would be discussed in the morning. Everyone went to bed, nervous about what came next but confident that it would be handled.
That night, a sudden storm struck the island. Wind and water fought against one another as thunder boomed across the skies. More than once people awoke and feared that the storm would devour the island. A few pious started to wonder if the gods were furious about what had happened, and this was their warning.
Then the storm died away, leaving only calm seas behind. The worrying passed and those still awake went back to sleep. The storm would be nothing more than a bad memory come the morning.
But when morning did come, it came with shrieks of horror and terror. Despite the additional guards, and the locked doors, all of the royal children, from Aegon to little Joffrey Velaryon, were missing. It didn't take long for them to understand Mikael had taken them. After the maester realized the storm had struck after the hour of the wolf, the king realized where they had made their mistake.
The Dovahkiin said he would come for the children tomorrow. He never said in the morning.
End
Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.
I had some sympathy for Aemond in season 1, since he was pretty much crapped on by his brother and nephews. The question that lingered in my head was "What would happen if Aemond had someone in his corner?" The Elder Scrolls part came about because I wanted to see how the Targaryens would feel about a dragon in mortal form. Really, the whole story crystalized around Mikael Shouting into the fireplace, shutting everyone up.
Āzma hen zaldrīzes literally means born of the dragon in Valyrian. The way I had it figured, a Dragonborn appeared in Valyria at the start and helped the people learn how to ride dragons. He would be so incredible they would try to replicate what he did. That would bring about using their language to control the dragons. Yet despite their efforts, they wouldn't achieve what had been so simple for him.
Not too sure if I'm going to write another chapter for this story or not. What I've got for what comes next is that Mikael essentially drags the kids across Skyrim, forcing them to learn, adapt, and grow. In the process, they would find things they enjoy and actually become a family.
Then they'd return to Westeros and cause a lot of upsets. Alicent's sons would probably care less about the Iron Throne than they did before, only this time they would tell Alicent and Otto to stop (or to fuck off). Meanwhile, Rhaenyra's sons, along with Baela and Rhaena, would find their mother had remarried, to her uncle, and had two sons. Rhaenyra and Daemon would be ecstatic their children have return. They wouldn't see it like that. I'd be willing to bet more than a few, on both sides, would end up wishing to go back to Skyrim.
I'll see you all next chapter!