YES, IT IS I! THE DRAGON HAS RETURNED!
You know the drill, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.
Huge shout out to Narea, Morgan the Grandmaster and laughingnell for beta-reading and idea bouncing! Without them, this fic would be toast!
Aemond I
119 AC
"Hold still, Aegon!"
The silver-haired boy smirked at the sight of his mother Alicent fussing over his drunken excuse for a brother. From the stain next to his neck, he must have found the ship's liquor stores. The deck lurched beneath his feet as the faint creaking of wood tinged the sounds of the sea.
Seawater splashed over the rails and onto his hair, making him shiver and step away. He stared at the horizon, where a coastline had formed behind the mists. Already he could spot the silhouette of High Tide looming over the island. A shiver ran down his spine, though he'd not dare to let it show.
As the captain hollered at the deckhands to prepare the ship for arrival, Aemond Targaryen wondered why they were even here. He'd been out in the yard, being instructed in the sword by Ser Criston alongside Aegon. After repeatedly trouncing his brother and receiving praise from his Kingsguard teacher, he went through his usual lessons with Grand Maester Mellos, this time on the Houses of the Riverlands. He winced at the memory - there were too many of those Houses, and the two things he managed to remember from that lesson were that all of them hated each other with one house either marrying into or nearly killing the other within a generation and that House Tully somehow corralled them.
He'd nearly broken the table out of rage and sheer boredom but thankfully reeled himself in before the maester noticed his frustration. After the evening supper, he was running to the room when he passed by his father's study. The two Kingsguards flanking the doors gave him appropriate bows, but the door was unlocked and he couldn't help but faintly hear his father and grandfather arguing. That wasn't unusual, he'd witnessed the king and the Hightower knight arguing each other's decisions since he could remember, but he'd heard his uncle Daemon being mentioned and paused. He caught a few other words, like 'ploy', 'Velaryon', and 'dragons', but nothing noteworthy. When the talking had stopped, he quickly fled to his room. Aegon was there, sprawled and drunk on his bed. He pondered the conversation before shrugging; it was likely his uncle had angered his grandfather again with some outrageous stunt and the King forgave him. That's what Mother told him always happened, and he didn't disbelieve her. The one time they met, Aemond wanted to get as far away from Daemon as possible and it was clear the feeling was mutual.
So he could hardly imagine his surprise the next morning when his mother told him and his siblings to prepare for a trip to Driftmark, at the command of King Viserys. When he asked why, his mother had scrunched up her face before saying the king wished to visit his brother, who had returned from Pentos and was residing at the home of his lady-wife Laena Velaryon. Aegon had started throwing a fit, but a quick chastisement silenced him. He might've imagined it, but Aemond had suspicion his mother was leaving out something. A preparation of packing later and they set forth with a small convoy, leaving the Hand of the king, Lyonel Strong, to take charge. The trip was dull for the most part, Aegon's whining aside. Helaena had taken to staring and muttering at some of the spiders lurking in the ship's dusty corners, and while Mother would usually rope her in with lessons or sermons with the septa, she was too busy either fretting over Aegon or talking to Grandfather in her private cabin. That left Aemond with little to do but practice with Ser Criston on the deck or read whatever book Grandfather ordered him to.
It wasn't completely dull; he'd taken to peering over the ship and spotting the types of fish swimming past him. By the time the first day ended, he was able to spot flocks - was that how it was said? - of silverfish and flocks of bluefish even at night…which only served to prove how bored he was. Even playing with stray dice he found one day had lost its appeal. Thankfully, on the second day of the voyage, that boredom was vanquished when the isle of the Velaryons was spotted over the horizon.
He'd heard of Driftmark and the Sea Snake's castle through his lessons, but he had to admit, books and words alone did not do the sight justice. The towering cliff of High Tide gleamed off rays of sunlight, casting shadows upon the sea and the boats. The fort itself rested atop the cliff with its gleaming azure spires, as though a great hand of white had risen from the earth and displayed the castle before the gods above. He swallowed to recover his sudden loss of breath, even as he felt his mother's hands guide him away from the rails.
"Enjoying the view, are we?"
Aemond snapped out of his thoughts and blanched at the bearded face of Otto Hightower, who merely raised his brow. "It is an impressive castle, Grandfather."
After a moment of trepidation, the elder nodded. "Indeed it is." He looked towards the white cliffs with a familiar ponderous gaze. He'd seen it often when he sat down with Mother and his siblings. "The firstborn of Corlys Velaryon's ambitions, built on the wealth gained from his nine voyages. Who are the members of his House?"
"His wife is the king's cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen, who rides Meleys the Red Queen," replied Aemond, keen on passing the sudden test. "His children are Laenor Velaryon, rider of Seasmoke and husband of Rhaenyra. His sister Laena is wedded to Daemon and her dragon is Vhagar, the oldest dragon alive."
The continued stare made his stomach slowly drop, and he scrambled for the answer. Before he could, Otto sighed. It was a slight movement, barely a puff of his nostrils, yet it felt like a raging storm.
"If you had paid more attention to your mother, you would have mentioned Daemon and Laena's twin daughters." His eyes narrowed. "There is also Rhaenyra's spawn, but I will spare you the embarrassment and assume you have known this, as we all did."
"Of-of course, Grandfather."
He felt soft hands rubbing his shoulders and his mother gave him a gentle yet worried smile. "We'll be arriving soon, go stand with Ser Criston," she said. "I'll fetch Helaena after the servants finish dressing her."
He nodded and bade to leave after her, but stopped himself after the first step. Biting his lip, he turned to his grandfather with a measure of caution. "Grandfather, why did father wish to come here? Surely he could have commanded Daemon to present himself at the Red Keep."
Otto's mouth thinned. "I advised the king as such, but he wouldn't hear of it. He said that he hadn't visited the home of his goodbrother in years and wished to rectify that. More than that, the king has called for a grand reunion of the Targaryen family, and Lord Corlys offered his halls for the event."
"A grand reunion?" asked Aemond as the words began to sink in. "Then that means-"
"Rhaenyra and her brood will be present." His gaze hardened as he kept speaking. "We must stand firm against whatever intimidation they will serve. The king's love for his brother blinds him to his faults, and in that blindness, they will seek to move against us." He spared a glance to Aegon, who stood by the far railings and was fiddling with the hems of his shirts, no doubt seeking to get his grubby hands on a bottle or wineskin. "We must show them our position holds strong. That the true heir is of our blood."
Aemond had heard this speech many times before in some form, and he would undoubtedly hear it again and again until Aegon took the throne. Whether spoken by his mother or grandfather, they told him it was the only option to survive, to re-establish the true order of things before the Seven - ere their heads would be mounted on spikes.
"I'll do as Mother asked."
The Hightower knight stiffly hummed and returned his gaze to the horizon. The docks were within sight, great structures and stilted paths of wood that lined the coast as ships flying sails and flags emblazoned with the white seahorse gathered 'round, silently watching them from their moored positions. To his left, the royal ship carrying the king sailed. His father required extra care after a new swell of infections and had chosen - with his mother's recommendation - to sail separately. He'd spotted rowboats flanking the royal convoy and watched as they directed them closer.
Mother had returned from the decks with his sister in tow. Helaena wore a dark-green dress with gold and black linings, and the white collar seemed to nest her thin face, and her white hair was nestled in a bun that hung behind her back.
He felt his mother's pointed stare and cleared his throat. "Sister, you look lovely. How did you fare on the voyage?"
Helaena's blue eyes blinked as she softly replied. "It was quiet. Mother showed me how to weave the new Myrish silks. You and Aegon look lovely too."
At her nod, he looked down at his vestments. Though differing in age, he and Aegon had been made to dress with similar black doublets and tabards, with Aegon's lined with more gold than his. He knew why, but he still grumbled.
"They circle 'round and come to roost," Helaena whispered, her voice lost in the fog. Aemond tried not to roll his eyes, lest his mother cuff him on the head; yet again, Helaena muttered nonsense that only she seemed to understand.
The ship finally docked, and the sailors dropped the gangplank on the wide walkway. The guards quickly descended, and after a few moments, Aemond and his family followed, with Ser Criston at the helm. From the opposite ship, accompanied by the twin Kingsguard and a maester came the king, hunched and bearing the Conqueror's crown upon his brow. Despite his limping walk and the way his chubby frame leaned on his polished cane, his smile seemed to banish the misty gloom upon the island.
"Alicent, Otto! A fair voyage, was it not?" he called.
"The winds were kind to us, Your Grace, as surely they were to you," replied his grandfather, bowing as he did. "All went well for you, I hope?"
"The sea air seems to do me good, per Maester Garlan's words. The aches have dulled and I managed to indulge in some of my tomes." He moved to address his mother. "And you, my lady?"
"I too found the sea air pleasant, Your Grace," she said demurely and lightly curtsied. "The children found the voyage enjoyable."
Viserys flashed them all a smile while Aegon - at Mother's discreet urging - commented on his studies. To his lack of surprise, the king briskly waved and headed down the walkway. While his mother winced, a thought wriggled in Aemond's mind. The gait in his father's limp steps matched the few times he had seen him with his model of Old Valyria. He knew Viserys missed Daemon dearly, much to his family's consternation, but it was never at this level. What had him so excited?
Awaiting them was a contingent of Velaryon soldiers, bearing polished steel helmets and garbed in azure tabards bearing their sigil. More seahorse banners were held high at the edges of the formation, fluttering against the sea breeze. At their head was a shoulder-length silver-haired man with tanned skin, and a face weathered by the sea and clad in rich silk, glimmering underneath his doublet. When they had all gathered, a page cried out: "Presenting, King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Otto Hightower and the royal family!"
The clang of metal rang throughout the docks as soldiers slammed their hands to their chests in unison. "Your Graces," the Velaryon man said with a deep timbre, taking a knee. "You honor House Velaryon with your presence. Welcome to Driftmark."
"Rise, goodman. Thank you for the grand reception," replied his father. The man did so and Father looked around, taking in the knightly display. The maester whispered something into his ear and his eyes widened a fraction. "You are Lord Corlys's nephew, Ser Rhogar, correct? The last time we met was at Rhaenyra's appointment as Princess of Dragonstone."
From the corner of his eye, Aemond saw his mother grasp tightly at her wrists, and he swore he saw Ser Criston clench his sword. Unaware or uncaring of the remark, Ser Rhogar smiled amicably. "Indeed it was Your Grace. I confess to not having the pleasure of your company since then, but it is an honor to have made such an impression on you, especially during that momentous day. My uncle apologizes for not greeting you in person, but he thought a reception worthy of you should be held at High Tide instead of the docks. He awaits there with his wife and children, along with Prince Daemon." He gestured behind him where two wheelhouses stood and hitched to twin horses each, topped and lined with silver emblems and decorations. "More appropriate transportation has been prepared for you, and I have horses waiting for the Kingsguard."
King Viserys chuckled. "Then let us not tarry, good Ser!" He turned to his friend. "Otto, would you accompany me for this stretch?"
"Of course, your grace." The Hightower knight walked behind his father, showing none of his advanced age as they boarded their wheelhouse. When the Velaryon knight approached them, he bent low and kissed his mother's offered hand. "Your Grace, it would seem the bards wove too thin a thread when describing your beauty. It has only grown since I saw you with the princess all those years."
Mother's face was serene, the perfect image of a queen or even a statue of the Mother, as Aemond had seen during feasts with lordly guests. "You flatter me, Ser Rhogar. It warms my heart to see the hospitality of the Velaryons on display for the king."
"Only the best for the Targaryens," he replied, showing pearly white teeth. He then turned his attention to Aemond and his siblings and bowed again, though not as low. Aemond swore he saw the corner of his lips twitch when he landed on Aegon, but the white stubble obscured any confirmation. "I welcome you to Driftmark, my princes and princess. High Tide doesn't match the splendor of the Red Keep, but it is filled with many wonders and treasures, gathered by Lord Corlys during his voyages. I wish they will enrapture you as they did to His Grace."
It took a moment for Aegon to respond, but at the discreet prodding of his mother, he blinked and nodded, adopting a lofty tone. "My father has told me a great many stories of Lord Corlys's voyages, and I would love to see their spoils." On this rare occasion, Aemond found himself agreeing with his brother, even if the sentiment was false. While he was not as…passionate about long-lost civilizations and treasures as his father was, the younger Targaryen child acquired an interest in them while attending the king, the few times he was allowed into his private chambers. The Grand Maester's lessons recounting Valyria and the old empire were the only ones he'd looked forward to before they were replaced with the long and illustrious histories of the Reach houses. Whatever artifacts and wonders Lord Corlys displayed in his hall, Aemond would take the time to study them. He knew Aegon would just head for the wine cellar and Helaena would…do whatever it was she did.
So engrossed in his thoughts, Aemond was he'd almost missed the light scratching of his mother's fingernails, or the tightening of Ser Criston's lips. "The splendor of the Red Keep is hard to eclipse, my good Ser, but we shall keep an open mind and heart."
"Then I pray to the Seven my uncle will not disappoint you, Your Grace." He gestured to the wheelhouse and his mother strode forth, wordlessly ushering her children inside. Not even the inside of the wheelhouse was spared from the touch of luxury, as Aemond noticed when he stepped inside. Velvet cushions were built into the seats and backs, and the roof was engraved with long-tressed mermaids frolicking amidst foamed waves and great whales. Even Helaena noticed them, staring at them with more clarity than her usual daze. Aemond looked out the window to the sight of Ser Criston mounting a horse and adjusting his armor. There was a crack of reins and a distant 'ho!', and they were off.
While his mother idly scolded Aegon for some offhand gesture, Aemond peered outside as the wheelhouse rolled down the smooth-paved roads and slowly climbed the great white cliffs. Spicetown lay in the distance, the fabled trade city where merchants from Westeros, Essos, and beyond gathered under the patronage of the Sea Snake, with bright red roofs that seemed to glow in the sun. Aemond tried to ignore the drying of his throat as he took the sight in. It did not have the same grandness or sense of majesty as King's Landing, but it had its own glow that refused to be ignored.
The tugging of his shoulder shattered his stupor and he turned to face his mother. She looked outside the window, and unlike his own awe, hers appeared for nary an instant before it faded behind a tranquil face and worried eyes. "Do not let yourself be drawn in too deep by their allure, Aemond. If they remain as they are, on Rhaenyra's side, all their wealth and power will be used against Aegon."
Aemond nodded and felt his lips turn downward. He knew his mother would never stop reminding him, and the thought of even what little wealth he had seen on display being used against his family, made him inwardly shiver. He'd heard Mother and Grandfather exalt the strength of Oldtown, the Hightowers and the Reach, but he'd never visited. Driftmark, High Tide and the Velaryons - it was far more tangible.
"There is still hope. What Rhaenyra has done insults the Velaryons. We can sway them to our side, and your grandfather and I will do all we can. You must stand by Aegon and protect him; show the kingdoms why he is the true heir."
He felt his lips sour even as he voicelessly complied with his mother's words. What enjoyment he felt had crumbled like ash - for a multitude of reasons.
Soon enough, the sensation of moving upwards had ceased, and loud cries came from ahead, announcing their presence. The wheelhouse had entered the great gates of High Tide as scores of soldiers and knights flanked the road. Minor lords and nobles stood behind them, dressed in their house colors and expensive cloth and jewels, staring at the wheelhouses with anticipation. When Ser Criston dismounted his horse and opened the door, Aemond swallowed the stone in his throat. His mother stepped outside and he quickly followed her with Aegon in front and Helaena behind, after he offered her a hand. He looked up, toward the grand stairs leading into the white keep, and saw their hosts…and others.
There they were, in colors of red and black, the king's named heir and her ilk. Rhaenyra Targaryen stood side by side with her husband, staring at his mother and brother with a face carved of stone. To her left stood her husband Laenor, bearing a pointed chin and a more relaxed posture than his wife's. To her right stood a massive armored knight, his bearded face framed by brown locks. By her feet were three boys, younger than Aegon and lacking the silver hair of their parents, their eyes darting between everyone present. He saw his mother's hand stiffen and he heard the slightest sharp breath, but to her credit, she remained as she was.
There was no other ship bearing the dragon sigil at the docks. Did they arrive at a different port? How long were they there?
The pause, which seemed to stretch on and on, was broken by the king, right after the maester and the Kingsguard helped him out of his carriage.
"Lord Corlys!" he exclaimed. The head of House Velaryon, resplendent in silver-and-blue robes, his silver hair tied in elaborate braids and a warm smile on his face, stepped down the stairs. "A most grand day to you!"
"And I bid you welcome to my halls, Your Grace," he replied, his voice smooth as the silks he wore. He took a knee and with him, the yard followed. A strange tingling crawled up Aemond's spine, which he did his best to ignore. No matter the slight elation he felt swelling within. "Driftmark and High Tide are yours."
Viserys beamed and motioned him to rise. "It has been many a year since I last visited Driftmark. I look forward to enjoying the hospitality of House Velaryon once again." When the Velaryon rose, with the rest of the yard following shortly after, he grasped the older lord's forearm while Corlys gently held the king's cane hand, both men smiling all the while.
The group slowly approached the two and Mother slipped to her father's side. The Sea Snake noticed and quickly turned to her, kissing her outstretched hand as his nephew did. "Your Grace, I welcome you to our home. I hope the voyage was not too rough?"
"The Seven blessed us with fair winds, my lord. Your keep is every bit as wondrous as the bards sing," she replied.
"It warms this old heart to hear those words, especially from your mouth, my queen. Did you enjoy the wheelhouses? They were crafted by Bravosi carpenters from Spicetown, a personal commission from me. There are none like them in the kingdoms."
"They are a delight, my lord. My daughter admired all the decorations you put in, though the silver sometimes glinted too strongly." The pleased look on the Sea Snake's face only intensified, even as he flashed a charming smile to Helaena.
"Do you collect all the skilled artisans of the world, Corlys?" his father asked cheerfully. "They flock to you like bees to honey!"
"When opportunity comes to one's door, Your Grace, it is one's duty to invite it in." The Sea Snake turned to his grandfather. "Wouldn't you say, Ser Otto?"
"Wise words, my lord," his grandfather sagely replied. "But one must be cautious when allowing guests, else they might deceive you with false words."
"Fonts of wisdom both of you! Oh, to have such friends, the gods have blessed me with such fortune!" The Sea Snake laughed at his liege's jest, while Aemond looked on, unsure what to think. Corlys then turned to them and bowed. "Welcome to you as well, my princes and princess."
The three Targaryen siblings inclined their heads, and Corlys returned to the king with an offered arm. Viserys took it and the family slowly climbed up the stairs. When they reached the top, the king turned to his firstborn daughter, and his smile lifted his cheeks.
"Rhaenyra, my dear! Has it been four years? It feels like only days!" he cried and embraced her.
"Rystas, kepa," she said, kissing his cheek. Her beautiful visage, worthy of being called 'the Realm's Delight', seemed to glow as she beamed at the king, "Dragonstone needed me, Father, but my heart longed to be with you,"
"I've also heard you recently gave birth to another son. Where is he?"
"We've named him Joffery, after Laenor's former sworn shield. He's currently resting in the castle, but I'll bring him to supper."
"Joffrey…" the king trailed off before his face turned solemn. "A good name. You must be proud, Ser Laenor." The man in question smiled and began chatting with the king.
Meanwhile, his mother strode up to Rhaenyra and their lips flattened. Aemond glanced between them and felt his face sour. Finally, Rhaenyra gave her the slightest of curtsies. "Your Grace."
"Princess, I share my husband's delight hearing of your new child. The legacies of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon grow more secure by the day." Rhaenyra's placid expression was taut, not betraying the slightest hint of emotion. "I do wish to see you return to court. There have been whispers regarding your absence, and many grow concerned for the king's eldest daughter."
"Baseless rumors," Rhaenyra swiftly replied, waving her hand. "As my father's heir, I must govern the lands given to me."
After a moment, Mother nodded. "Of course, one's duty is paramount and must never be forgotten."
The armored knight, Ser Harwin Strong, the 'Breakbones', fingered his sword. From behind his mother, Aemond saw Ser Criston tighten the hold on his morningstar's hilt. His gaze flickered between them, and inevitably to the two boys at Rhaenyra's feet. He'd seen them before, and now it was even more obvious. Was his father truly so blind?
The stomp of a cane drew everyone's attention to Viserys, who had finished greeting Rhaenys and her daughter. The Rogue Prince was nowhere to be seen. "I would like to see those new maps of yours, Lord Corlys."
"Of course, Your Grace." The Velaryon lord turned to them, the picture of a generous host. "My servants will direct you to your quarters, I hope you will find them every bit as accommodating as those of the Red Keep."
"We will hold you to your word, my lord," said Otto.
The servants came and showed them the way to their rooms, through walls lined with tapestries and artifacts. Aemond barely had time to properly glimpse them before arriving at their rooms. Like always, he and Aegon shared a room, but this time, Helaena bunked with their mother. As the servants began bringing in their bags and unpacking their clothes, the brothers sat down on their beds - soft, with thin blue sheets curtained around each one - and took in the decorations and ornaments of the room.
"Impressive, don't you think so brother?" asked Aegon. "The wine here must be something else. I'm getting tired of Arbor Gold."
This time, Aemond sneered. "Can you not have wine on your mind for once? The last thing any of us need is you acting like a dimwitted beggar again."
Aegon scoffed. "And what would you have me do, listen to the constant back-and-forth mother and grandfather have? I'll take being drunk any day of the week, and so would you."
Even though Aemond found himself agreeing, he wouldn't let it show. "You heard Mother, we can't let them down, which means you need to be presentable."
"I heard, I heard," he replied and waved him off. Anyone else would've deemed the gesture uncaring, but Aemond knew his brother well. There was much apathy, true, but he didn't miss the biting of the lip. "I will give them credit; I've never seen this much white before."
"I think the maester said it's limestone, I don't remember."
Aegon hummed and looked out the arched window, the sea in its full glory under the afternoon sun. "We're going to eat a lot of fish, I imagine. As if I haven't seen enough on the ship. Maybe Mother will let us go to Spicetown."
And let you visit the local whores? "I doubt it, not without her and the entire guard."
Aegon grumbled and slumped in his bed, but didn't speak further. The servants had finished unpacking and left them alone. Aemond resumed looking at the room, silently admitting that even for a simple room, the Sea Snake made it worthy of any royal bedroom in the Red Keep. He would've taken the time to explore the halls of High Tide - if only to alleviate his growing boredom - but he knew his mother would come to see them soon, and he was in no mood for Ser Criston to come looking for him if only to spare himself the headache. So he proceeded to copy his brother and sprawled himself on the bed, resuming his idle observations.
Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long. The oaken doors swung open and his mother hurried inside with a small cohort of maids. "Supper is about to begin soon, so you must get dressed."
With muted grunts of protest, the two got up and surrendered themselves to the ministrations of the servants. A water basin was brought in for quick washing and he and Aegon cycled through several different outfits until his mother deemed them suitable. They were more comfortable versions of the clothes they wore on the voyage, finely embroidered and laden with golden threads.
When they were done, she smiled at them fondly. "You look dashing, both of you."
The mother and two brothers left the room, and waiting outside were Helaena in a new dress, his grandfather in a dark coat over a green vest with gold buttons, and the ever-present Ser Criston. After a quick round of greetings, they moved as one down the hall. As they made a turn to an entrance, Viserys emerged with the twin Kingsguards by his sides, with regal black robes and a heavy necklace of precious stones. His silver hair had been freshly washed, and he seemed far more refreshed than he was on the boat.
"Ah, wife, children, Otto!" he exclaimed, stepping up to his mother and kissing her cheek. "You look lovely, all of you."
"You are the picture of kingliness yourself, husband," she simpered, looking like a lovestruck maiden in an instant. His father patted them on the shoulder, kissed Helaena's cheek, and offered small compliments.
"I can smell the food all the way from here! Let's not tarry!" He turned around and walked forward, leaning on his cane with every step. Mother moved to his side and the rest fell behind them, the kingsguard encircling them all.
To Aemond's relief, they finally arrived in the great hall, and Aemond's eyebrow raised. A long table was brought in and placed along the length of the hall, with plates, candles, and cutlery arranged upon each side. Twin fireplaces were lit with roaring flames on opposite sides, bathing the cavernous room in a red glow that blended the blue colors on the walls and ceilings into a hazy purple. The high table was placed below a dais, upon which was the great symbol of House Velaryon, the Driftwood Throne. Most curiously, there weren't as many seats as Aemond had imagined, especially with all the nobles he'd seen earlier. Waiting for them were Corlys and Rhaenys Velaryon, standing before the high table with joy written all over their faces, and Ser Rhogar stood to their side.
But that joy was not shared, for his family stilled when Rhaenyra and her brood were noticed, dressed in their own red-and-black garbs. While Aemond saw his grandfather freeze for a moment, his father - like always - remained oblivious as he was escorted by Rhaenys and his mother by Corlys to the high table. He and his siblings were ushered by Ser Criston to the empty tables, sitting across the other Targaryens. The brown-haired children cast furtive stares at them while Rhaenyra seemed dismissive, except for when she smiled as their father touched her youngest's cheek, held by a nursemaid. The Strong sworn shield stood at the back, his eyes watching their every step.
As his eyes swept over the gathered people, Aemond noticed a particular absence, namely the main reason why his father dragged them all here in the first place.
Steps echoed throughout the hall and the nobles and royals alike beheld the smirking countenance of Daemon Targaryen, dressed in an inky black tunic and a leather doublet embroidered with soaring red dragons. At his side was his wife Laena, her frizzy silver hair flowing behind her sea-blue dress. The pearls lining her hair and jewelry made it seem as though she was a mermaid, rising from the depths of the sea. For all his uncle's cuntishness, Aemond thought, he had to admit he had an eye for women. His twin daughters, Baela and Laena trailed behind them, wearing color-swapped dresses.
But it was the two youths behind them that gave Aemond pause. For they were the strangest people he had ever laid eyes upon.
"Your Grace, it's been too long!" said Daemon. "You look healthier since we last met. The royal kitchen's fares seem to have grown heartier these years, for you to appear so well!"
The king smiled and rose from his seat, arms open for an embrace. "Daemon, you are a balm for sore eyes. I seem to have missed much during your absence in Pentos. My congratulations on your twin daughters, and to you, Lady Laena."
Laena smiled and curtsied. "Your blessings honor us, Your Grace." She motioned for said daughters to come forward. Were it not for the differing lengths of their hair, Aemond would've thought them perfect mirrors. "Baela and Rhaena, your nieces."
The twins followed their mother's lead and curtsied, to his father's delight. "Such manners! They will grow to be the pearls of House Targaryen!" Daemon's chest puffed up, prissy peacock that he was.
"As the king's brother, why were you not present during his reception?" his grandfather piped up icily. "Surely you would not dishonor His Grace when he has come all this way in response to your return."
"I am here, aren't I?" Daemon replied, raising an eyebrow. "And I had urgent matters to attend to with my wife, Ser Otto. It is surprising to see you here, considering I see no pin on your vest or linked hands around your neck."
If looks could kill, Daemon would've been banished to the seven hells from the sheer rage on his grandfather's face. That only caused Daemon's grin to widen further, his teeth resembling fangs.
"Peace, both of you. Your first meeting in years and you're already at each other's throats," Viserys called out in a conciliatory tone. "Alicent pleaded for her father to return as my guest and as a tutor for my sons, and time has humbled him."
Daemon scoffed and rolled his purple eyes. "If there is truth in that statement, I will join the sept and declare myself a begging brother."
The king and Corlys chuckled, and Aemond had to admit the thought of Daemon going anywhere near a septon's robe was impossible. Once the laughter died down, the king raised himself to peer over Daemon's shoulders. "And who are these behind you?"
Stepping to the side, Daemon gestured at the guests. At once, he saw his brother and grandfather stiffen and heard his mother's breath hitch as she grasped her seven-pointed star pendant. Across the table, Laenor and Rhaenyra reacted similarly, with their eldest, Jacaerys, leaning against his mother.
"These are my goodfather's guests, rescued straight from Old Valyria itself. In some way, you have them to thank for my early return. May I introduce you to the lady Ecclesia of Dogmatika and her companion Albaz."
The king's eyes grew to the size of his dinner plate, and Aemond felt like he was doing the same. It was easy to understand why; they appeared to be pulled straight from an old bard's tale. The boy's red eye and pointed ears made him seem like some forgotten demon from the far reaches of the world, while the girl's horns, golden hair, and strange forehead tattoo cast her as a Lannister lady, branded after dabbling in Valyrian sorcery. Both of them looked older than Aegon, though not by much.
"Old Valyria? Truly?" His father asked after being struck speechless - an event he had never seen in person before. He sharply turned to the Sea Snake. "Lord Corlys, is this true? I've heard whispers of strange guests in your keep and I know my brother has a penchant for dramatics, but is he jesting about this matter?"
"It is no jest, Your Grace," he replied. "Rhaenys and I found them on the western shores of the former Valyrian Peninsula during one of our shared flights, and I offered them a place in my home. When we returned to Pentos, Daemon voiced his desire to return to Westeros as well."
"You set foot in there? King Jaeharys issued an edict banning anyone from sailing to the island in fear of those creatures."
"We didn't stay for long, only long enough to talk to them and convince them to come with us. Besides, we flew there, Your Grace, and as such have broken no law."
As the king's shock slowly morphed into joy, Aemond saw Lady Laena whisper something to the youths. They nodded when she finished, and approached his father, passing by the almost-frozen looks of Rhaenyra and her family, with Lady Laena in tow. Viserys at once turned straight to them, and after a moment of hesitation, they took a bow.
"It is…an honor…to meet you…King Viserys," the boy said, his accent queer and his speech halting. The girl said nothing, merely watching the king.
"Be welcome to the Seven Kingdoms, Albaz, and you as well, Lady Ecclesia," The king said.
Lady Laena then spoke up. "Forgive their silence, Your Grace, but they know little of the common tongue. So far I have interpreted their words from Volantene, and we have a scholar from Essos working to educate them."
Aemond could see the curiosity shining through his father's eyes. "Volantene? Then they are refugees from Volantis? It would make sense considering how close they are to the old empire, but how did they traverse the Smoking Sea?"
"They are not from Volantis, Your Grace. Their homeland uses a dialect of High Valyrian which is very similar to Volantene, and so far my daughter has proven quite adept in communicating with them," replied Corlys, beaming at his daughter who smiled back demurely. "An unexpected talent I'm proud she has nurtured during her time away."
"Why did I not meet them when we arrived?" Rhaenyra asked with narrow eyes. "Did you not think to inform the heir to the Iron Throne about such a matter?"
"Perish the thought, Princess," Corlys said quickly, shaking his head. "I merely wished that the king and everyone present take an equal measure of them. I apologize if I overstepped, but alas I cannot tear out pages of my memory as if from a book, else I would have done so."
Daemon, his wife, and some of the other children chortled at the comical remark, and Aemond swore a grunt escaped Aegon's lips. His mother and grandfather were frozen in shock, although he didn't miss the narrowing of Otto Hightower's eyes. Viserys looked ready to ask them more but Corlys clapped loudly, drawing everyone's attention.
"Shall we start the supper, Your Grace?"
"Ah, yes of course. It would be a shame to let those alluring scents fade." He sat down on his cushioned chair while Lady Laena ushered the two youths - Albaz and Ecclesia, Aemond reminded himself - to the far end of the table on Rhaenyra's side and sat down beside them. Daemon had sat himself next to Corlys and his brother while his daughters nestled between the brown-haired children. At once a stream of servants carrying trays and pitchers entered the hall, lining the table with a small sea of foodstuffs and drinks. After each man and woman was offered wine - juice for him and the rest of the children - Viserys raised a toast.
"To my brother Daemon, who has come home!"
"To Daemon!" all replied, though noticeably muted. They drank.
"To Lord Corlys, the gracious host. May your house's success flourish and rise like the cliffs of your keep." The replies were more boisterous. They drank again.
The next one, the Sea Snake led. "To the king, for gracing us with his presence! May his rule be long and prosperous!" With the greatest cry, they drank, draining the last of their cups. Glancing at his brother, Aemond smirked at Aegon's soured face, undoubtedly caused by his lack of wine.
The supper began in earnest, and indeed the Sea Snake had spared no expense. Helaena indulged herself in piles of greens topped with almonds and berries. Pease porridge, spiced carrots and stuffed peppers were present as well. Great pikes drizzled with lemon and hazelnuts were served as the main course, along with capons stuffed with herbs and mushrooms. A stewed rabbit sprinkled with rosemary, a specialty of the Reach, drew praise from his mother, though she partook in the freshly baked white bread and sharp wedges of cheese. A particular dish drew great attention; a great crab, pried open at the back and spiced with saffron and garlic was arranged before rows of slices of salmon and assorted fish - straight from the shores near High Tide, per Lord Corlys's words - in a manner resembling a king during court. At some point, a group of minstrels were summoned and played wordless tunes, filling the air with a cheery tone.
On any other island, such fare would be improbable for any lord to present, even to a king. But not the Velaryons. The trade of Spicetown and their wealth meant drawing these foods from far and wide was akin to plucking a low-hanging apple from its branch.
When taking all that into account, Aemond understood on some level why his mother wanted Aegon to make a great impression, and why they were one of his greatest potential adversaries.
As he discreetly sipped some of the wine meant for the adults, he couldn't help but stare at the Velaryons' foreign guests and fought the urge to spit out his drink. The girl Ecclesia devoured meat and vegetables with fervor, shoveling and chewing anything she could pile on her plate. The boy Albaz was much the same, tearing through big pieces of the pike, even piling foodstuffs between two chunks of bread and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. And from the disturbed stare both Rhaenyra and his mother were throwing at them, he wasn't the only one to have noticed.
"Your guests are quite the enthusiastic eaters," said Viserys with an upturn of his lips. "I don't think I've ever seen this much food put away by so few people."
"A quirk we are growing accustomed to, Your Grace," Lady Laena responded with a giggle. "I prefer to think it is a testament to the skill of our cooks."
"From the pike alone, I see why, my lady." He then raised his voice to address them. "Tell me, Albaz, how did you and your lady companion find yourself in Old Valyria?"
The boy paused his eating and turned to the king, a piece of meat still hanging from between his lips. For a moment Aemond thought he glimpsed a fang from underneath. The Velaryon lady muttered something to him and then he spoke in a lilting tongue. Aemond's knowledge of High Valyrian failed him; none of the words were remotely intelligible.
"He says they were swept up in a storm, which forced them to land in the ashen jungles of the land."
"And how long were you there?"
"He says…about a moon's turn, by our reckoning."
Daemon raised an eyebrow from behind his goblet and Aemond startled.
"A moon's turn?" his father asked, voicing their thoughts. "Why…Princess Aerea vanished atop Balerion the Black Dread for a year and returned from there a smoking corpse, a victim of the horrors lurking in those ruins. The very air is laden with ash and brimstone. How did you survive?"
Albaz looked to his lady friend and then answered with Lady Laena interpreting. "The air was dirty but it wasn't a problem when they went into the jungle, and the only monsters they saw were the…fire serpents, and that they were weak."
Even the Kingsguard paused. "The firewyrms of Valyria…weak?" the king muttered, an incredulous chuckle escaping him. "I admit, this is the first time I've heard anyone refer to a horror capable of driving men insane and forever scarring them 'weak'. Septon Bath wrote that one alone could destroy a village. And you fought them off by yourself?"
"Both of them, Your Grace. The lady Ecclesia is a skilled warrior in her own right."
Aemond's mother now stared at the golden-haired girl as if she were a newfound stain on the wall. He too was skeptical; this girl could fell a firewyrm?
It was then that Aemond's grandfather spoke, his voice heavy with scepticism. "And you would have His Grace believe such outlandish fables and mummery? That some youths survived what countless seasoned sailors and explorers tried at the cost of their lives and souls?"
"And what would you suggest to be true, Ser Otto?" Rhaenyra countered, causing his grandfather to sneer. "I admit, the tale they spin would be outlandish to a tried storyteller like you, but men know the world is oft more outlandish than any tale, especially ones who have seen beyond Westeros, such as my goodfather and goodsister."
"Is it not obvious? They are escaped slaves from Volantis, ready to spout whatever honeyed words that would shelter them in good graces. The Volantene mark their slaves with tattoos much like the one on the girl's forehead, and the boy is some odd curiosity from the east, brought to amuse some noble. They did not land in Valyria, but some offhand island close to it, on the edges of the Smoking Sea where ships still sail. I do not believe our esteemed host would lie so blatantly to his liege, but by the sad eyes of two unfortunates wove a falsehood in front of his eyes."
A sharp breath was collectively drawn from Rhaenyra's side, and Lord Corlys's silver mustache quivered…but he did not seem as enraged as Aemond thought he would be. Especially when being insulted in his own home.
Daemon slowly clapped, the smugness on his face returning threefold. "My dear niece is quite correct. Only a true mummer would conjure up such an intricate tale, my good Ser. Perhaps we should check if the position of court bard is vacant, you would be the first pick."
Alicent then spoke up, her tone matching Rhaenyra's. "My father is merely expressing expressing his concern for my husband, my prince. He wishes to protect the king from treason and falsehoods per his duty as any devoted subject to the crown should, and my father remains one until his dying days."
The flash she sent Rhaenyra's eldest was not missed.
"Peace, peace, all of you," said Viserys. "I have never taken Lord Corlys for a liar, and he knows of my love for our ancestral home. Let us forget this quarrel and be merry as a family."
While the eating resumed, the tension remained as thick as the fog during their arrival. But when the capons and rabbits dwindled in quantity, Aegon made his presence known.
"Is Lady Ecclesia the same warrior I've heard of in that new song in King's Landing's streets?" asked Aegon for the first time that night, a smirk on his lips. Daemon froze, clutching his goblet mid-drink. "I forget how it went…bards! Do you know the words?"
The minstrel group paused their strumming, one of their number speaking up, "We do, my prince. It was oft-requested these past few days in Spicetown's taverns."
"Then perhaps my father the king would be interested to hear of this." Aegon turned to their father expectantly. Daemon meanwhile jerked up and sneered at Aegon, his knuckles whitening.
"Brother, we are having supper and I would rather -"
"I confess, I too would like to hear this new ballad," chimed Otto, curiosity evident even in his flinty tone. Aemond saw Daemon's nostrils flare with such intensity, he thought fire would erupt.
"Well, if my friend and son wish to hear, by all means then!" The king said, oblivious to any tension.
The troupe bowed as one and began to play. "To the castle of High Tide, sailed two strangers one fine day. By the Sea Snake's grace and kindness, He invited them to stay…"
As the song progressed, Aemond thought they were stretching their words as all bards did. But from the way Daemon seemed to grumble and sink further into his cups, a growing revelation began to dawn on him.
Finally, the song ended. Aegon and the king gave rapturous claps, with the Velaryons joining in. Rhaenyra and her brood, as well as his mother and grandfather also clapped, but it was lesser, whether from disbelief or decorum, he didn't know. Helaena just stared at her plate and Daemon looked a moment away from throwing his goblet at the wall.
It was true!?
"Daemon, did this really happen?" The king asked, chuckling.
The Rogue Prince shot a scathing stare at the troupe who bowed in fear, then at Ecclesia, who responded with an even stare of her own. Then, after glancing at his lady wife, he sulked and sighed. The sight made Aegon's smile stretch across his face. "I might have been…overeager when it came to our new guests. For her size, Lady Ecclesia is a formidable warrior."
"But a hammer, Daemon? A hammer?"
The prince growled but didn't say a word. Viserys erupted with a merry giggle.
"Oh, I never thought you would be humbled so, my brother! Truly, adventures follow you even when you return home! I fear the thieves of King's Landing may grow bold when they hear of this defeat by the former commander of the Goldcloaks!"
Daemon's cheeks flushed and his lips trembled, and Aemond saw Laena gently place her arm upon his wrist. The paleness slowly abated to his cheeks, but not before he glared at everyone in the hall, even the Kingsguard standing nearby. Ser Criston did not visibly flinch, though the clank of his armor gave his reaction away.
After a dessert of rosewater sweetbreads and lemon cakes was cleaned out, the king rose. Aemond was thankful, for he didn't think he could eat another bite. Once again, he had to give credit to the Velaryons; their feasts were worthy of their name.
"A sumptuous feast, Lord Corlys. The hospitality of House Velaryon has proven itself! I ask for you to send the recipe of that delicious pike to the Red Keep's cooks, I wish to partake in it in the future."
"House Velaryon thanks you a thousand-fold, Your Grace. I shall have the recipe written down and sent posthaste."
Viserys smiled and stroked his chin. He looked at them, all members of his family, then focused on Albaz and Ecclesia. They had cleared out every plate surrounding them, and the girl quickly wiped the boy's cheek with a cloth, causing him to blush. The king opened his mouth to reply when his eyes widened again.
"I would like to see the dragons tonight." He declared.
A glacier seemingly swept through the room, and confusion struck like lightning. "Your Grace?" asked Rhaenys.
"If my daughter and brother's families are all present, that means all their dragons are on the island, correct?" At Daemon's and Rhaenyra's nods, he continued. "Five dragons present on Driftmark. My son cannot mount his Sunfyre properly yet, else it would have been six. Seven, since Helaena left Dreamfyre at the Dragonpit." Their mother insisted on it, to Helaena's unhappiness.
"A sight such as this…" he sighed wistfully. "Will not have been seen since the days of the Conqueror. I hope to witness that sight."
It was very much in line with his father's thinking, but it wasn't what Aemond expected him to ask. A glance at Aegon showed him averting his gaze, ashamed of his lack of flight.
At least you have a dragon, brother.
After several moments of hesitation, Corlys slowly nodded. "If that is your wish, Your Grace, it is our command. They are resting on a stretch of sand nearby. I shall have the horses and wheelhouses ready."
"Excellent. Would Albaz and the Lady Ecclesia accompany us? I wish to speak with them further about their stay in Valyria."
Laena turned to them and translated the king's words, occasionally gesturing and patting Ecclesia's hand when she appeared to grow nervous. The two youths looked at each other, as though an unspoken conversation was occurring between them. Finally, they nodded.
"They would be honored to, Your Grace. We planned on showing them the dragons as well, since the only encounter they had was with Meleys. Though, the wheelhouses might be too cramped if your maester joins us."
The king waved at her. "'Tis fine, we can converse plenty when we disembark."
Corlys stood up, and everyone else did so with him. He headed out of the hall and the queen was quick to follow in his footsteps. Aemond didn't hear what she whispered, but based on her eventually forlorn look, he knew it was yet another futile argument.
"At least this supper didn't turn out boring, brother," Aegon said softly as they walked. "I never thought the Rogue Prince could resemble an apple that much."
Aemond sniggered; that was enjoyable, he had to admit. His brother glanced behind them, where Albaz and Ecclesia were being escorted by Lady Laena. The subject of their jest was beside her, his fingers idly tapping the hilt of his fabled blade Dark Sister.
"I still believe the bards were exaggerating; look at her! How could she lift a hammer to knock out Daemon Targaryen?"
"Aye, she looks like she'd be more at home with Mother and Helaena's sewing circles," he muttered. "But our dear uncle wouldn't sulk as much if it was untrue."
This time Aegon sniggered, though his eyes never left the girl, who was walking shoulder to shoulder with her companion. Aemond resisted the urge to warn his brother; prince or not, his whoring was bound to bite him in the arse.
They soon arrived back at the courtyard and were ushered into the wheelhouse like before. More guards joined the retinue, along with another maester and a foreign, richly-dressed man. Horses were quickly mounted and commands were shouted, all the while his mother fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. He tried not to notice the blood, and how it stained her nails. Instead, he peeked outside and saw both Albaz and Ecclesia mount horses, with Lady Laena and her husband doing the same. Odd, he thought they would indulge in the wheelhouse, as Rhaenyra was doing with her children.
The reins cracked and the gates opened, and the royal caravan exited the gates of High Tide. Night had fallen and the moon cast its radiance upon the seas, bathing the island in its glow. It would have been more pleasant if it wasn't for the constant trotting of horses and creaks of the other wheelhouses. Fortunately, the way seemed a great deal shorter than their climb.
"You cannot misstep, Aegon," their mother hissed. "Even the slightest mistake could lose us support now. The Velaryons have shown their true colors, allying themselves with foreigners and barbarians. I've even heard rumors of foul sorcery circling this island, and they must be the cause."
Sorcery? Was his mother serious? Just because a girl could supposedly knock a man out with a hammer? No matter what the bards and the prissy Daemon had said, there had to be some stretching of the truth.
Aegon tried to respond, but Mother fixed him with a glare. "Convince the Velaryons with your actions that you are the rightful heir. If not, we must ensure none of the kingdoms support House Velaryon in the future. Any house that dabbles in sorcery is forsaken by the Seven. If the other houses see that, Rhaenyra will have lost their support. Do you understand?"
He saw his brother swallow and reluctantly nod. When Mother grew so nervous, there was no reasoning with her. He wouldn't lie; he shared her concerns, but for other reasons entirely, yet he wasn't sure as to what they were.
"Helaena," Aemond whispered to his sister. "What do you think of all this?"
At first no reply came, for she was too busy staring at the moon. Then, in her familiar softness, she replied.
"Mother is worried…but they seem so sad…so lost. I've never seen people like them."
He held back his sigh. Yet another cryptic muttering. Why did he expect anything else?
The sound of the waves grew louder and drowned the clopping of horseshoes. Moreso than that, distant rumblings sent shivers down Aemond's spine.
The wheelhouse came to a stop and Ser Criston opened the door. His mother was the first to disembark and he heard her gasp. Once he stepped out, he understood why.
Under the moonlit sky, lying upon gray sands, rested a long, enormous shape, with spines protruding from its long neck. Even in the distance, he could make out the slender forms of wings and tails coiled up and resting. Its red scales, glimmering like the ocean before him, painted a bloody creation upon the world, yet it filled him with nothing but awe. Looking around him and ignoring the other people who arrived, he spotted several more forms of scale and flesh across the beach - five in total, just like his father said. Gold, red, grey, and bronze glittered a priceless treasure that won his family a continent. They shifted in place, snapping at the ground and hissing at air, and Aemond had to force down the trembling that came upon him. Far off to his left, a ray of moonlight bathed the face of a mountain - nay, the gargantuan neck of a creature, bigger than all the rest, that made his heart pang with equal measure of both fear and longing.
At that moment, he cared not for some foreigners or the fact they were on the Velaryons' land. All he cared about were the great dragons before him. To mount and ride a dragon was the greatest honor a Targaryen could have.
And he would mount one. He swore it before the gods, whoever was watching.
"In all my years…" his father murmured, his eyes nearly shedding tears. "Extraordinary. Take heart, my family, for no lord or lady in Westeros has beheld such a sight since before the Doom."
The old maester assigned to him could also not contain his excitement, even as he scribbled away in a leather-bound journal. House Velaryon's maester was of similar disposition, and they resembled lovestruck maidens more than any he had seen. "I shall forever be in gratitude to you, Your Grace, for allowing us such a sight."
"Old Valyria come again on the shores of Westeros, the Citadel would never believe us…" the Velaryon's maester said, also clutching his own journal. "The Seven have truly blessed this night."
"The Old Blood would flood your cities with gold just for a glimpse of this…" whispered the maester's foreign friend.
Viserys nodded absently, absorbed in his wondrous trance. He gazed upon each one, including Vhagar the great she-dragon, before his eyes settled on the red one closest to them. "Daemon, would you mind-"
"Not at all, brother. Follow me."
The two royal brothers set upon the beach, drawing closer to the serpentine form of Daemon's dragon. The retinue also drew closer, though they kept a greater distance. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the two foreign youths, but unlike them no awe was upon their faces. Instead, there were narrowed eyes and tense limbs, even the boy's gloved fingers twitched.
Odd.
The dragon raised his spiked head at the sound of intruders and growled. Aemond's heart leaped in place, the scant memory of spying on Rhaenyra's Syrax growing vivid in ways he dared not imagine.
"Gīda, Caraxes!" cried Daemon, raising his arm. The dragon paused and lowered his head to his rider, letting him rest his palms upon his jaw. The king slowly reached out and ran his own hands upon its scales, with Daemon whispering to the beast all the while. Aegon's lips flared, an unknown emotion passing through his face. His mother looked ready to flee at any moment, clutching her pendant in silent prayer and edging closer to Ser Criston. Rhaenyra drew her children closer, yet no fear was written upon her, while Ser Strong grasped his sword. Grandfather remained stoic as he was, and Laenor stood by his sister, occasionally looking behind at what was no doubt his own dragon.
Caraxes shifted his head and swept over them, his heavy breathing loud as wind. But as he almost finished, his great nostrils flared…and he froze. The slits in his eyes narrowed to a line so thin it became invisible, and the growling returned with such sudden intensity that Aemond felt his stomach drop.
Something was wrong.
"Caraxes! Gīda, Caraxes! Gīda!"
But Daemon's commands did little to calm the red wyrm. He flared his jaws open and snarled at the party, prompting the Kingsguard to pull their liege away. The Rogue Prince tried to grab the red jaw once more, but Caraxes shook him off and his great legs pawed the ground. Amidst the newborn cries of confusion and panic, the dragon bellowed one more time before his yellow gaze landed right…on the Velaryon's foreign guests
Or more specifically, the boy Albaz.
The beach was dark and they stood far apart, so Aemond thought himself imagining it…but for a moment, he swore the boy's red eye glowed.
Aemond felt himself being pulled away and the world became awash with yells and cries. Amidst the pandemonium, he glimpsed Caraxes rushing forward and snapping his jaw at the boy. The boy threw himself to the side as the girl cried out his name, and Caraxes began attacking, attempting to sink his teeth into the boy's flesh. Yet Albaz dodged again and again, narrowly missing the jaws of death. They'd made it back to the wheelhouses when Caraxes roared into the night and reared his head, and against the blue and black of night, red bloomed behind yellow scales.
Daemon yelled and drew his sword, but it was for naught. A torrent rushed through and flooded the beach, bathing the air in a hellish glow. Aemond spotted the girl crying out, but then her eyes widened and she clutched the rocks behind her.
This was a disaster, both a blessing and a curse. The question remaining was what would happen -
The sky cracked with thunder and the earth erupted. If he'd paid more attention, Aemond would have noticed the dragons looking as one toward them. Caraxes stumbled back and roared at the pillar of flame which had formed before him…
…only to be silenced and slammed into the ground by a blazing claw.
Fire made flesh.
That's how the world described dragons. But the monster that appeared before him…embodied it.
Four great legs melted the sand beneath it. Fire coated every scale on its muscular form. Horns and spikes so sharp they looked like they could skewer a horse. A mane of pure flame danced behind its head. And the light from its great wings banished the dark.
It was as though the sun had descended to the earth, morphing into a twisted image of a dragon.
Aemond faintly heard prayers and battle cries, but he couldn't look away.
Caraxes roared and lunged at the monster, but the monster strengthened its grip and threw the Blood Wyrm away. A wave of sand emerged where he landed, but just as he got up, the burning dragon roared and charged. It slammed Caraxes to the ground and swiped viciously at him, and Aemond witnessed fire flying against the monster's neck.
But what use was flame against one cloaked in an inferno?
With a bellow that shook the earth, another pillar rose, high into the heavens. A storm swept over them and the stench of ash and soot filled Aemond's lungs, and despite his coughing, he didn't shield his gaze. A day had dawned at night, a sight that dwarfed all tales and songs.
The fire faded, but the monster still stood. It glared down at its fallen opponent - though Aemond could still spot the rising and falling of the Blood Wyrm's chest - and narrowed its molten eyes with a glare much like Daemon had given Aegon earlier.
It turned around and roared again, not at them but behind them. Aemond heard further snarls and rumblings amidst the crackling of flame, and the slow shifting of sand moving further and further away.
The monster's eyes finally landed on them and its whole body flared up. It took one step forward -
"ALBAZ!"
The girl stood there, arms outstretched and her blond hair shining against the monster's glow. It stopped and slowly looked down, eyes narrowing again. The girl then spoke, words once more unintelligible, whether by language or the sound of the fire Aemond didn't know or care. But he didn't yell at her to get away. Neither did Lady Laena who spoke her tongue.
Then, as though a spell was cast upon it, the dragon crooned and slowly lowered its head to the ground. The cloak of fire slowly died out, starting from the snout, and behind the smoke and red curtain, he glimpsed her cradling the dragon and pressing her forehead against him.
A dragon-rider. She, who wasn't a Targaryen, when he never claimed one, was a foreign dragon rider.
A glow bloomed within the dragon and the thunderclap returned. In a flash of light it vanished…and in the girl's arms, was the very boy they had thought dead not moments ago.
Lady Laena sprinted toward them, but only she moved. All else was rooted in place. Daemon's jaw threatened to drop from his skull and his mother was pale as poppy's milk. Rhaenyra and Laenor did much the same, and held their sons together like limpets. Corlys and Rhaenys however, only seemed mildly disturbed, even as they rubbed the heads of their granddaughters.
"Lord Corlys…what is this? What have you brought from Valyria?"
His father spoke for them all with his voice, a quiet, shocked, mesmerized and awed voice.
"Brother…I drank no wine today," whispered Aegon, his jaw quivering. "Or was the juice laced with Arbor Gold?"
Oh, the sweet summer child…
"Brother…I think we should brace ourselves."
"For what? Rhaenyra? Mother's warnings? The Velaryons? Them?"
For once, Aemond was not ashamed to admit that no answer came to him. All that he imagined was the blazing monstrosity - which had emerged from a white-haired boy - trouncing the fiercest dragon alive like it was a wailing toddler. Was this what the bards meant, by witnessing history before their eyes?
"I'm not sure…but given what we just saw, just about anything."
Boy, it's been a while huh?
But I'm back, and just in time for the announcement of a Yugioh OCG Lore anime! WITH BRANDED LORE! Shorts, but still! The heavens have answered!
We get our first look at the Greens and Blacks, how King Viserys is utterly oblivious, and the looming politics. Huge thanks to laughingnell for helping me with this part, they're the best!
And just when the night looks like it could get better...BOOM!
Our two exiles are gonna have a lot to work through. If not, then SMASH WITH HAMMER!
Huge thanks to Morgan the Grandmaster for being the main idea bouncer here. Now that I have a more concrete idea of where this fic will go, I hope to release chapters with greater frequency.
If you want to help fund my writing, hop over to my at pat . reon / user?u=47732921 and donate! Members will get previews and chapters ahead of time!
Also, if you don't wish to subscribe monthly, feel free to leave a small tip on my new ko-fi page at: ko-fi /darkscythedrake. I also make 3D art there, hopefully one day of my fics.
Huge thanks to all my patrons who are helping me fund my writing!
I have my own server Drake's Lair, at (discord . gg/2bD4UgyyPA). I do streams there on Saturday nights, CET time! Sometimes games, other times anime, whatever's fun! I'm also a member of the Shiro's Gaming Omniverse Discord (discord . gg/wd3tUYWVCd.) server. If you want to hop over and chat, either about this story or anything else, feel free!
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other ones and look at my profile for challenges!
Most importantly...
Read and Review! REVIEW!