Chapter 24 - Lions Revenge Arc

Aegon

They stood in the great Gods Wood of White Keep, even larger than the famous wood of Winterfell. Lady Lyanna had stated she refused to be married anywhere but before the eyes of the Old Gods.

The weirwood of the Gods Wood barely stood above the handsome king with silver hair and a face that seemed unearthly youthful for a man nearing middle age. The weirwood was only as old as the castle and the new city. It should not have had a face, the Silent Men had refused to carve one when Rhaegar asked. Aegon noticed the looks in everyone's eyes as a fresh feminine face, bleeding sweet tears of weirwood sap cried at them. The face struck familiar but he could not palace it. the North spooked him in a way no other thing did, not even the smoking remains of Valyria and the groans of the stone men from their isolation. And now he felt the eyes of their gods watching his every move. A cold chill crept up his spine.

The wedding itself was a private affair, the immediate family, partners and the family of the members of the small council. Marg held their son tight in her arms. Since the threat on all of their children's lives, Aemon had not left their sides. Somehow Rhaegar had learnt of Marg's baby, too, the one growing in her belly, not even three moons along.

Robb walked his aunt down the beaten dirt path towards the central weirwood in the place of Lord Eddard. Lyanna had wanted it to be him over her sons, Rickard and Brandon Manderly. Rumour had it Rickard was a dragon seed, from when Rhaegar and her had their affair at Harrenhall. She only married Manderly to hide the bastard in her belly.

Seventeen-year-old Rickard did not look like the late lord Manderly, not like his younger brother who was shaped like a wine barrel, short and stout and the age of three and ten. Rickard was tall, willowy and lean, his hair was the colour of Lyannas, a lush dark brown, and he bore mostly her features too, the mellow brooding on the wolves of the North but his eyes…deep and dark, almost black…Valyrain eyes, if you knew what you were looking for. The eyes of Aegon's mother, his sister Maegella, the eyes so purple almost black.

The pair stopped at the base of the weirwood and Robb took his place of honour beside little Dany and took her hand silently. Aegon smiled, he was fond of his younger sister, when they were smaller he would sneak her treats from the kitchens before he began his adventures around the Narrow Sea. By the time he returned little Dany wasn't so little anymore, but to him, she would always be the little sister.

The septon asked who gave Lady Lyanna away and Robb straightened his back.

"Robert Stark, heir to Winterfell, son of Eddard and Catlyn Stark. I give away Lady Lyanna to wed King Rhaegar Targaryen. I give my blessing before the sights of a heart tree, the old gods and the new, and men", he sounded strong and serious, much like his father. Although he looked like a Tully, with auburn hair and clear blue eyes like a summer's day, he was his father, a Stark, a true son of the North.

A potential ally in the wars to come, Aegon thought to himself. Every day that passed he felt more and more threatened by Rhaegar. Scared for his son, his wife, and his daughter who he had to keep hidden and safe. Every day Rhaegar grew more unstable, he wandered the half of the castle at night, and he talked to himself in High Valyrain…all things their father did when the Folly started, when the old blood families, mostly in the West, the Vale and the Riverlands, claimed he was going mad.

"And who stands to claim the bride?", the old septon with a turkey neck asked. Aegon shifted the weight of his body around on his feet. Sweat prickled along his brow although the day was cool and clear: nerves.

Rhaegar fiddled with the simple silverish necklace around his neck, with the simple Valyiran glyphs, the cursed thing he had never seen without now.

"I do. Rhaegar Targaryen, son of Aerys the Wise and Rhaella Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Heir of Old Valyria, the Silver Dragon, King of Westeros. I take Lady Lyanna Stark to be my wife before the sights of gods and men, old and new", he said cooly. Lyanna's face was dark as she noticed her two sons scoff at the king's words. Brandon, small and round, held his elder brother back from moving. Wolf and dragon temper, a deadly mix. The septon began to drone on, reciting prayers from the old gods and the new. His scratchy voice drained out as Aegon drifted into thought.

Stark, Aegon thought, Rhaegar had called her Stark. He's mad about the Song of Ice and Fire, the mixing of fucking seed. Man has already done it, look at his bastard. How dare he call me a disappointment when he had one of his own. At least Heleana and I had been wed, in a way…Aerea was… Heat raged from within him like dragon flames, like Wildfyre when she burnt her meals before she ate them. Why did this annoy him so? Why did a simple turn of phrase, or choice of word, enrage him?

Marg took his arm after passing their son to Shaena who stood beside them. She stroked the sleeve of his shirt. He realised that he had been hyperventilating, his thoughts consuming his head. The battle mode had been started in his head.

Her big doe eyes looked up at him, the eyes of their son. He hoped all of their children had her eyes, he wanted to see a piece of her every time he looked at their feelings of pride and joy. He wanted a big family, sons to teach to ride, daughters to teach to bow to no man except the one who won their hearts. He wanted to hold grandchildren in his arms and tell them stoires of the battles he fought and the wonders he had seen. Most of all he wanted a Realm where he would never have to pick up his sword again, where he would not have to go into battle mode again, but the feeling snaked around him with such intent.

Aegon the younger hid a yawn behind a gloved hand as Rhaegar kissed Lyanna under the heart tree. The younger girls: Shaenas and Dareons, Little Dany and Aerea, threw flower petals at the couple while everyone clapped. They were the only ones who looked happy during the ceremony, the lioness Joanna even wept at the vows, but the air grew grave. The adults traded worried glances as the new King and Queen of Westeros made their way to the Great Sept of Aeyrs to have Lyanna anointed under the Seven.

This was the start of the next chapter of Westerosi's future. When the chronicles of Rhaegar rule were written, this would be named the start of the fall, The Wedding of Ice and Fire, and the death of Rickard Manderly.

Excerpt 11

The death of Rickard Manderly, heir to White Harbour, a youth of only seven and ten marked a bloody stain upon the Wedding of Ice and Fire. After attempting to take the life of King Rhaegar, the boy was slain by Crowned Princess Rhaenys as she gallantly saved her father's life at his wedding.

However, this record has recently been changed as new information regarding the event has surfaced and corroborated by several sources, who under the order of the Great Conciliator, shall remain nameless.

The death of Rickard was no more than a premeditated attack orchestrated by none other than King Rhaegar himself. Although the motive is still unknown, the pyromancers who created the wildfire all agree the King looked like his Father, King Aerys the Wise, when he requested the green liquid flames.

As the couple kissed for far too long, in Aegon's opinion, Lyanna stood a full head shorter than Rhaegar, so she had to reach up on heavy boots to meet his face. During their embrace, a faint sulphuric smell filled his nose and surrounded the Gods' Wood. The birds that had been supplying their song to the ceremony went quiet, and only the sound of rustling leaves could be heard. He clenched Margery's hand tightly, feeling the eyes of Lady weirwood watch him.

Aegon the younger, the spoilt youth who shared his name, stifled a yawn and whispered something in Rhaenys ear, she blanched at his words and grinned. The girl of twenty traced a hand over her stomach. In Aegons mind, Rhaenys was what Elia would have been if she never married Rhaegar: strong, beautiful, cunning and full of fire. Would he be willing to fight and die to see Elias's girl on the throne? Would she be any better than Rhaegar, than him?

"And now we shall see them wedded…and bedded!", a voice cracked out from the crowds. Aegons spun to see where the voice had come from, to his shock it was Robert Baratheon, the drunkard husband of his elder sister, Shaena. Robert, the man who was supposed to have wed Lyanna, back when he was a young boy, why? Aegon thought, looking at his doe-eyed wife with a raised brow. He did not trust the lord of Stormsend, nor where his alliances would lie in the war to come. He knew Shaena was still filled with rage and grief, but Robert lacked a father's heart, to him, he only needed a son, an heir and he had that. Aegon could not trust a man who did not value his family with his life.

Lyanna turned to face the man with a look of shock and cold anger, the wolf look, she opened her mouth to speak before Rhaegar cut in, "I shall have no such thing. We shall all now retire to the King's Hall where we shall take a small-"

Aegon was knocked to the floor in a deafening boom and crack. The sulphur smell filled the air, along with blood and shit, someone has shat themselves. Aegon thought in a haze. Buzzing filled his ears and the sides of his eyes blurred. He reached out beside him to feel for Marg, the baby, the words filled his mind and barely escaped his lips.

"Margery, Margery!" he cried out, trying to regain his feet. The birds started to sing again. Their eerie song filled the air, crying. The caws turned to cries and they mixed with the wedding party's tears of pain and horror. He looked up at the weirwood. Sitting in its branches, laughed, were dozens of black crows, a murder waiting to strike. Their eyes, instead of brown or black, were green and bored into his soul. Aegon found his shaky feet and looked around. A crater by the heart tree smouldered, a few meters from where the wedding couple was standing. Most people were on the floor, some had regained their feet, and some lay unmoving.

Aegon looked down at Marg and their son by his feet. Their wee boy was wailing, alive, thank fuck, Aegon thought. He picked up his boy and shook Marg, she groaned but said his name weakly. He mumbled a prayer to any god listening for the life of his wife and son. But now his daughter.

"Aerea! Aerea, my girl my sweet girl, where are you?" he called in Valyrian through the haze of smoke. Small green fires had started on the smaller trees and grasses of the Gods' Wood. wildfire, the poor imitated of dragon blame made by the alchemists and pyromancers, so beloved by his father and elder brother alike.

Holding Aemon, he searched his eyes on the floor, walking his way to the Heart Tree where she was standing last. He spied two girls in black gowns with silver hair, blasted far to the right of the Heart Tree. voices of others began to fill the air, calling for help, for loved ones, the green flames began to grow, eating at the excessive flowers and trees. Far off, bells began to ring from the tall towers of White Keep.

"Aerea, Dany", he squatted by the two girls. Blood flowed from Aerea's ears, and a large gash kissed Daenyres' pale head and stained her silver hair. Both of them were breathing, but neither would wake up. He placed his son by the girls and cried for help. Guards had begun helping move people out, while the sound of sloshing pales mixed with the chaos of the Gods' Wood. the crows laughed at him. The old gods laughed at him.

"Let me help, my lord," said a faint feminine voice, one of Marg's ladies maids grabbed Aemon and soothed his head, and a weary Stark boy entered Aegons gazer and picked up Daenaryes like she was a bag of feathers. Aegon looked at his girl, his sweet girl, and suppressed a sob, while he picked her up. Her breath was weak. The old gods laughed again.

"We need to get them to see maesters", Robb said softly, looking down at his betrothed. Aegon nodded and turned to see Marg helping others, on her feet, covered in soot, her dress ripped to make bandages for people.

The old gods laughed once more, and a cry of rage filled the air. Aegon spun to see a tall lanky figure, blackmail hair and wearing Manderly colours, arm outstretched with a shining blade in hand, catching the light of the early morning sun. valyrian Steel, he thought, as the blade danced down…towards the unmoving body of the king, bleeding by the Heart Tree.

Aegon cried out, but he could do nothing as the boy attacked the unmoving king, until the crows dived, and metal rang on metal. Aegon watched, in awe, as Rhaenys blocked the great sword with some guards, half bent by heat from a wildfire. The princess, in a yellow and black gown, covered in jewellery and blood, kicked Rickard away with a cry. The boy pushed back. Rhaenys was the netter swordsman in Aegons eyes, the way he danced with the blade, but Ricvkard had unduly strength and a fire in his black eyes. The boy muttered words in a tongue that sounded like water on rocks, and wind in the trees, no real words, but eh sounds of old times passed. The crows slashed at Rhaenys or Rickard, Aegon could not tell. They exchanged a few blows, but lastly, Rickard fell, a slice across his chest, clean and smooth through his leathers and cloth, like a knife through butter. More crimson stained the grass as the guards surged in. Rhaenys wiped the blade on her gown and pushed back her black hair, the updo lost to the fight, she sighed and nodded to the fallen boy before her. Tears stained her bright purple eyes.

Lyanna found her feet and covered her mouth to suppress a cry. She hurled herself at the Targayern PIrcness and screamed curses. Rhaenys simply stepped aside, calm and graceful like flowing water. Bloodshock, Aegon thought, the fight is in her system and makes Lyanna no threat, but Rhaeyns is not in her head, she is lost in her eyes.

Guards pulled Lyanna from the corpse of her son and dragged her away. The king found his feet. Aegon recoiled. He was untouched, his hair, his clothes, his smile even, all still perfect. The chain around his neck showed a faint light, no, ate the light, sucking in the sun from all around his pale neck and black garbs. Before his eyes, Rhaegar's one chipped tooth grew itself back and Rhaegar simply shook his head, his dark eyes meeting Aegons. A fiery cold chilled his body.

"Come, boy. We need to get them inside", Aegon gestured to the doors near Robb, and they carried the girls inside. Rhaegars eyes never looked at the body of the boy who attempted his life. And the crows fell dead around his feet from above.

"No deaths, save for that of Rickard Manderly. Lady Lyanna is beside herself and refuses to speak with anyone. We have many burns, scrapes, and some damage to the God's Wood and courtyard. Several arrests had been made already, the guards posted for the ceremony, the entire guild of pyromancers, the rat catchers who know the tunnels under White Keep. More staff have been arr-", the voice of the Lord Commander, Selmy, droned on. He had been placed at the top of the investigation, alongside the Lord of Spiders. Rhaegar smiled from the head of the Small Council, his small chair made to model the Iron Throne. The small council plus the senior members of House Targaryen sat in silence. Everyone had taken a batter from the day previous. The explosion had not been large enough, some of the casks were found unlit. Maester Pycelle suggested the soil had been too damp to allow the fires to catch properly.

If Jae were here, he would have known why. Aegon thought. He missed his brother now more than ever. Jaeherys was always good in a crisis, he was the smartest of them all. He wondered where his brother would have leaned, as this family unrest grew and grew wildfire.

"An attack against the king, my person, the royal family and the faith, is punishable by death. By Dragonfire. Whoever is found associated with the attempt shall feel the song of Vaedarrio", Rhaegar said cooly, fiddling with his amulet. He was the only one not bleeding, not hurt, yet he was the closest to the blast.

I need to get the fuck out of here with my family, back to Dragon Garden, this man is mental, Aegon was lost in thought. He looked to Aegon and Rhaenys, the two looked so estranged from one another. Rhaenys listened to every word that passed the table while Aegon was away with the fairies.

"Father, my king, no one else need die. Rickard is dead…surely others can be spared. No one else needs to die…", Rhaenys said softly. The girl tried to hold tears in her eyes, her father's eyes, King Aerys' eyes, the only kind eyes he'd ever seen from that line. His heart panged for the girl, who was the first man shed ever killed.

"Princess Rhaenys, we cannot show weakness now. The Night Fish, the Kracken, the Wyrm in the East, the Lions, they all seek to strike us down, we cannot hesitate. The crown must look strong and the Dragons must be fierce", the Lord Spider sang sweetly. Aegon still did not trust that man who spoke in such riddles. But one of those names caught his ear.

"The Wyrm from the East?" Aegon asked. Varys smiled.

"Old Black Dragons, or so my birds sing, in Essos. A family that claims to be the union of Blackfyre and Princess Sarea of the Old King, centuries ago. But who can…really know", the eunuch waved his sleeved hands. Aegon swallowed bile and sweated through his hands. He rose from his chair and stormed from the room.

In her bed, Aerea looked so small and frail. Her chest rose and fell with great effort, but her breath was strong. Pycelle himself had looked over her, he said she would wake soon, but had a direct blow to the head. A concussion. He also feared for the blood that came from her ears, there was no damage outside, so it came from within. He knelt by her bed and held her warm hands. He had called for one of his men to bring Wildfyre to her room, she loved that small green dragon with all her heart. And he wanted her to protect his girl. The beast was the size of a war hound…with flames and razor-sharp teeth and claws, she kept his girl safe when a man could not when he could not.

"Oh my girl, my sweet girl, why will you not wake? I have treats for you, caramel, your favourite, only if you wake up. Wildfyre will be here soon, she will want to see you strong and ready to measure her. My girl", a tear fell from his face, "please my girl, just wake up for Papa". The small dragoness only breathed in reply.

"Uncle, she will wake soon, please believe me…I have seen it…I saw it last night", Aegon turned to see his tall niece, the Princess of Dragonstone with kind eyes and deadly hands…and the face of the weirwood.

"The gods, or something, I do not know. They have a great fate for Aerea, I saw her on the back of a large brown dragon with horns like a ram and eyes like the deepest Dornish sea. But the dream was silent, uncle. I… I do not think Aerea will wake up to hear the world again. I think her world will be in silence".

More tears fell from his face and Aegon held his baby girl's hand. He shook his head and rubbed her head. Aegon looked out the window. To the east. To Essos.

"She will see so much, learn so much, teach so much, her voice will hold so much power…the gods had to take something from her. They took her hearing, my lord. She will wake to a world of silence".

I am sorry, Helena. I have failed our girl, I could not keep her safe like I promised, and now war will break. I have failed you, my Black Wyrm.

Wildfyre, Sunchaser and Dusk all flew together over the city. Redwing kept to the floor by herself, sunning on hot rocks. Isaros and Kepax were held by chains in the New Dragon Pit, now named the Dragon Keep, and it was being built around them, and Vaedario, the beast of the king himself, resided elsewhere, locked away, and ever crying, singing to see the sun.