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Chapter Text

101 AC

The Great Council at Harrenhal. A pivotal moment in the history of House Targaryen. It was a moment during the reign of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, known to history as 'the Conciliator'.

Jaehaerys' reign was long, and prosperous, but such peace would be threatened by the uncertainty of the succession of the Iron Throne.

His initial heir was his eldest living son, Prince Aemon Targaryen. But when he was slain in battle, Jaehaerys moved to name his younger son, Prince Baelon Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne, regardless of the controversy this would spark. Prince Aemon sired one daughter with his lady-wife, Jocelyn Baratheon. A daughter by the name of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. By all accounts, Rhaenys should have succeeded her father as Princess of Dragonstone. Yet... Jaehaerys had seemed to favor a male heir, because no such thing came to pass.

Fate did not seem to be kind to Jaehaerys, however, as Baelon too predeceased the Old King, once again leaving him in need of an heir. At that point, the future of the Iron Throne was uncertain, and that sparked unrest.

Many supported the claim of Prince Viserys Targaryen, Baelon's eldest son by his sister-wife, Princess Alyssa Targaryen.

Many supported the claim of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Prince Aemon's daughter.

Fearing a civil war, Jaehaerys had convened the Great Council of Harrenhal, on the advice of his son, Archmaester Vaegon. Many came. Many participated.

In the end? It was Viserys Targaryen who was named heir.

The result of that council was that an heir was named. But bitterness remained, Rhaenys's most staunch supporter, her Lord Husband, Corlys Velaryon, took this the hardest, viewing it as an insult. But ultimately, nothing could be done, as Rhaenys had resigned herself to accepting whatever verdict was declared.

Some time after the Great Council of Harrenhal, a son was born to Prince Viserys and his consort, Aemma of House Arryn, who was also Viserys' first cousin through her mother, Daella Targaryen. Viserys was overjoyed at the birth of his second child and firstborn son. He was named Aemon, in honor of Viserys and Aemma's uncle, Prince Aemon, who would have been King had he lived. Accounts differ as to whether Princess Rhaenys took such a naming as an honor, or whether she felt insulted by it.

But regardless of that, Viserys and Aemma were overjoyed by their first son. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the couple's first child and only daughter, had also been thrilled by the birth of her new brother. Many saw Aemon's birth happening after the Great Council of Harrenhal as a good omen, which led the child be known as the 'Heir of Blessings'.

Not all were happy, however. Because Aemon's birth meant that the previous heir would be supplanted. Viserys' brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen. Though it was something he never openly expressed, it's clear to many that he'd resented his nephew for taking an inheritance which he felt should have been his. But he respected his brother, and never outwardly expressed his displeasure.

And yet... Daemon could not help the bitter look on his face when the day Aemon, on his 10th nameday, had been named heir to the Iron Throne.

112 AC

Aemon stared out the window of his bedchambers within the Red Keep, contemplating. Even at the tender of age ten, that's what he finds himself doing quite a bit these days.

'The Heir's Tournament'. A heir that Aemon's father, King Viserys I Targaryen, had organized in celebration of his son's naming as heir to the Iron Throne.

Aemon saw little point in it. The realm already knew he was to be heir to the throne, it was a given that as the first son, he was to be the future King. What was the point in hosting a tournament other than some arbitrary need for 'celebration'?

"Thinking again, brother?"

Aemon turned around at the sound of the feminine voice, revealed to belong to his older sister, Princess Rhaenyra. Clad in a golden-dress that opined her astounding beauty at the age of fourteen, Aemon always viewed his older sister as the true epitome of what a Targaryen Princess should be.

"This tournament is completely unnecessary." Aemon said bluntly, not even bothering to hide what he was thinking to his sister.

Rhaenyra chuckled at Aemon's words. "Oh? I would think many would be honored to have a tournament staged in their name."

"It's called the 'Heir's Tournament' Rhaenyra, not the 'Aemon's Tournament'." The Crown Prince retorted with a roll of the eyes. "Father staged this tournament for his heir, not for me."

"And you are his heir." Rhaenyra reminded him. "You are to be our King one day. A much bigger celebration will be staged when that day comes."

"If being King requires me to stage an arbitrary celebration at every milestone, I would rather not be King." He snarked. "Being King isn't something I desire. It is my duty."

"One you'll do well, I think." Rhaenyra reassured him. Rhaenyra had always had faith that her younger brother would make a magnificent King one day. He was already rather clever for his young age.

"I just... sometimes wish that you were the heir, instead of I."

Rhaenyra almost laughed at that. Despite how clever he could be, Aemon was still just a child, meaning he could quite naive sometimes. Though, Rhaenyra found it awfully sweet and endearing. "You know why know that would never come to pass." She told him gently. "Our cousin Rhaenys should have been Queen, really. But sadly, it was not to be. The Lords of Westeros much preferred a male heir. That would not change with me."

Aemon cringed at that. He knew the story of how his father had come to be King. The Great Council of Harrenhal, how his first cousin-once-removed, Princess Rhaenys, had been passed over in favor of his father, Prince Viserys. How this led to her becoming known as 'The Queen Who Never Was'. It demonstrated very well that the Lords of Westeros would sooner put the Realm to the torch than to allow a woman to sit the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra gently cupped her brother's chin, and said in a soft voice... "You are to be our King, whether you like it or not." She said in a firm, yet gentle voice. "But I have no doubts that you will be a fine King."

Aemon's facial expression softened at his sister's words. "Well... If you're saying it, I suppose it must be true."

Rhaenyra chuckled. "Of course. Have you ever known me to tell a lie?"

Aemon's smiled widened even more. Rhaenyra always had a way of making him feel better. "You stink of dragon, you know." He smirked. He could tell that his sister had been flying on her mount, the she-dragon Syrax.

Rhaenyra guffawed at that remark. "How funny. Mother told me the same thing when I saw her earlier." She couldn't help it, really. She just loved flying her dragon. "You would bear the same smell if you went flying with Silverwing more often." Rhaenyra said, referring to Silverwing, Aemon's dragon, and the former mount of their great-grandmother, Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen.

Aemon chuckled. Though, his expression softened at the mention of their mother, Aemma Arryn, the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms. She was currently pregnant with another child, so she was likely just lying in bed. "I think I'll go see mother myself."

Rhaenyra smiled, and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Go do that. I must take a bath, and wash off this stench."

With that, the two separated, Rhaenyra leaving to go have a bath, while Aemon went to go visit his mother in her bedchambers.

If he had known that would be the last time he spoke to her, he would have valued that conversation for all that it was worth.

Chapter Text

112 AC, Queen Aemma's Chambers

"Ah, my precious Aemon. How do you do, my sweet boy?" Spoke Queen Aemma Arryn, the wife of King Viserys and the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms. She spoke with such a deep affection for her only living son, Prince Aemon. After him and Rhaenyra, she went on to have one more child that died in the cradle, two miscarriages, and two stillbirths. That was five failed attempts to produce more heirs for the Targaryen dynasty. Though Aemma felt duty bound to keep Viserys's line going, the toll it took on her was very real. Hence, she always made sure to love her living children with all her heart.

Aemon gave his mother a big smile. "Rhaenyra mentioned having visited you, so I thought I'd do the same thing."

The queen rolled her eyes at her son and gave him a sweet chuckle. "Please don't tell me you intend to give me some mothering like your sister tried to do."

Aemon was acutely aware of the fact that his mother was a strong woman who didn't really want to be seen as someone who needed 'mothering', despite the fact that she's heavily pregnant with the next heir to the Targaryen dynasty. "Would you accept it if I was the one doing it?"

Aemma laughed. "No."

Aemon sat down next to his mother. "But you are okay, aren't you? You aren't feeling too unwell?"

She gave her secondborn child a reassuring smile. "It's a feeling I'm all too used to, sweet child." She looked at Aemon lovingly. He strongly resembled her husband, the King, Viserys. "One day, you will take a lovely lady to wife and sire children of your own."

Aemon knew that. As the future king, he would have to produce his own line of heirs to continue the legacy of the Targaryen dynasty. He wasn't entirely sure of his feelings towards having children of his own, but he put that down to him only being ten years of age. Perhaps his feelings about that would change as he got older. "Would I have to throw celebrations for mine own children, then?" He said with a bite of sarcasm to his words.

Aemma had to stifle a giggle. Aemon was only a boy of ten, yet he was wise beyond his years, and had the bite of someone in their full adolescence. "I know you think it pointless, but it shows that your father is proud of you as his heir."

Aemon shrugged. "He could just speak it in words."

"But sometimes, actions speak much louder than words, do they not?" Aemma pointed out.

Aemon couldn't argue with that. He always felt that his mother had all the right answers. "Do you think I'll be a good king, mother?"

Aemma looked surprised. Then tenderly, she cupped his cheek in a maternal fashion, the way she did it almost reminding him of his sister's earlier touch. "My sweet boy, of course you will be. How could you ever doubt it?"

The Targaryen Prince paused for a few moments before answering... "I suppose I just wanted to make sure." Of course, that was a lie. He knew the true reason he was asking. It's because he didn't really desire the throne. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if not desiring the throne when he was destined to be king made ill-suited to rule.

Yet if his mother thinks he would be a fit ruler... Then he may as well quell his own doubts for the time being. "Thank you mother."

"Of course." She chuckled. "Now go. Your father is expecting you at the Small Council."

Ah, of course. Today, his father wants him at the council meeting they're holding today, to allow Aemon to have a feel of the experience of what it will be like to hold these meetings himself one day.

112 AC, Small Council Chamber

"So I said to him... 'I think you might be looking up the wrong end.'" King Viserys joked with his Small Council, eliciting laughter from every member present, save for Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.

"My Lords." Corlys spoke, calling for the attention of the rest of the council. "The growing alliance among the Free Cities has taken to styling itself, 'The Triarchy'." Corlys stands up, rolling out a map to illustrate his point. "They have massed on Bloodstone, and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation."

Viserys raised an eyebrow at the Velaryon Lord, as if he is unable to see a problem with that. "That sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys."

Corlys had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at the King's lack of understanding. "A man called Cragas Drahar has styled himself the Prince-Admiral of this Triarchy." At the moment Corlys said those words, in entered Princess Rhaenyra and her younger brother, Prince Aemon.

Viserys almost scoffed at the words of the Velaryon lord. "Are we meant to weep for dead pirates?"

Corlys sighed. "No, Your Grace."

"Rhaenyra, Aemon, you're late." Viserys chided gently. He especially directed his gaze to Rhaenyra. "A King's cupbearer must not be late. Leaves people wanting for cups."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes slightly. "I was visiting mother." She said, as she leaned over to give her father a kiss on the cheek.

Viserys, however, did not miss the distinct smell of dragon emanating from his daughter's person, and he smirked. "On dragonback?"

Aemon shot his sister a look. "I thought you said you were going to take a bath."

Rhaenyra simply gave her brother a cheeky smile. Aemon sighed, and sat down next to Otto Hightower, Viserys' hand.

Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin, decided to inject his own thoughts into this conversation. "Your Grace, at Prince Daemon's urging, the Crown has invested significant capital in the re-training and re-equipping of his City Watch." The Lord of Honeyholt affected an annoyed expression at the mention of Daemon 'the Rogue Prince' Targaryen. "I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide an assessment of his progress as Commander of the Watch."

Viserys sighs. He's heard numerous complaints about Daemon's constant absence from the council meetings, yet the King knows his brother well. His commitment to the council isn't exactly... reliable, to put it lightly. "Do you think Daemon is distracted his by his present tasks? And that his thoughts and energies are occupied?"

Lyman barely held back a scoff. "Well, one would hope so, considering the associated costs."

Viserys smiled wryly. "Then let us consider your gold well-invested, Lord Beesbury."

Aemon had to almost bite back a laugh. He knows that his uncle isn't exactly the Small Council's favorite, a resentment The Rogue Prince clearly reciprocates in full. The Crown Prince has never been particularly close with his uncle, there was always a distance between them. Viserys always dismissed it as simply that Daemon simply had no idea how interact with his nephew, though Aemon knew exactly why his uncle resented him. He wasn't as naive as most thought. Even at ten, he had a firm grasp of the fact that before his birth, Daemon Targaryen was Viserys's heir. But that was all gone once Aemon was born to Viserys and Aemma.

Corlys drawed the council's attention back to him, a certain impatience in his voice. "I would urge that you not allow this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones, Your Grace. If those shipping lanes shall fall, it will beggar our ports."

Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, interjected. "The crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement."

Aemon instinctively opened his mouth. "But if this Triarchy is affecting our ports, shouldn't it be taken care of as soon as possible?"

The Small Council directed raised eyebrows at the young prince, and in that moment, Aemon wished he hadn't his opened his mouth. He was almost certain that they would simply dismiss his remark as a young child who didn't know what he was talking about.

Lord Corlys was the only one who seemed to take Aemon's side. "If even the young Prince sees the pressing need to curb this Triarchy's movements, I don't think we should direct our attention away from it."

That, much to Aemon's surprise, seemingly managed to persuade Viserys, if even just a little bit. "Of course. Perhaps we should have a discussion about this at a later meeting."

Corlys seemed somewhat satisfied with that answer. It wasn't as if they were making active plans, but at least this wasn't something they intended to brush aside until it became relevant to them. The Lord of the Tides gave Aemon an approving nod, while Rhaenyra also gave her younger brother a proud smile for his intervention. Aemon, for his part, was just surprised his father actually seemed to take stock in what he said.

Otto decided to switch the subject. "Shall we discuss The Heir's Tournament, Your Grace?"

The young Aemon Targaryen cringed at the mention of that accursed tournament. That was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"I would be delighted." Viserys said in an almost cheerful tone.

"I'm not." Aemon mumbled under his breath, not that anyone but his sister heard that, and the only thing she did was stifle a giggle at that sulking remark.

"Will the maesters' nameday prediction hold, Mellos?" Viserys asked the Grand Maester, Mellos.

The Grand Maester looked uncertain. "You must understand that these things are mere estimations, my King, but we have all been poring over the moon charts and we feel that our forecast is as accurate as it can be."

Aemon knew what they were talking about here. Viserys intended for the tournament to begin on the same day that his new sibling was predicted to be born. The young Prince did question his father on that particular choice, and he simply stated that if the boy is another son, which he seems to be fairly confident that it is, that would be two heirs of the Targaryen dynasty to honor. He could remember the disappointed look on his sister's face when he said that, as Viserys, intentionally or not, had basically confirmed that Rhaenyra wasn't really considered an heir, due to the primogeniture laws that state that men inherit before women.

Lyman Beesbury once again spoke his thoughts. "The cost of the tournament is not neglible. Perhaps we might delay until the child is in hand?"

"Most of the lords and knights are on their way to King's Landing already." Lyonel Strong pointed out, as Rhaenyra poured him a drink, and also moved to pour Lord Corlys a drink as well, though the Sea Snake abstained, preferring not to have his senses dulled by wine during an important meeting. "To turn them back now..."

Viserys held up a hand. "The tourney will take the better part of a week. Before the games are over, my next son will be born, and the whole realm will have more cause to celebrate."

Aemon looked uncertain at that. "Uh..." The young prince wanted to interject, but his nerves overtook him again. He felt as if he already overreached the first time, he didn't want to do it again.

Viserys, however, noticed his son's uncertainty. "Aemon, my boy. You look as if something is troubling you. If so, please, do not be afraid to speak your mind." The King said to his son gently.

At his father's reassurance, Aemon decided to speak his mind. "Well... what if mother has a girl?"

Grand Maester Mellos seemed to agree. "The Prince does speak a truthful possibility, Your Grace. Although we can predict a possible nameday for the child, I'm afraid it is impossible for us to know what the sex of the child will be."

Viserys pondered these facts for a moment, before simply smiling again. "Well, Aemon. If your mother has girl... then you have another sister. And that's still reason to celebrate, is it not?"

Aemon blinked at how his father still managed to find some positivity in such a possibility, while Rhaenyra merely snorted and rolled her eyes, though covertly enough that nobody really noticed.

Though, deep in the back of his mind, he knew that his father still wished for another boy.

112 AC, Throne Room

"He passed through the Red Keep's gates at first light." Said Ser Harrold Westerling, a Knight of the Kingsguard, as he escorted the Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aemon to the Throne Room.

"Does our father know he's here?" Rhaenyra inquired. Ser Harrold shook his head.

"No."

Rhaenyra smirked. "Good."

Harrold opened the doors to the Throne Room. And as soon as Rhaenyra and her younger brother stepped into the room, the first sight to befall their eyes was that of their uncle, Prince Daemon Targaryen, across the room from them, sitting on the Iron Throne.

"Gods be good." Muttered Ser Harrold, shocked at Daemon's disrespect.

Rhaenyra and Aemon, however, were not shocked at their uncle's display. They knew very well he didn't care much for respect or any sort of decorum.

"It's alright, Ser." Aemon said, not at all surprised by his uncle's behavior.

Rhaenyra and Aemon both approached the Iron Throne, the former with a smirk on her face, and the latter looking rather tentative.

"What do you think you're doing, Uncle?" Rhaenyra asked, invoking the Targaryen mother tongue of High Valyrian.

"Sitting." The Rogue Prince responded simply, also speaking in High Valyrian. "This could have been my chair, once." He then directed his gaze to his nephew, Aemon, his expression kind. "Nephew."

Aemon nodded courteously, a bit surprised at his uncle's kind expression. "Uncle."

Rhaenyra could sense the tentative feeling within her brother. It's no secret to those who know Daemon that he resented his nephew for taking his place as heir to the Iron Throne. Daemon felt that something that should have been his, something he could have built a legacy with, was swiped from under him.

That's not to say Daemon felt no guilt for the way he treated his nephew. He didn't want to feel this way about him. He understood that the boy was a child, his father's son, and that the laws of the land simply favored him as his brother's heir. Yet, Daemon could not look at Aemon without seeing the reason why he lost an inheritance he felt should have belonged to him.

"Perhaps once, but my brother is to be king one day." Rhaenyra said teasingly. "And if he didn't stop you, getting executed for treason certainly would."

Daemon snorted at his niece's joke. The Rogue Prince had been closer to his niece than he had his nephew, if only because of the fact that she wasn't an obstacle when it came to the succession of the Iron Throne. It's one of the things that saddened the Crown Prince.

"It has been a long time since we've seen you in court." Aemon remarked, also speaking High Valyrian relatively well, despite his youth.

"Aye. It is so dreadfully boring." Daemon responded with a playful smirk.

"So why come back at all?" Rhaenyra asked.

"I heard your father was hosting a tournament in the honor of his heir." Daemon said, stepping down from the chair, and placing a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "I must give you congratulations, nephew."

Aemon blinked in surprised. That's probably the most affection he's ever received from his uncle, so much so that Aemon is skeptical if there's some underlying reason why Daemon would come for a tournament that's being hosted for him. "I did not wish for this tournament, Uncle, but Father insisted."

Daemon gave the young Prince a sympathetic look, though Aemon couldn't tell whether or not it was genuine. "Alas, being the heir comes with a great many privileges. Even those you do not want." He then brought out a small sheath, and handed it to his nephew. "I brought this for you." He said, now speaking the common tongue.

Aemon raised an eyebrow, and the young Prince unsheathed the blade. It was a dagger. Made of... "Valyrian steel. Like Dark Sister." He observed the dagger intently. "It's... small." It resembled the Valyrian Steel dagger that his father owned, though it was slightly smaller.

"For someone of your stature, that is an advantage, believe me." Daemon smirked. "Just don't tell your father I gave it to you."

Aemon looked up. "That's... very kind of you, Uncle." Almost unusually kind. He knew his uncle had resented him for many years, so this kindness he was displaying was completely unlike the Daemon Targaryen he had a very distant relationship with. He almost felt skeptical about this.

Daemon, however, laughed. "Do not look so suspicious, nephew. This is no trick." He reassured him. "It would not serve me well to remain resentful forever."

Aemon remained quiet for a moment, before smiling gratefully at Daemon. "Thank you, Uncle." Though... Aemon had to wonder if the words Daemon spoke were true.

Rhaenyra, however, piped in before he could really dwell on it. "Well, it's nice that you would wish to set that grievance of yours aside, Uncle." Rhaenyra affected a mock-offended tone. "But I am absolutely galled that you brought nothing for me."

Daemon laughed at his niece's jesting tone. "I did not forget about you."

Aemon cringed. He didn't like the way Daemon had said that, for some reason.

Daemon presented his niece with a necklace. Rhaenyra looked at in awe. "This is made of Valyrian Steel as well." Rhaenyra moved to take it, though Daemon pulled it back.

"Turn around." Daemon said. The Princess did as he said. She removed the necklace currently adorning her neck, before allowing Daemon to place the one he had brought around her neck. "Now... all of us have a small piece of our ancestry."

Rhaenyra smiled at her uncle's remark. "Well, thank you, Uncle. These gifts are much appreciated."

Aemon also smiled, though it didn't quite fully reach his eyes. He wanted to believe his uncle was doing this out of the kindness of his heart, but the two of them had been very distant for quite a long time. He found his uncle's sudden display of kindness to him... jarring, and couldn't help but wonder if there was some kind of hidden motivation behind it...

...

Or perhaps the young Prince is simply reading too much into it...?

...

...

Chapter Text

112AC, Aemon Targaryen's Bedchambers

As nightfall came, Aemon was in his bedchambers, reading. Reading was often his favorite thing to do. He was the studious type, preferring to learn the histories rather than engage in more physical pursuits, such as sword fighting.

Then, a knock on the door. "Come in." Beckoned the young Prince, and in entered Lady Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his father's hand, Ser Otto Hightower, and Rhaenyra's best friend.

"You're reading late." She said with a kind smile. A girl of 14 like his older sister, Alicent Hightower was currently adorned in a white nightgown, clearly having prepared to go to bed.

"Well, as you know, I like reading before bed." He said, smiling softly. He was fond of Alicent. Over the years he's known her, she's always been like a secondary sister to him. Kind, caring, and always looking out for his best interests.

Alicent sat down in front of him. "'Ten Thousand Ships'. Heh. I was going over that book with Rhaenyra in the Godswood earlier today, though she wasn't particularly interested."

Aemon chuckled. That certainly sounded like Rhaenyra, if he knew his sister well enough. "Yes, she doesn't really care much for what Septa Marlow might say."

Alicent giggled. She was tempted to recount to Aemon the moment Rhaenyra had ripped out the page of the book she had been reading, and that the Princess had only responded with 'fuck the Septa' when Alicent had pointed out that Septa Marlow would be furious when she saw the book, though she didn't feel it appropriate to use such profane language in front of a child of ten, even if he was rather mature for his age. "Are you alright?"

Aemon looked up at Alicent with a questioning eyebrow. "Did my sister ask you to come see me?"

Alicent gave the young Prince a guilty smile. "She might have mentioned that you were seeming anxious."

Aemon remained silent. It's true, he was feeling anxious. And there was one particular reason for that. "The Heir's Tournament."

Alicent raised an eyebrow. "The tournament is making you anxious? I'd have thought that you might have been honored."

The Crown Prince let out an almost exasperated sigh. "Yes, everyone keeps saying that. But to me, it's just a reminder of the pressure that's being placed on my shoulders."

Alicent sat there in silence for a moment, contemplating his words. She understood what he was trying to say. Aemon was the Crown Prince, the heir to the Iron Throne. He had big shoes to fill one day, and this tournament was likely reminding him of that fact. And again, despite his maturity, Aemon was only ten years old. It's understandable why this may seem daunting to him. "I'm sure many young noblemen understand how you feel."

"I doubt it." Aemon dismissed. "Those young noblemen aren't expected to be King."

Alicent looked at him with affectionate sympathy. "What kind of King do you want to be?"

Aemon thought about that for a moment. "Even if I don't want to be King... Still... I want to be a King that... that is benevolent, and just. Something my family can be proud of. And someone that is good for the Seven Kingdoms."

The Hightower girl nodded. "That's already a step in the right direction. You want what's best for the Kingdoms. A good King should always think of the realm. Of course, I am no expert..."

Aemon smiled. "I still appreciate the sentiment, Alicent."

Alicent smiled back. "I feel as if there's more than just the tournament that has you feeling the way you do."

That was one of Aemon's favorite things about Alicent. She was very perceptive.

Aemon brought out the sheath that his uncle gave him earlier, and withdrew the small Valyrian steel dagger. "My uncle gave me this."

Alicent looked surprised. "Did he? That's... kind of him."

"Yes. Too kind, I think." The young Prince mused. "I can't quite understand him. He's always seen me as the one who took his destined throne, yet... he gives me this."

"Perhaps he's... finally ready to let go of his resentment." Alicent tried to reassure him, although the words didn't quite reach her eyes.

Aemon shook his head. "Or perhaps he wants something. My favor, perhaps. To be my hand, maybe, when I am King... I don't know. I don't know why I can't trust him. Perhaps it's because I've always known that Daemon thinks that..."

"...He thinks that...?" Alicent asked, urging him to finish what he was saying to her.

"...That he would make a legacy much better than mine." He finished.

Alicent felt a pang in her heart. Now it's more clear from where this insecurity stems. Daemon. Daemon, who'd always made his resentment to his nephew clear to him. Daemon, who'd wanted to be King, but had his hopes dashed when a son was born to Viserys and Aemma.

The Hightower girl places her hand on Aemon's, in a gentle, sisterly manner. "Listen to me, Aemon." The Prince looks up at her. "You are the King's firstborn son. And what everyone in the realm knows, in their blood and in their bones, is that one day, you are to be our King." Alicent gives Aemon's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Do not ever forget that, and do not pay Daemon any mind."

Aemon's insecurities began to melt away, little by little. This was why he saw Alicent as a sister-figure. "Thank you, Alicent."

The Hightower girl nodded with an affectionate smile. "Of course."

112AC, Small Council Chambers

Come the morning, a Small Council meeting was being held. The subject being discussed wasn't a pleasant one. Aemon had heard of his uncle's... violent exploits the night before, in his attempt to demonstrate the results of his reformation of the City Watch. Many criminals of different varieties had met different punishments. Thieves lost their hands, rapers lost their cocks, and murderers lost their heads. Ser Otto had been told by the time it was all over, they needed a two-horse cart to haul away the resulting dismemberments.

Viserys sighed in annoyance. "Gods be good." He muttered.

"That's the polite way of saying it, I think." Aemon grimaced. He was well aware that his uncle had a penchant for violence, yet the sheer brutality displayed last night was still rather... bone-chilling.

Otto nodded, his voice displaying a strong amount of annoyance. "The Prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity."

As they arrived in the Small Council chamber, much to Aemon's surprise, Daemon was already present. "Brother." He said, greeting Viserys.

"Daemon." Viserys replied politely, as he moved to sit down.

"Nephew." Daemon said, giving the younger Prince a smile that mimicked Viserys's polite demeanor. "What a surprise to see you here."

Aemon felt slightly annoyed at that remark, but still comported himself effectively. "I thought it beneficial that I continue to attend Small Council meetings."

Daemon smirked. "Smart boy." He then directed his smirk to Otto, who was looking at Daemon in annoyance. "Go on, Ser Otto. You were saying something about my impunity."

Otto was clearly annoyed, yet he tried to compose himself in the face of Daemon's blatant attempts to annoy him. "You are to explain your doings with the City Watch." The Hand of the King said calmly.

"Your new gold cloaks made quite the impression last night, didn't they?" Viserys said.

Daemon snorted. "Did they now?" He replied sarcastically.

Otto wasn't quite able to keep the annoyance out of his voice this time. "The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They're an extension of the crown."

Daemon shrugged, acting as if he doesn't see the problem here. "The Watch was enforcing the crown's laws. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Strong?"

Aemon noted that Daemon had directed his question to Lyonel Strong in particular. On top of being Lord of Harrenhal, he was also the Master of Laws, being the chief legal officer and advisor to the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms on matters relating to the laws of the land and the administration of justice. Not to mention he was also responsible for the overseeing of the City Watch. It made sense why his uncle directed that question to the Lord of Harrenhal specifically.

Though, Lyonel Strong himself seemed rather reluctant to agree with Daemon. "My Prince, I don't think-"

Otto had interrupted before Lord Strong could share his sentiment. "Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws."

Daemon scoffed, clearly disagreeing with Otto, like he always did. "Nobles from every corner are right now descending upon King's Landing for the tourney my brother is hosting for my nephew. Do you want them mugged, raped, murdered? You mightn't know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep..." Daemon sniped at Otto. "But much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying."

Otto looked unamused at what Daemon was saying. Aemon decided to pipe in. "And you think meeting that with twice the brutality is the solution...?"

"It's better than no solution, nephew. Our city should be safe for all its people." Daemon chuckled. "Perhaps you'll come to understand this when you take your father's seat."

Aemon bristled at that remark, whilst Otto looked offended on his behalf. "The Prince is a child." Otto replied with a hint of indignation.

"He won't be a boy forever." Daemon rolled his eyes. "And if you think he's old enough to sit on these meetings, he can handle what's being said here."

"That's enough, Daemon." Viserys said firmly. "Aemon speaks the truth. I agree, the city should be safe for all the people. Yet you shouldn't have to maim half of it to achieve this."

Daemon's confident grin never left his lips. "Time will tell."

Lord Corlys Velaryon seemed to be the only one who approved of Daemon's tactics. "We installed Daemon as commander to promote law and order. The criminal element should fear the City Watch."

"Thank you for your support, Lord Corlys." Daemon said, satisfied that at least one person on the council agreed with his approach.

"If only the Prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does his work, Your Grace." Otto sniped, a hint of mocking in his tone.

Aemon knew what Otto was talking about. Daemon was wed to Lady Rhea Royce, the Lady of Runestone, which was arranged by Aemon's mother, Queen Aemma Arryn. But neither party really desired the match, and it was evident that the Rogue Prince greatly disliked the Lady Royce, disparagingly referring to her as his 'bronze bitch'.

"How is Aunt Rhea these days?" In truth, Aemon had never spent much time around Lady Royce, but she was his aunt-by-marriage, and he always showed the courtesy of giving her that title.

"I am afraid he wouldn't know, my Prince." Otto gave Daemon a pointed glance. "He has not been seen in the Vale, or at Runestone for quite some time."

Daemon scoffed, the contempt he felt for his wife clear in his voice. "I think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence."

Otto once again affected an offended look. "Lady Rhea is your wife. A good and honorable Lady of the Vale."

Daemon snickered derisively. "In the Vale, men are said to fuck the sheep instead of women. I can assure you, the Sheep are prettier."

Viserys sighed in exasperation. Aemon didn't seem particularly bothered by that remark despite his tender age, since he's heard worse. Lyman Beesbury seemed to be the only one to openly voice his disgust. "Dear me."

Otto seemed to get more impatient. "You made a vow before the Seven to honor your wife in marriage."

Daemon rolled his eyes. "I'd gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you're in want of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently. ...Did she not?"

Otto furiously stood to his seat at that remark. He may not have been the most openly affectionate person, but he will not stand such remarks made about his wife.

Aemon also gawked at Daemon's callous, tactless remark. "Uncle, that was too far."

Viserys tried to calm Otto down. "Otto."

Daemon just shrugged, chuckling. "Perhaps you aren't ready to move on just yet."

"Uncle!" Aemon snapped. "That's enough. Apologize."

Daemon, Otto, even Viserys looked surprised at the fierce tone in Aemon's voice. Daemon, for his part, wasn't quite sure if he was to take this command seriously.

"Now." Aemon repeated more firmly.

Daemon just stared for a few seconds, before smiling in a manner that almost seemed... proud, perhaps? Maybe it's the fact that this boy of ten managed to stand up to the Rogue Prince in this manner. "I apologize, Lord Hightower. That was an unbecoming remark."

Otto looked like he wanted to say something else, as he did not believe that a single word of Daemon's apology was genuine, but he didn't want to further this argument any longer, so he simply sat back down, while eyeing Daemon icily. Though, he gave Aemon a nod of appreciation. "Thank you, my Prince."

The Small Council meeting didn't last for much longer after that. After warning Daemon that a repeat of what happened last night will be answered, he affirmed his understanding, and then left the Small Council Chambers. Soon after, the rest of the Small Council followed suit, leaving only the King and his son behind.

Viserys sighed. "I'm sorry about your uncle. That was... tasteless of him, the way he behaved."

Aemon gave his father a wry smile. "It doesn't surprise me."

Viserys didn't know whether he should laugh or feel bad about that remark. "King's Landing has been in decline since your great-grandmother, Queen Alysanne, has passed."

The Crown Prince contemplated those words. The very dragon he rode, Silverwing, had once belonged to his great-grandmother, who was known to many as Good Queen Alysanne. His great-grandfather, King Jaehaerys, known to many as 'the Conciliator', was one of the longest reigning Targaryen Kings so far. He was beloved by many, and that sentiment extends to his sister-wife, Queen Alysanne. From what Aemon knew, she was practically a co-ruler with Jaehaerys, as she was heavily involved in governing the realm.

"I'm aware." Aemon responded. "I suppose that's why you're giving Uncle Daemon a pass this time."

Viserys nodded. "Yes. In the end, this new City Watch might be a good thing." Viserys sighed. "Still... not many stand up to your uncle that way... aside from Otto. Well done."

"It wasn't a sincere apology." Aemon knew that much. He wasn't truly proud of forcing his uncle to apologize. Because Daemon more than likely just saw it as an amusement.

"Perhaps not." Viserys grimaced. Otto Hightower and Daemon had never truly gotten along. Their personalities clashed at every turn, and it was obvious that Otto would rather that Daemon did not have a place at court at all. But since he was the King's brother... he had no choice to grit his teeth and bear it. "Still... it was a valiant effort. An attitude you may need once you sit my throne."

"When I'm King, you mean." Aemon said.

"Yes." Viserys mused. "When you're King."

"It's not something I want. It's only a duty to me." Aemon said, wishing to express his thoughts regarding his inheritance.

"I know." Viserys said solemnly. "I did not wish for the crown. Not really. It came to me through happenstance."

Aemon knew that. It was only because the Lords of the Realm had a preference for a male heir that his father sat the throne that he did today. "If you could... if you could make it so that you weren't the one who held the crown... would you?"

Viserys had to think about that. "Maybe." The King responded. "But it is a duty we must carry forward, my son. Me, you... and your future brother."

Aemon nodded simply. He knew his father believed the new child would be a boy. It was mainly due to his dreams, dreams that he believed prophesied the future of House Targaryen. And in that moment, Aemon trusted his father's beliefs.

But if he had known what was going to happen next, he'd have chastised himself heavily for that foolish belief.

Chapter Text

112AC, The Heir's Tournament

And so the day had arrived. The tournament celebrating Aemon's naming as heir to the Iron Throne had finally arrived. Many had come to compete, many had come to see.

Prince Aemon was seated in the Royal Box, seated next to his sister, Princess Rhaenyra. Next to her sat Lady Alicent Hightower, and across from them sat the children of Lord Corlys Velaryon, Laenor and Laena Velaryon. Speaking of Lord Corlys, he was sat in the row behind them, along with his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, also known as 'The Queen Who Never Was'. His father and Otto Hightower were also in the row behind them.

"Be welcome!" Viserys called loudly to everyone present in the stadium. "I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games, but I promise you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group of equals in our histories." He then gestures to Aemon. "And remember... this day honors my son, our future King!"

The crowd began cheering for Aemon. Though most would have relished the adulation, it only made Aemon feel nervous. He was usually not very outgoing, and so all this attention caused him a bit of discomfort.

His sister seemed to have noticed this, because she gently squeezed his hand. "It's alright. Just smile." She gently encouraged.

Aemon nodded, and held himself together, smiling as best he could. Having his sister's support did bring him a measure of comfort.

"And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share!" Viserys raised his voice even more. "Queen Aemma has begun her labors!"

More cheering erupted from the crowd, demonstrating the excitement of the crowd for what was to come.

"May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!" Viserys said, finishing his speech.

The crowd's cheering increases in volume as the King finishes his declaration. So, it begins. Thought the young Prince Aemon.

The combatants rode forward, lances clashing together and competitors crashing to the ground as they are unseated.

A knight bearing a shield with ten black pellets on scarlet managed to effortlessly unseat a competitor that served House Tarly. It was undoubtedly an impressive display of force, and one that left the Princess Rhaenyra intrigued. As the Tarly soldier was helped away, the mystery knight that had unseated him bowed himself to the audience.

"A mystery knight?" Rhaenyra questioned, wondering just who this unfamiliar combatant was.

Alicent shook her head. "No, a... Cole of the Stormlands?"

The name didn't seem to incite any recollection in the Princess. "I've never heard of House Cole."

Aemon didn't quite know much of House Cole either. He turned to Ser Harrold Westerling, inquiring... "What do you know of House Cole, Ser Harrold?"

Ser Harrold scratched his beard. "Well, I know that they are commonborn. That knight is Ser Criston Cole, son of Lord Dondarrion's steward."

"The Lord of Blackhaven?" Aemon questioned.

Harrold nodded. "Yes. But beyond that, and the effortless way he unseated that Tarly lad... I really couldn't say much, my Prince."

Aemon said nothing, but he found himself intrigued by this Ser Criston Cole. Whether he hailed from a lesser house or a greater one, there's no denying he was a knight of impressive martial prowess.

"Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!" Called another voice, one who carried a sigil bearing a black stag on a golden field; the sigil of House Baratheon of Storm's End. Lord Boremund Baratheon, to be precise. He was Rhaenys' uncle, as he was the brother of her late lady mother, Jocelyn Baratheon. "I would humbly ask for the favor of The Queen Whoever Never Was."

As Rhaenys stood, she raised an eyebrow, her gaze directed between her husband Lord Corlys, and her cousin, the King. She wasn't sure whether that was intended to be some form of backhanded insult, or an honor. Regardless, Rhaenys paid it no mind, instead taking it in stride and taking a light blue wreath and placed it on Lord Boremund's lance. "Good fortune to you, Uncle." She said with a graceful, pleasant smile.

Aemon admired how Rhaenys took Lord Boremund's remark in stride. He knows that he once said that his sister is what he thought of as the true epitome of a Targaryen Princess, but he could most certainly say that he also heeded his father's cousin in such a regard as well.

"I would gladly take it, if I thought I needed it." Lord Boremund said with a smug, arrogant smirk.

Aemon cringed at that condescension. "Someone has a bit too much pride in himself..."

Alicent giggled. "Some men are under the impression they are unbeatable until someone knocks them off their horse."

Otto leaned in closer to Viserys. "You could have Baratheon's tongue for that."

Viserys, however, just waved it off, seeing it as nothing more than pointless bantering. "Tongues will not change the succession. Let them wag."

Meanwhile, Alicent and Rhaenyra were gossiping amongst themselves. "Lord Stokeworth's daughter, is promised to that young Tarly squire."

Alicent raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Lord Massey's son?"

Rhaenyra nodded in confirmation. "They're to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood."

Alicent scoffed at that. "Best get on with it. I hear Lady Elinor's hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress."

Rhaenyra gasped at that, while Alicent simply gave her a cheeky smile.

Aemon says offhandedly... "It's probably not his then." Alicent and Rhaenyra turned to Aemon with widened eyes. Aemon looks at them, confusion written on his face. "What?"

Rhaenyra giggled, and ruffled her little brother's hair playfully. "Aemon! I've never known you to say something so... bold!"

Aemon grumbled as his sister ruffled his hair, as if he were a little child.

Meanwhile, on the field, Lord Boremund charges forward against his opponent, the mysterious Ser Criston Cole. Despite his best efforts, Lord Boremund seemed to be no match against the Cole, as he was unseated and crashed to the ground, and not at all gently. And although no one really noticed, Princess Rhaenys was smirking behind her cup of wine.

"That Ser Criston Cole truly is impressive..." Rhaenyra mused, as everyone clapped and cheered for the knight who unseated Lord Boremund Baratheon.

Then, the drums began to bang, and banners bearing the sigil of House Targaryen were flagged down. More combatants approached, amongst them being... "Prince Daemon of House Targaryen!"

Rhaenyra and Aemon watched their uncle intently as he approached the field. "The Prince of the City will now choose his first opponent!"

Daemon observed the presented opponents with narrowed eyes, trying to decide which one of them will face him first. Eventually, he stopped in front of the knight that bore the sigil of House Hightower, and pointed his lance at him, indicating his desire to face this man as his opponent.

Viserys grinned towards Otto in amusement, while Otto could only affect an annoyed expression. The knight Daemon had chosen as his opponent was none other than Otto's son, Ser Gwayne Hightower, and Otto was absolutely certain that Daemon had selected Gwayne as his opponent as a means of spiting the Hand of the King.

"For his first opponent, Prince Daemon chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King!"

Alicent bites her lip nervously, while Rhaenyra squeezed her hand comfortingly. "Don't look so worried, I am sure Gwayne will be fine."

Alicent smiled, thankful for having her best friend's comfort.

"He might be. But Daemon did that on purpose." Aemon rolled his eyes. "Petty bastard."

"Brother!" Rhaenyra chided, although the Crown Prince could tell his sister was just barely hiding her smirk. "Mother would chastise you for such foul language."

"She isn't here." Aemon responded cheekily, inciting a playful roll of the eyes by Rhaenyra.

No one really seemed to notice the fact Lyman Beesbury bet five gold dragons on Daemon.

Before Daemon and Gwayne charged forward, the Rogue Prince look in Otto's direction, and he noticed the Hand of the King giving him a cold look. Daemon simply smirked in return, before charging forward, preparing to meet Gwayne. Their lances clashed, and were flung from their hands upon impact, and Daemon almost seemed to lose his balance. It was Otto's turn to smirk, as for a moment, it seemed that Gwayne had the momentum. But that didn't last long, for as soon as the two riders got their lances replaced, they charged forward again. However, Daemon lowered his lance, and struck the legs of Gwayne's horse. Shrieking was heard from the horse, and yelling was heard from Gwayne as he was thrown from it, landing face first into the dirt.

Alicent couldn't help but cover her mouth, gasping in shock. Rhaenyra's mouth was gaping open, whilst Otto simply looked disappointed, though inside he was seething. Aemon looked somewhat disgruntled.

Is resorting to such an underhanded attack the only way you could have won, Uncle? Aemon thought, finding what his uncle did quite distasteful.

As Daemon approached the Royal Box, Alicent and Rhaenyra went over to him.

"Nicely done, Uncle." Rhaenyra said, not seeming to notice Aemon making a snarky comment under his breath.

"Thank you, Princess." Daemon said smugly. "Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it."

Alicent simply gave Daemon a polite smile, and went to pick up a green wreath. And as she did, she looked up to notice the annoyed look on her father's face, and she could see why. Not only had Daemon had humiliated Otto by unseating his son with such tactics, but now he was adding insult to injury by prodding his daughter for her favor.

Nevertheless, Alicent placed the wreath over Daemon's lance. "Good luck, my Prince." She said politely.

As Daemon pressed on with smug condescension, no one seemed to notice the maester that had come over to whisper in Otto Hightower's ear, the way Otto grimaced after the maester had left, or the way he whispered in King Viserys' ear, or the concern on the King's face after Otto had finished whispering to him.

No one noticed this. Well... No one except Aemon.

"Aemon?" The young Prince heard the voice of his older sister call to him, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

Aemon's head snapped towards the direction of his sister's voice, and he nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am fine."

The Princess didn't seem as if she actually believed that, but for the time being, she let it slide.

112 AC, Queen Aemma's Birthing Chambers

"GAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The screeches echoed through the room as Queen Aemma tried her best to birth this child. Everyone in attendance were doing their utmost to make sure the labor was going smoothly. But this was far from smooth. No, the labor was rough, and difficult, and it was clearly taking a toll on the Queen's body.

"Aemma!" Viserys called as he entered the chambers. He turned to the Grand Maester Mellos, and angrily demanded. "What's happening?!"

Grand Maester Mellos wiped his brow. "The infant is in breech, Your Grace. All attempts to turn the babe have failed."

Viserys grimaced, and began to feel panic welling up in his throat. "W-Well, do something for her! Anything!"

Mellos could only shake his head. "We've given her as much milk of the poppy as we can without risking the child. Your Queen is a strong woman. She's fighting with all her might, but... it may not be enough."

"NO! Hrrrrrrngh! ARGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!"

May not be enough? Somehow, those words caused a sickening feeling of dread to build up in the King's stomach. He rushed over to his wife's bedside, holding on to her hand tightly. "Aemma! Aemma, I'm here!"

Despite the excruciating amount of pain she was in trying to deliver this child, the sight of her husband by her side brought her some measure of relief, and she latched onto his hand with an iron grip. "Viserys... Oh, Viserys..."

"I'm here."

"Please, please..." She begged.

"It's alright, I'm here."

"Please... Please, I don't want to do this..." This was too much. She couldn't handle this any more. She just wanted it to be done.

112 AC, Tournament Grounds

As the tournament went on, things began to get progressively more violent.

Two knights began to engage in vicious combat, one bashing the other in with an axe.

Princess Rhaenys grimaces, though the look in her eyes spoke to the fact that she had expected things to turn out like this. "And the day grows ugly..." She said, nonchalantly drinking from her cup.

Lord Corlys nodded in agreement. "I wonder if this is how we should celebrate the birth of a new prince." The Velaryon lord said dryly. "With wanton violence."

The Queen Who Never Was shook her head. "It's been 70 years since King Maegor's End. These knights are as green as the summer grass. None of have known real war." She scoffed as she watched the violence and barbarity continue. "Their lords sent them to the tourney field with fists full of steel and balls fall of seed, and we expect them to act with honor and grace. It's a marvel war didn't break out at first blood."

112 AC, Queen Aemma's Birthing Chambers

By the time Aemma had calmed down and the screams have stopped, Viserys kissed Aemma's hand and went over to Mellos to assess the situation. "During a difficult birth, it sometimes becomes necessary for the father to make... an impossible choice."

Those words fueled the feeling of dread already welling up in Viserys' stomach. "Well, speak it."

Mellos' next words were spoken with no joy, or any sort of emotion whatsoever. "To sacrifice one... or to lose them both."

Viserys' face scrunched up in anxiety. He knew. From the moment he had entered these chambers and heard his wife's blood-curdling screams... somehow, he knew this is where the situation was going to lead up to.

"There is a chance we can save the child." Mellos continued to explain. "There is a technique taught at the Citadel which involves cutting directly into the womb to free the infant. But the resulting blood loss-"

"Seven Hells, Mellos!" Viserys interrupted, his breathing already ragged from the sickening feeling coursing through his body.

How? How did it come to this? How did fate bestow upon him such a cruel choice? To save his child, at the cost of the life of his beloved wife... or to do nothing, and lose both of them.

"You can... you can save the child?" His voice croaked out.

Mellos gave the King a serious look. "We must act now... or leave it with the Gods."

112 AC, Tournament Grounds

"Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Prince Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!"

That announcement caused another roar of cheering to emerge from the crowd. Ser Criston Cole had already garnered quite a bit of attention with his impressive combat prowess, so to see him face against Daemon would be a treat to be sure.

Rhaenyra in particular seemed enthused by the action. Yet Aemon could not stop feeling distracted. The worried look on Otto and his father's face... What could it mean? Was something bad happening...?

The Rogue Prince and the Stormlander of House Cole stare each other down as they prepare to charge, neither of them having any intention of holding back.

Ser Criston lowers the visor on his helmet. And with that, the two charged forth, ready to meet each other in battle.

Daemon's lance smashed into the chestplate of Ser Criston's armor, throwing him off balance. But the knight of House Cole was quick to regain his momentum. And once he retrieved another lance, he met Daemon again, their lances colliding once more.

112 AC, Queen Aemma's Birthing Chambers

Aemma's eyes felt heavy, groggy, and she could barely feel herself staying awake, due to the strength she exerted trying to give birth to her child. She felt heavy, and she just wanted this to be over, and in her groggy vision, she could just barely make out the visage of her husband, King Viserys. "Viserys." She said softly, weakly. Her voice felt as if it was barely functioning.

Viserys kissed Aemma's hand affectionately. "It's alright, Aemma. They're going to bring the babe out now."

At those words, Aemma felt a sense of relief. At last, this painful labor would soon be over, she would have another child in hand, and she would hopefully never have to endure this again.

Viserys then gave his nod as a signal. And as he did, the maids surrounding Aemma began pulling the pillows off of the bed, allowing Mellos the space to climb onto it.

Viserys swallowed a lump in his throat, and looked at his wife with adoring, yet... sorrowful eyes. "I love you."

Aemma felt her relief turn to confusion as Viserys said those words in a tone that seemed to be filled with grief. "Viserys?" Yet before the King could say anything else, the Queen felt herself being pulled onto the middle of the bed by every limb. "What... What is happening?" She asked quietly.

"It's alright... It's alright." Viserys tried to reassure her.

But his reassurances did nothing to assuage the panic that began to rise within Aemma as she felt Mellos lifting up her gown. "No, what is happening? Viserys, what..."

"Shhh, it's alright."

"What are you doing...?!"

"They're going to bring the babe out."

"How are they...?!"

"It's alright..."

"Viserys, please...!"

"It's alright..."

"No, I'm scared...!"

"Don't be scared..."

"What is happening...?!"

"Don't be scared, they're going to bring the babe out..."

"Oh no..."

"It's alright..."

But she knew it wouldn't be. The moment she saw the handmaiden hand Mellos the scalpel, she knew it wouldn't be.

And that fear was only further cemented when Mellos said... "I am making the first incision."

And suddenly, in that moment, Aemma's voice found its power once again. "NO, NO, NO! PLEASE, NO! VISERYS, PLEASE, NOOOO!"

But no matter how much she screamed and begged, the only thing she could hear from Viserys was his reassurances that this would be alright.

And then... she felt an unbearable, searing pain in her womb. And she let out a blood-curdling screech.

112 AC, Tournament Grounds

And with one strike, Ser Criston threw Daemon off balance. As Daemon's horse charged, the Rogue Prince felt his body sliding across the barriers at the middle of the field that separated both sides, before finally reaching in the end and being flung from his horse.

Daemon, filled with rage and refusing to accept defeat so easily, yells... "Sword!"

Once he is handed his sword, he draws it from its sheath immediately, making it clear that he wishes to continue this fight in melee combat.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a contest of arms!"

Rhaenys scoffed, the Queen Who Never was rolling her eyes as she watches her cousin's display whilst drinking from her cup. "Typical. Daemon never was one to accept defeat so easily."

Lord Corlys could only nod in agreement with his wife's sentiment.

Ser Criston decides to accept Daemon's challenge, dismounting from his horse and readying his flail in preparation for the battle. Daemon pointed Dark Sister in a fierce manner at the Cole Knight, before the two engaged.

Criston swung his flail at Daemon, though the Rogue Prince managed to duck back before it hit him. Daemon pushed back, swinging punches and his sword at Ser Criston Cole with all his might, though the Stormlander managed to block most of these hits with his shield. He swung his flail again, smashing into Daemon's shield and breaking it apart. Daemon fought back, swinging his swords multiple times and overwhelming Ser Criston, eventually sending the Stormlander to the ground.

And yet, Criston eventually managed to get the upperhand when he managed to get back up. Throwing his flail again, he managed to wrap it around Dark Sister, and tried swinging Daemon around, though the Rogue Prince flung a punch into the Cole Knight's face. And yet, it was all in vain, as eventually Ser Criston Cole managed to overpower Prince Daemon Targaryen, and sent him to the ground.

But Daemon managed to overpower the Cole Knight again, throwing what remains of his broken shield and knocking him to the ground, throwing a kick into the Stormlander for good measure.

The crowd cheered at the Rogue Prince's victory, and he relished the adulation.

And yet his victory was short-lived, for he felt the force of Criston Cole's flail smash into his back, sending him to the floor again. Daemon tried to reach for Dark Sister, but Criston Cole kicked the Valyrian Steel sword away. Daemon tried to pull out a dagger, but it was no use, and Criston Cole stamped on his arm, keeping the Rogue Prince pinned down.

"Yield." Criston demanded.

Daemon, finally realizing he was outmatched and had no hope of winning, finally gave in, conceding the match to Ser Criston Cole.

Criston feels a surge of triumph at his victory. Still, he extends his hand to help the Rogue Prince to his feet. Daemon, however, still feeling incensed at his defeat, rejects Criston's courtesy and stands up, before storming off angrily.

Alicent and Rhaenyra go over to Criston Cole as he approaches the Royal Box. He removes his helmet, revealing his face in full.

"Gods. He's Dornish." Alicent remarks.

Criston speaks as he approaches Alicent and Rhaenyra. "I was hoping to ask for the Princess's favor."

Rhaenyra, impressed by the fact that Criston managed to best her uncle, decides to grant him this, and picks up another floral wreath, and tosses it down to him. "I wish you luck, Ser Criston."

"Princess." He responded simply with a bow.

Rhaenyra smiled. "I must say, it's rather impressive to see a knight who could best our uncle. Don't you think so, brother?" However, when the Princess turned around, her younger brother was no longer in his seat. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen at all. "Aemon?"

112 AC, Queen Aemma's Birthing Chambers

Viserys sat by the now dead Aemma's bedchambers, absolutely distraught. Doing this had brought him no joy, and it caused him great anguish, hearing his wife's agonizing screams of pain.

"Congratulations, Your Grace. You have a son." Said Mellos.

Viserys slowly turned his head to Mellos, his eyes barely registering any sort of emotion besides grief. "...It's a boy?" He said, almost monotonously.

"Another heir, Your Grace."

Viserys felt like he should be feeling happy. After all, he has a new son to welcome to the family.

But at what price? At what horrible, agonizing, bloody price?

Was it worth it? To watch as Mellos cut into his wife's womb in order for his son to be born?

"Had you and the Queen chosen a name?" Mellos inquired further.

Viserys felt like he could barely speak. "...Baelon." He said. The name was in honor of Viserys' own father, Prince Baelon the Brave.

And at that thought, Viserys wondered. What would his father have done?

Viserys' own mother, Princess Alyssa Targaryen, had died because she never truly recovered from the birthing of Viserys and Daemon's younger brother, Aegon Targaryen. And it mattered little in the end, since Aegon died anyway, just shy of his first nameday. Alyssa's death had shattered Baelon, and the man had never married again or even taken another lover.

What would Baelon have done?

...

"Mother?"

A soft, quite voice echoed, that froze Viserys' thoughts, his body, everything.

There in the doorway stood his son, his youngest child, Prince Aemon.

And the boy was not blind, though in that moment, Viserys wished he had been.

Seeing his mother, lifeless on that bloody bed. His mother, one of the strongest women he ever knew, gone. Dead.

"Aemon." Viserys' could only choke out his son's name as he saw the look of sheer horror on the ten year old child's face.

And that just somehow made this even worse.

Seeing his young son, there, having seen his mother like this. Seeing the tears flowing down his cheeks. Seeing him collapse on the floor, catatonic, the young boy not even responding to the maids trying to comfort him.

And in that moment, it all came crashing down on him.

He had killed his Queen. He had killed his wife. He had killed his beloved Aemma Arryn.

And nothing would ever change that fact.

Chapter Text

112 AC, Red Keep - Silent Sisters

King Viserys and his son, Prince Aemon, stare upon the body of the deceased Queen Aemma Arryn, the late Prince Baelon laying beside her wrapped up, as the Silent Sisters prepared their bodies.

Viserys stares at the bodies of his wife and son with eyes full of grief. It had all been for nothing. Baelon had been cut out of his mother's womb to save him, killing her in turn. Yet, it was not meant to be, for Baelon died after a few hours.

Viserys looked down at his young son. Seeing the way he stared at his mother and brother's corpses... It broke Viserys' heart in a way that words couldn't ever fully explain. "Aemon, I..." Viserys had to try not to choke on his own tears. "I'm so... so sorry."

Aemon didn't say anything for a few moments, and Viserys assumed that the boy was too grief-stricken to have any words to say.

But then a single word passed his lips... "Why?"

Viserys' eyes widened at the single word his son spoke. But it's not the word itself that surprised Viserys. It was the coldness, the lack of emotion in his tone.

"Why didn't you save her?"

Those words felt like daggers being stabbed directly into the King's heart. "A-Aemon..."

"She was your wife." He said coldly, flatly. "She was my mother. Mine and Rhaenyra's mother." Then, Aemon's eyes filled with grief-filled anger. "But you let that grey, sunken cunt cut into her like she was piece of meat." Aemon cursed, then turning to his father with a raging glare. "And now she's dead, Father! Dead! And for what?! What did she die for?! My brother?! My brother who only lived for a few hours?! What was even the point?!"

Viserys lips trembled at Aemon's angry, sorrowful words. His son's devastation was apparent to see, and what made it worse is that he was responsible for it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, sorry... Aemon. I'm sorry." Viserys repeated in a begging tone.

"It doesn't matter. She's gone." Aemon said despairingly. "Sorry isn't going to bring her back."

And with that, Aemon stormed off, and as soon as he was gone, Viserys could no longer hold his composure, and the King fell to his knees, sobbing.

112 AC - Aemma Arryn's Funeral

Many gathered for the funeral of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon atop Rhaenys' Hill. The Royal Family, Otto Hightower and Alicent, and many more.

A solemn, sorrowful atmosphere washed over all those present. Nearby, Aemon's dragon Silverwing, and Rhaenyra's dragon, the She-Dragon Syrax, were perched off a cliff nearby, ready to cremate the deceased at their command.

King Viserys could barely register the sight in front of him. The sight of his wife and son wrapped up and ready to be burnt into dust. That his beloved his Aemma was gone, and that he was responsible for it... the grief he felt was immeasurable and nothing could be done in this moment to take it away.

Aemon, as the King's heir, was given the responsibility of calling for his mother's cremation. Rhaenyra had protested it, saying he was too young and he shouldn't have to do it. But Aemon insisted that he could.

Daemon walked up behind his nephew, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "They're waiting for you." He gently encouraged his nephew. The Rogue Prince knew the young boy was going through so much, so whatever feelings he may have had towards him in the past, he knows that in this moment, he must be supportive.

Aemon's eyes were devoid of any sort of emotion. He didn't say any words to his uncle, he simply walked forward and prepared himself. Rhaenyra's heart ached with sorrow, for her, her brother and her father. Alicent looked on tentatively, watching as Aemon walked forward, wondering if the young Prince could actually bring himself to cremate his mother's body.

Rhaenyra, who was next to Daemon, whispered in a slightly bitter tone... "I wonder if..." Rhaenyra began in High Valyrian. "...in the few hours that our brother lived, our father felt any sort of happiness."

Daemon could hear the bitterness in his niece's voice, and tried to soothe her. "Your father needs you two now, more than he ever has before." He responded in High Valyrian.

Aemon knew what had to be done. As Silverwing awaited his command with a soft roar, the Crown Prince began to utter. "Draca..." He tried to say, but he choked at the last second. "Dra..." He tried to say again, but he felt his words being choked by his tears. No matter how hard he tried, the words just wouldn't pass his lips.

Rhaenyra, seeing that this way too much for Aemon to handle, quickly steps forward, pulls Aemon into a tight hug, and then uttered to Syrax. "Dracarys!"

Syrax roared as flames spat from her mouth, alighting the pyre of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon. Aemon looked away as his sister held him in a tender embrace, unable to watch. Yet he shed silent tears, knowing that his mother was gone, and she wouldn't be coming back.

Alicent watched the two Targaryen siblings with sorrow in her eyes. She knew all too well the pain of losing a mother, and seeing two people she cared for deeply go through the same pain tore at her heart.

112 AC - Aemon Targaryen's Bedchambers

It was evening. Aemon had spent the whole day since the funeral concluded in his room, refusing to speak to anyone or eat any food. Rhaenyra grew worried. She didn't want her brother to feel alone in this, to recuse himself from others. So she and Alicent made a visit to his chambers to support him.

As Rhaenyra raised her hand to knock on her brother's door, she felt herself breathing in and out deeply. "I don't know if I can comfort him." Rhaenyra said with an ache in her heart.

Alicent placed a supportive hand upon her best friend's shoulder. "You're his sister. He needs you, just as your father did." Alicent said empathetically, though she felt as if she shouldn't mention the fact that she visited Viserys' at Otto's behest. She felt it wouldn't help matters. "When my mother died, people only ever spoke to me in riddles. All I wanted... was for someone to say they were sorry for what happened to me." Alicent recalls the death of her mother, Lady Alyrie Florent. How much it hurt, how the only comfort she got was from the Targaryen siblings, from her brother. Otto had been grieving too, but he was never the most openly affectionate person, so he had no idea how to comfort his daughter. "All Aemon needs now is for him to know that you're there for him."

Rhaenyra swallowed, knowing Alicent was completely right. Aemon might have given off the impression that he was wise beyond his years, yet he was still a child at the end of the day. A boy of ten. This was hurting him much more than he liked to acknowledge.

Gently, Rhaenyra knocked on the door. She didn't hear anything for a few moments, but then a soft voice responded back to her... "Come in."

Rhaenyra opened the door, and she and Alicent slowly entered the room. Aemon slowly turned his head to face his sister, and their gazes met. "Sister."

"Aemon..."

The Princess could see the grief in her little brother's eyes. A sorrow he refused to openly acknowledge, a grief he tried to shun from his mind.

...

But ultimately, it was all for nothing.

The tears fell from his eyes, and he can feel the warm embrace of his sister's arms wrapping around him like a warm blanket. Aemon buried his face into his sister's chest as he sobbed, finally releasing an explosion of the pent up grief he had been feeling ever since he saw the sight of his mother lifeless on the birthing bed.

Seeing her younger brother in such a state of grief brought tears to the Princess's eyes as well, and soon enough, she felt Alicent wrapping her arms around them both.

They were all grieving together.

112 AC - Brothel

In this pleasure house on the Street of Silk, Daemon had hosted this drunken orgy with several of his subordinates in attendance. His cronies seemed to be having their pleasure, their drinks and their laughs, though Daemon really paid no mind to it as he got lost in his thoughts.

Baelon was gone. And while the Rogue Prince didn't take any pleasure in that fact, it meant that his place in the line of succession was the same as before. Heir to his brother's heir, until a son was born to him when he's older.

Mysaria, the proprietor of the brothel and one of Daemon's most trusted allies and paramour, approaches the Rogue Prince, taking his chin in her hands. "What troubles you, My Prince?"

Daemon sighed, leaning back in his chair slightly. It was clear he was a bit drunk as well. "Baelon may be gone, but Aemon is still my brother's heir." Daemon mused. "I will not ever be King."

"Maybe." She nodded. "But with less heirs comes less competition."

Daemon shrugged in agreement. Right now, he had no desire to speak anymore on this subject, so he just indulged in the entertainment he was hosting for everyone here.

Daemon proposed a toast the future. But if he had known of the repercussions his words would have, he likely would have refrained from indulging as much as he did tonight.

112 AC - Red Keep, Small Council Chamber

The next morning, a meeting of the Small Council had been convened. All members of the council gathered. Even Aemon arrived, though his eyes seemed cold, distant. And one thing Rhaenyra noticed as she poured the cups, is that Aemon's gaze was directed away from their father's. It's clear that their mother's death had taken a great toll on him.

Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, was the first to speak. "Before we begin, Your Grace, I have a report I feel compelled to share."

Viserys raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Otto coughed into his hand, knowing that there was no easy way to say this. He began... "Last night... Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the Street of Silk, to entertain officers of the City Watch and other friends of his."

That actually seemed to capture Aemon's interest, and he decided to pay more attention to the Hand's report.

Otto continued... "He toasted Prince Baelon, styling him..." Otto sighed before finishing his sentence. "'An Heir for a Day'."

Viserys' mouth gaped open, Rhaenyra looked offended, whilst Aemon froze in his seat, yet he felt his fists clenching angrily under the table.

"Are you... certain of this, Lord Hightower?" Aemon said in an icy cold voice.

Otto, slightly startled by how cold the Prince's young voice was, nodded. "I corroborated this report with three separate witnesses, My Prince. The evening was, by all accounts, a celebration."

Viserys suddenly felt an intense rage building up within him. How dare he? How dare he make such an offensive toast? "I will deal with Daemon." Viserys coldly.

Everyone on the Small Council were startled by the King's rageful display. It's rare that he got angry in front of them like this, meaning that he must be taking Daemon's insult very personally.

"I wish to be there." Aemon's voice said suddenly.

Everyone turned to Aemon, surprised by his declaration.

The one surprised by it the most was his older sister. "Aemon-"

"I wish to be there." He said more firmly. He turned to his father, a hard look in the young Prince's eyes. "I knew for years Daemon resented me because I was the reason he lost his position as heir. You tried to tell me otherwise, but I knew that was the case. This insult? It's just proof, Father. Proof that any sons you sire are just obstacles in Daemon's path to the throne. And I want to see what he has to say for himself regarding this."

Viserys was stunned. He wanted to protest, tell him that he was wrong, but in the end, Viserys knew Aemon wouldn't accept that. And truthfully, the King knew his son was right. Daemon had never been close to Aemon, and it was rather obvious that the Rogue Prince resented the child because he replaced Daemon as Viserys' heir.

In that moment, Viserys could not bring himself to refuse his son's request.

112 AC - Red Keep, Throne Room

Daemon arrived at the Throne Room as soon as he heard that his presence was demanded there immediately. When he arrived, King Viserys sat upon the throne, adorned in black clothing, wearing the crown of his grandfather, King Jaehaerys, and holding House Targaryen's ancestral sword, Blackfyre. Sat beside him was his son, Prince Aemon, sporting an attire much similar to his father's. They both had cold looks in their eyes, showing that neither father or son were in the mood for games.

Daemon, however, wasn't always able to read the room. "You cut the image of the Conqueror, brother." Daemon praised, though it was hard to tell whether it was genuine or not. "Your son too looks the ideal heir."

Aemon glared angrily at Daemon, and was about to speak, until his father gestured to let him handle this.

Viserys addressed Daemon stiffly. "Did you say it...?"

Daemon blinked. "I don't know what you mean." Daemon said, trying to feign innocence, although he had a feeling he knew what the King was talking about.

"You will address me as 'Your Grace', or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue." Viserys responded sharply, gesturing to the Knights of the Kingsguard standing before him. "'An Heir for a Day'. Did you say it...?"

Daemon's voice dropped all pretense of innocence. It seemed that this time, the King was deadly serious. "We... we must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace."

"Mourning?" Aemon responded sharply. "You call that insult to my brother and mother mourning?"

"Nephew, it was not intended-"

"No, Daemon." Viserys interrupted. "No, Aemon's right. He's always been right. I wanted to believe that there was a part of you that did care for my son, but I was wrong. He's always been an obstacle to you, hasn't he? Just someone that stood in the way of the throne you desire. Your 'toast' to Baelon is proof of that."

"That's not true." Daemon tried to insist, but the King was having none of it.

"Yes it is." Viserys shot down harshly. "My family... has just been destroyed. But instead of being by my side, or my children's..." Viserys slammed the point of Blackfyre down into the ground. "YOU CHOSE TO CELEBRATE YOUR OWN RISE!" He roared angrily, in such a frightening tone that even Aemon flinched at how angry his father was. "LAUGHING WITH YOUR WHORES AND YOUR LICKSPITTLES!"

Daemon looked down at the ground, silenced by the King's angry outburst.

"YOU HAVE NO ALLIES AT COURT BUT ME!" Viserys continued to rage. "I have only ever defended you! Yet everything I've given you, YOU'VE THROWN BACK IN MY FACE!"

Daemon finally could no longer take this lying down. "You've only ever tried to send me away!" Daemon yelled back. "To the Vale, to the City Watch! Anywhere but by YOUR side! Ten years you've been King, and not ONCE have you asked me to be your hand!"

Aemon and Viserys looked each other incredulously. "Why would he do that?!" Aemon responded.

"Because I'm his brother." He said icily. "The blood of the dragon runs thick."

Viserys almost choked at those words. "Then why do you cut me so deeply...?!"

"I've only ever spoken the truth." Daemon replied bluntly. "I see Otto Hightower for what he is."

"An unwavering and loyal hand?"

"A cunt." Daemon cursed. "A second son who stands to inherit nothing he doesn't seize for himself."

Aemon had to scoff at the hypocrisy of that statement. "But isn't that what you are, Uncle?" Aemon retorted. "A second son who stands to inherit nothing? ...And it's not a secret that you desire the throne."

Daemon was taken aback by the words passing Aemon's lips. It seemed that what the Rogue Prince had said about Baelon really angered him, because never before had his nephew spoken to him with such insolence.

"You don't understand, Aemon." Daemon tried to insist. "Otto Hightower doesn't protect your father. I would."

"From what?!" Viserys demanded angrily.

"Yourself." Daemon said simply. "You're weak... Viserys. And that council of leeches knows it. They all prey on your for their own ends."

Viserys said nothing for the moment. Daemon was wondering whether Viserys was contemplating if his brother was right. But then the King's angry look returned, and he turned to his son.

"Aemon. What should we do with him?"

Aemon blinked, turning to his father. "I'm sorry?"

"You are to be King one day, and I want you to understand the importance of making decisions. So tell me..." Viserys gestured to Daemon with a look of disgust. "What should we do with this... disgrace?"

Daemon couldn't believe what he was hearing, and he scoffed. "You're really going to put this on him? He's a child."

"My child, who will one day be King." Viserys fired back coldly. "And you said it yourself... he won't be a boy forever."

Aemon stared intensely at his uncle. How his uncle was to be punished was being left up to him. And somehow... he had the perfect way in mind.

"Send him back to Runestone. To his lady wife. He doesn't belong here anymore."

Viserys turned back to Daemon with a cold look. "You heard the Prince. You are to leave and return to Runestone, without quarrel."

Daemon almost had to scoff. Being sent to Runestone was a punishment he already experienced once. If this is all Aemon was going to do, Daemon wasn't going to complain.

The Rogue Prince turned to leave, but then Aemon's voice spoke again. "And... I want him struck from the succession."

Daemon suddenly froze in place at those words, and slowly turned back to Aemon and Viserys. "What?"

"Aemon?" Viserys looked at his son with a questioning look.

Aemon turned to his father with a hard look on his face. "If I were to pass with no heir... Daemon would be the one to succeed me, yes?" Viserys nodded, having an inkling of where his son was going with this. "Well, I don't want that. If I die with no heir... I want Rhaenyra to be the one to succeed me."

Viserys was surprised, but he wasn't as surprised Daemon, who had a horrified look on his face.

The Rogue Prince had never imagined in a thousand years that his nephew would be so... spiteful. Not to mention, he made this declaration when Daemon was under the impression that his only punishment would be an exile to Runestone.

"You can't do that." Daemon insisted angrily. "Rhaenyra's a girl. No Queen has sat the Iron Throne."

"Well, perhaps that should change." Aemon responded firmly. He turned to his father. "After his insult today... I think this is a fitting punishment. Don't you?"

Viserys could see the firm conviction in his son's eyes, and the King could feel a rush of paternal pride at his son's determination. He turns back to Daemon. "So it shall be. You will no longer be Aemon's heir. Rhaenyra will succeed him should anything unfortunate happen."

Daemon balked at the notion that his place in the line of succession was being stolen his niece. "Viserys, you can't-" Daemon tried to step forward, but he was immediately intercepted by the Kingsguard, who blocked his path.

"I won't tell you again, Daemon. You are to leave by order of your King." Viserys said with a strong finality, leaving no more room for argument.

Daemon realized that there was no way for him to win here. He shot Aemon a resentful glare, before bowing before Viserys. "Your Grace." He said begrudgingly, before storming out of the throne room.

Viserys sighed, and leaned back on the throne, only to feel a sharp sting on his fingers. "Ack!"

Aemon turned to his father, concern in his eyes. "Father?"

Viserys tried to assuage his son's worries. "I just cut my finger on the throne, Aemon. It's nothing for you to worry about."

That was what he said. But if only he knew how bad it would get...

Daemon was gone, and he left with his position in the succession even further behind than before.

Aemon was left wondering if he did the right thing. In the moment, it had felt good to punish his uncle for his insolent, insulting remarks.

But deep in the back of the Crown Prince's eyes, he knew his uncle would never forget what happened here today.

Chapter Text

Red Keep - Small Council Chambers

Having it been sometime since Queen Aemma's passing, quite a lot has happened.

One such event in particular was the passing of Ser Ryam Redwyne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Hailing from House Redwyne, the old knight was of legendary reputation. He had served King Viserys well, as he had served the Old King Jaehaerys before him. "Ser Ryam was a strong Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." Viserys said, whilst Rhaenyra poured him a cup of wine. "But he was ill for some time. I suppose this was inevitable."

Aemon, now a boy of 11, turned to Mellos. "He passed in peace, I hope."

Mellos nodded at the young Prince. "Yes, My Prince. He was found to have passed gently in his sleep."

A shame Mother could not be granted that same courtesy. Aemon thought bitterly, though the sentiment was fleeting and soon gone. He had been angry about the manner in which his mother died, and showed a great deal of antipathy toward his father and Mellos for quite some time. Though Aemon eventually found it in himself to forgive his father eventually, as deep down, he knew the choice had been impossible. Try and save his brother and let his mother die, or do nothing and lose them both. It was a choice that no man should ever have to make, and one that would have devastating consequences regardless of which option was taken.

Though despite being able to forgive his father, Aemon was not quite able to forget that Mellos put that choice into the King's hands. Still, he was able to remain polite, at least for the sake of the Small Council.

"Ser Ryam's remains are being prepared by the Silent Sisters." Mellos continued. "The succeeding Lord Commander, Ser Harrold, would like to make haste in finding Ser Ryam's replacement in the Kingsguard."

Ser Harrold, now the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, nodded in agreement. "Your Grace, My Lords, the Kingsguard must be restored to its full complement of seven. With the help of the Hand, I've invited a number of fine candidates to court. All have passed fair trials."

The Small Council seemed to be satisfied with that, but in that exact moment, Lord Corlys Velaryon stormed into the Small Council Chambers. And he was angered, if the look on his face was any indication. Aemon had an inkling of why.

"Four ships have now been lost." Corlys snapped as he approached the table. "The last one was flying my banner. The Stepstones have now grown into a conflagration, yet you sit here and dither about court business!"

Everyone was shocked by Corlys' tone towards them. Otto Hightower looked especially galled. "If you've something to discuss Lord Corlys-"

"I want to know what is to be done about my ships, and my men." Corlys said sharply, interrupting the Hand of the King.

Otto only seemed to get further annoyed. "The Crown will compensate you for your ship and crew and make an offering to the men's family."

Aemon had to roll his eyes at that suggestion, mainly because he's the only one who seemed to understand that Lord Corlys wouldn't accept that.

"I don't want compensation." Corlys barked. "I want to seize the Stepstones by force and burn out this Crabfeeder."

King Viserys pinched his nose in exasperation. He could understand, and even admire Lord Corlys' determination, but... "I am not prepared to start a war with the Free Cities."

"These pirates are not the Free Cities." Corlys retorted.

Viserys scoffed at that remark. "Who do you think provides them with their ship and tender?"

Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin, nodded in agreement, backing up Viserys' statement. "In all of its history, My Lord, the Seven Kingdoms have never entered open war with the Free Cities. Were that to happen, the losses would be incalculable."

Corlys could not help but grow increasingly agitated at the Council's seemingly dismissive attitude towards the situation in the Stepstones. He approached the Master of Coin with a hard look on his face. "What reason does the Crabfeeder have to fear us?"

Otto gave the Lord of the Tides a look of warning. "I would watch your words, Lord Corlys."

"But he is not incorrect, is he?" Aemon said with sarcasm coloring his words. "My uncle seized Dragonstone and fortified it with an army of his Gold Cloaks. He's been squatting there for half a year, and what has anyone done to stop him? Nothing."

Even now, it still surprised the Council when Aemon spoke like that. The young Prince had shown some stubborn traits before, but in the wake of his mother's death, those traits seemed to have gotten stronger. The only one who was not surprised by it anymore was King Viserys and Princess Rhaenyra. Physically, Aemon looked like Viserys, but he also had quite a bit of Aemma's personality in him as well.

"I do see your point Aemon..." Viserys said, though Corlys continued before the King could continue.

"And so you should." Corlys said impatiently. "It would seem the young Prince is the only one here who seems to understand the gravity of the situation."

"I have already cautioned you once, Lord Corlys." Otto replied, the sharp, stern look of warning on his face growing in intensity. "A seat at the King's table does not make you his equal."

The Velaryon Lord seemed affronted by that remark, and the King could tell as much, so he sought to calm the tensions. "I have acted, Corlys." Viserys responded, trying to reassure the Lord of the Tides. "I've sent envoys to Pentos and Volantis to see if we might find common cause. Ships and men are at the ready. The Stepstones will be settled in time."

Rhaenyra, feeling as if she couldn't hold her tongue anymore, decided to interject with her own opinion. "You have dragonriders, Father." She said. "Send us."

Aemon nodded in agreement with his sister's proposal. "She's right. With the dragons' combined strength, we could easily overpower this Crabfeeder."

Viserys sighed, and shook his head, though he gave his daughter an appreciative smile. "While it sounds like a lovely suggestion, Rhaenyra, I am afraid it isn't that simple."

Rhaenyra could not help but let out a scoff. "And why not? It would be a show of force."

The Princess's suggestion at the very least met Corlys Velaryon's approval. "At least the Princess has a plan."

Rhaenyra nodded. "I only meant that we should at least-"

"Perhaps," Otto interrupted Rhaenyra before she could finish. "There's some better use for the Princess talents', Your Grace."

That remark seemed to irk the Crown Prince. "Better use?" He turned to Otto, pinning him with a sharp glare. "Are you suggesting my sister is wasted here? Is that it?"

Otto got nervous at that. Aemon seemed so different from how he used to be, the Hand of the King didn't quite know how to handle the Prince's defiant attitude.

Viserys, in an attempt to defuse the situation, spoke up... "Now, now, son, there is no need for that." Viserys chided gently. "Why don't you and your sister accompany Ser Harrold to see about that new Kingsguard posting?"

Aemon felt a wave of annoyance starting to bubble. He knew what this was, his father trying to get him and Rhaenyra out of the way to appease the Council. Or more specifically, Otto Hightower. "And why should we do that?"

"Well, this Knight will protect you as well." Viserys explained. "Would you not feel more comfortable if you got to choose a protector you deemed capable?"

Aemon wanted to protest further, but he felt Rhaenyra placing her hands on his shoulders in a comforting gesture. "Come on, there's no point. Let's just do what he says."

Despite his reluctance to acquiesce, the Prince knew that his sister was right. Protesting was pointless, since his father would just override him anyway. Without saying a single word, Aemon stood up and followed Ser Harrold Westerling and his sister out of the Small Council Chambers.

Red Keep - Maegor's Holdfast

Standing on stools meant for them to observe the ring of candidates, Rhaenyra and Aemon looked over the knights that had come forward. "There's quite a few, isn't there?" Rhaenyra remarked.

Aemon nodded in agreement. Different knights, from different houses, different lands... and with different experiences in combat.

"Ser Desmond Caron." Ser Harrold said, referring to a Knight dressed in garb that bore the sigil of House Caron, eight black nightingales on yellow. House Caron of Nightsong was a vassal house to House Baratheon of Storm's End, and their lands were in the Dornish Marches. "Son of Ser Royce Caron, Ser Desmond has proven strong and steady, in both the tourney lists and without. While traveling in the Kingswood on his way to King's Landing, Ser Desmond recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."

The Prince and Princess observed the Knight of House Caron. Neither of them looked particularly impressed by the Stormlander, though Otto Hightower, who had come in during the time Ser Harrold was introducing Ser Desmond, whispered to them... "You might thank him for his leal service."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, feeling annoyed by Otto telling her how to handle this, but she nonetheless said in a polite tone... "We thank you for your loyal service to the crown, Ser." ...though her expression was disinterested and bored.

The next Knight to be brought forth was Ser Rymun Mallister, son of Lord Lymund Mallister, the Lord of Seagard. Their house is a vassal of House Tully of Riverrun. Ser Harrold went on to describe how Ser Rymun was the winner of the melee at Cider Hall, being the last mounted of three-and-twenty knights. But as Ser Harrold continued to describe these candidates, both the Prince and Princess continued to remain unimpressed. From where they were standing, it seemed most of these knights combat 'experience' was either capturing poachers or fighting in tournaments.

"Have any of these knights seen any actual combat?" Aemon asked the Lord Commander in an impatient tone.

Lord Commander Harrold paused for a moment, before nodding. He then summoned forth a familiar face. "Ser Criston Cole." Ser Harrold. "Son of the Steward of the Lord of Blackhaven."

And there approached Ser Criston Cole, the Stormlander of Dornish descent who had bested The Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen. Otto seemed less than impressed, mainly because while there was no question about the fact that Ser Criston was an impressive warrior, he hailed from a house of commonborn stewards.

Rhaenyra, however, smiled, and Aemon finally looked as if he found a candidate he approved of. He recalled the Heir's Tournament, how Ser Criston had not only managed to unseat that Knight of House Tarly and the Baratheon men, he had also managed to defeat his uncle as well. That was enough for this knight to leave an impression on the young Prince, despite his commonborn origins.

"Be welcome, Ser Criston." Rhaenyra said gently to the Stormlander. He gave the Princess a polite nod in response, making sure to display some humility in front of the Royal Children. That seemed to impress Rhaenyra and Aemon even more. "You saw combat in the Stormlands?"

"Dornish marches, Princess." Ser Criston replied. "I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish Incursions."

Aemon seemed intrigued. "I see. Were you knighted around this time?"

Criston nodded in affirmation. "Yes, My Prince. I was knighted by Ser Arlan Dondarrion after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway."

Rhaenyra looked at her younger brother, who then nodded at her, affirming that they've both come to the same conclusion on who to appoint to the Kingsguard. Rhaenyra turns to Ser Harrold and says, without a single moment of hesitation... "We choose Ser Criston Cole."

Otto gawked at that decision, and tried to stop the Royal children before they walked away. "My Prince, Princess, I would urge you not to be too hasty." He insisted. "There's no doubt Ser Criston is a fine warrior, but houses such as Crakehall and Mallister are important allies of the Crown. Seagard, for instance, is the realm's prime defense against reavers from the Iron Islands."

Aemon gave the Hand of the King a look that spoke to the fact that the young Prince did not care much for what he had to say. "I was under the impression we were choosing a new member of the Kingsguard, not recruiting a new political ally."

"I understand, My Prince, but I really think-"

"You heard my brother, Ser Otto." Rhaenyra interrupted. "Our father should be defended by someone who knows real combat. Not tourney knights who have never been within a mile of a real battle."

Otto sighed, and decided to relent, knowing there was no point in arguing with the Royal Children when they get stubborn like this. "Yes, of course."

And so the matter was decided.

Chapter Text

112 AC, The Grand Sept

Alicent Hightower's mind wondered whilst she walked with her friend in the Grand Sept. She had met with Rhaenyra after another one of her meetings with the King, and that meeting had still lingered in her mind. The King had no idea had to navigate with his children in the wake of their mother's death. Although Viserys saw Aemon at the Small Council, Rhaenyra doesn't say much more than a few words to him these days. He finds it difficult to approach her, it seems. In his own words, he'd rather face Balerion the Black Dread than his own daughter of fifteen. Alicent had to admit, that remark had elicited a giggle, and she'd advised Viserys to make an attempt to reach out to his children.

As the Hightower lady walked with her friend, she felt a slight feeling of guilt creeping up her neck. She hadn't mentioned her talks with Viserys to her best friend, for fear of how the Princess would react if she knew.

Alicent was broken away from her thoughts by the sound of Rhaenyra's voice. "It's been only half a year since my mother died, and already they're trying to marry my father off and replace her."

Alicent tried to reassure her friend. "They aren't trying to replace her, Rhaenyra. But the realm needs a queen."

"That's just a polite way of saying that they need to replace my mother." Rhaenyra scoffed. "I know those men and how they plot in their secret councils when I've been sent away, or when Aemon is not around to hear them."

Alicent sighed. She understood her friend's frustration, but she also knew that it wasn't their place to fret about these matters either. "You cannot worry at the matters of lords and kings, Rhaenyra."

"I know that." Rhaenyra sighed. "It's Aemon I'm worried about. He wants me to be his heir in case he were to die without a line of his own."

"Because you're his sister, Rhaenyra. He loves you." Alicent told her best friend, and Rhaenyra couldn't deny that was true. Aemon and Rhaenyra had been very close since childhood, and the Princess has always been fiercely protective of her younger brother.

But still... "Maybe he does. But he didn't choose me, he spurned Daemon. Spited him, in fact."

Alicent looked at Rhaenyra with a sympathetic look. She wanted to once again deny that was true, that Aemon had made his decision because of her. But part of Alicent knew that Aemon's decision came from a desire to spite Daemon, to punish him for the insult against his deceased brother, Prince Baelon Targaryen.

Alicent decided to try and distract Rhaenyra from these subjects. The Hightower lady took a small stick, lighting a flame on the candle before blowing it out. She then clasped her hands together. "Kneel with me."

Rhaenyra was slightly startled at Alicent's request at first, but when her best friend offered her an encouraging smile, Rhaenyra decided to oblige and join her. The two stood in front of the circle of candles, clasping their hands together.

"I find this is a way to be with my mother." Alicent explained. "Here in the quiet of the Sept. I feel close to her." As soon as Alicent had finished that sentence, she gave the Princess a sheepish smile. "I know it sounds foolish."

Rhaenyra couldn't help but crack a smile of her own. "I don't think it sounds foolish."

Alicent appreciated her friend's lack of judgement. "Good." She then handed Rhaenyra a candle. "Because I thought you might try."

Rhaenyra blinked. "I...?"

"If not for me, perhaps for them." Alicent insisted.

Rhaenyra hesitated for a moment. She knew this might have worked for Alicent, but she wasn't entirely sure if this would work for her. Still, there was no harm in trying it, is there? With that thought in mind, Rhaenyra took a candle, and slowly lightened it. She stared at the bright flame for a few moments, hoping that maybe in the light of it, she would be able to see her mother's visage. And then... she blew the candle out. Clasping her hands together again, Rhaenyra asked... "What do I... say?"

Alicent smiled. "Whatever you wish. It's only for you and the gods to know."

Rhaenyra contemplated on that. There were so many things she wished she could have said to her mother before she died. But she had been so cruelly deprived of the chance. It's not fair, she had thought bitterly. She could feel the tears welling up as she buried her face in her hands, with Alicent taking notice and offering the Princess her comfort and support, squeezing her arm gently. "I just want my father and brother to understand me. To be seen as more than... the big sister, or my father's little girl."

Alicent looked at Rhaenyra with empathy. "Mine own father does not understand the language of girls, either." Alicent said, which elicited a chortle from the other girl. "When I wish to talk with him... I know I must make the effort."

Rhaenyra smiled gratefully, placing her hand on Alicent's. "Thank you."

Even when her father wouldn't really talk to her, even when her brother acted distant with her... Rhaenyra knew she could always rely on Alicent to be her pillar.

112 AC, Red Keep Gardens

It was the afternoon, and King Viserys was walking with his son, Prince Aemon, in the Gardens of the Red Keep. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon had requested an audience with him, though they have yet to arrive, hence Viserys deciding to have a small walk with his son. "I heard you have made your selection for the new Kingsguard posting." Viserys remarked. "Ser Criston Cole, was it?"

"Yes, Father." Aemon responded simply. "His display at the Heir's Tournament proved him to have impressive martial prowess. And his experience as a foot-soldier also demonstrates that he's a fearsome warrior. He received his Knighthood after razing two watchtowers."

"Ser Criston is no doubt a warrior of immense skill." Viserys agreed with his son.

"...But?" Aemon inquired, as if he was sensing that his father intended to go somewhere with this.

"No, no, I agree with your choice." The King said with reassurance. "Just that Otto might have mentioned to me that he believed a more politically advantageous candidate might have been more beneficial."

Aemon had to put in a fair bit of effort not to roll his eyes. Of course, Otto Hightower didn't have the bravery to voice his protests to the Prince's face, so he resorted to complaining to his father about it behind his back. "Yes, well, neither me or Rhaenyra believe a tourney knight is capable of preventing an assassin from cutting your throat in your sleep." He said in a sharp tone, perhaps a bit more sharply than he had intended.

Viserys was slightly surprised at his son's forceful demeanor, but in truth, it was something to be expected. The King knew that his son was not particularly fond of the Hand of the King, and to hear Otto doing what could be perceived as undermining must have irked him. Ironically, it is something he has in common with his uncle, The Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen. "I understand your choice." The King said simply, not wanting to continue on this topic any further. "In truth, my boy, I have wanted to have a frank conversation with you and your sister for quite some time. I know we haven't spoke much since... well, it is a regret of mine, and one I wish to rectify."

Viserys' hopes were lifted when he saw Aemon give him a small smile. These days, it is not often that the Crown Prince smiled, so to see him do so, however small it may be, is a warming sight. "I would like that."

Just then, the King noticed that Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and Lord Corlys Velaryon were approaching, so he said to his son... "Leave us."

Aemon nodded, and whilst giving a respectful bow to the approaching Princess and Lord, left the area.

Viserys turned to the approaching couple. "Lord Corlys. Princess Rhaenys."

Corlys nodded respectfully. "Your Grace."

"I'm glad we could meet." Viserys said in a diplomatic tone. "I know tempers ran hot today, and I wanted to assure you how much I value the bond between our houses. Rhaenys is my favorite cousin, after all."

Rhaenys seemed flattered at the compliment, and Corlys at least seemed appreciative of the King's attempts to apologize for how things went at the council.

"I wish to apologize for the tenor at the Small Council today, Your Grace." Said the Velaryon Lord, also wanting to extend an olive branch to the King. "It was not my intent to make offense."

Viserys nodded at this. Despite the angry display that Corlys had demonstrated at the council, the King could acknowledge it was only as a result of a firm belief that he believed he was speaking on the best interests of the realm. "Your fleet is one of the realm's most important assets, Lord Corlys." The King said. "But you must understand, as King, it is my obligation to avoid war until such time it is unavoidable."

"None among us desire open war." Corlys conceded. "But might I speak plainly, Your Grace?"

Viserys nodded. "I always welcomed the unfettered thoughts of my council."

"I fear the eyes of our enemies are fixed firmly on the Red Keep." Corlys explained. "The Queen has passed. And your son's decision to name his sister his heir if anything were to happen to him has raised quite a few eyebrows, considering she would be the first in history. The King's brother has sat himself on the Targaryen seat of Dragonstone in retaliation, without challenge. And now, a foreign power has established a colony in our most critical shipping lane."

"You paint such an aspirant portrait of my reign, Lord Corlys." Viserys said, seeming somewhat amused at Corlys's frank description of the situation.

"But it is an honest one, cousin." Rhaenys stated bluntly. "At the moment, The Crown is perceived as being vulnerable."

"And a blind incursion in the Stepstones is the only way to prove that we are not?"

"To elude a storm, you can either sail into it, or around it. But you must never await its coming." Spoke the Velaryon Lord.

Viserys had to admit that his cousin and her husband spoke the truth. Whispers had been going around the Red Keep about Daemon being disinherited, and what's more, the fact that Aemon had chosen to name Rhaenyra his heir in place of The Rogue Prince had also sparked more whispering amongst the court. The fact that Daemon had seized Dragonstone and has done so unopposed didn't help matters. "Do you have a specific course of action to propose, My Lord?"

Corlys and Rhaenys exchanged a glance for a brief moment, before the Velaryon lord told the King... "Join our families." Lord Corlys could tell the King looked flummoxed by the suggestion. "Wed our daughter, Laena. Unite the two surviving Valyrian houses. With the Targaryen dragons and the Velaryon fleet bound in blood, you can show the realm that the The Crown's strongest days are ahead, not behind."

Viserys looked visibly uncomfortable at the suggestion. Not only was he in no mood to remarry, but even if he was, the idea of wedding Corlys's daughter didn't sit right with him. After all, to his understanding, the girl was only a mere twelve years old. "I must admit, I haven't given marriage much thought. It hasn't even been half a year since Aemma passed."

Although Rhaenys seemed to sympathize with the King, the next words she spoke held a tone of pragmatism. "The realm expects you to take a new wife sooner or late, Your Grace. To strengthen your line and produce more heirs. You could not ask for a stronger match than Laena."

Viserys tried to hide how much he seemed to be against this idea. "A strong match, but young." He said. "She's only a year older than Aemon. Do you think those two would not make a better match?"

"Perhaps, Your Grace, but the Prince is not King, you are. And you are in dire need of heirs." Corlys said with a firm tone.

Viserys found himself grimacing. He could hear the ambition in Corlys' voice, and he knows exactly why he wants Laena to wed him instead of Aemon. It's true, Laena marrying Aemon means that she would be queen one day, but that would only be after Viserys' death, and the Velaryon lord clearly did not have the patience to wait that long, so he sought out Viserys as a more direct means of Laena becoming the queen, whilst also giving Viserys a strong match.

Yet, the King found himself conflicted. To marry a girl so young, a girl younger than her own daughter and barely older than her son... It did not sit right with him. Viserys could refuse the match, but he knew that would only further upset the Velaryon lord, and truth be told, the King did not know how much patience he had left.

What was he to do?

Chapter Text

Red Keep - Dining Room

Viserys felt a sense of awkwardness as he dines with his two children. Truthfully, it's been some time since they've had a quiet dinner alone like this, but he decided to take Alicent's advice in being the one to reach out to his children. "I know we haven't spoken much since your mother's passing." Viserys began. "And like I said before, I wish to rectify that mistake. We should be free to speak to our minds to one another."

Aemon seemed to appreciate his father's attempt to reach out to them. "Yes, I agree."

Rhaenyra also nodded in agreement. "You can say whatever you like, Father. You are the King."

Viserys gave his daughter a smile, though it was brief, as he wasn't entirely sure how to broach this next conversation. Still, he knew that his children would discover this inevitably, so he might as well get it out of the way. "I loved your mother very much." Viserys said, almost choking on those words.

Aemon nodded solemnly. "We did too."

Viserys wanted to tell them about the marriage proposal that Corlys Velaryon had suggested to him, but speaking of Aemma with his children caused the words to die in his throat. Now was not the right time, he thought, so the King simply ended the conversation there and they resumed their meal in silence.

The King felt a slight bit of discomfort on the little finger on his left hand. The rot had set in, and Viserys grimaced at the sight, though he tried not to let it show on his face. He would be seeing the Grand Maester later in his chambers to have it treated, and he could only hope that whatever treatment Mellos had in mind for him could save the finger.

Red Keep Gardens

The next day, the King and the Lady Laena Velaryon were taking a walk in the gardens. The older man's discomfort was plain to see in his body language. Aemon watched from the balcony as his father and the young Velaryon girl walked in the gardens. I can understand why he didn't want to talk about this last night. The young Targaryen boy had thought. He did not envy his father's position at all. Laena Velaryon was barely older than he was, and the idea that his father might marry her made him feel rather uneasy.

"You don't approve." Said an older, deeper voice. Aemon had turned, to be greeted by the sight of his first-cousin-once-removed, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.

"I would think it would bother you." Aemon responded with a level tone. "Laena is your daughter."

Rhaenys nodded in agreement. No mother would truly ever be comfortable with their only daughter being married off to a man old enough to be her father. But still... "Of course it bothers me. But I understand the order of things." She gave her cousin a serious look. "Do you?"

Aemon felt as if he was being tested here, yet despite that, he managed to remain composed. "My father is a King. I understand that he must take a new wife to have more heirs and further his line."

"Good." She nodded in approval. "So you understand that one of those heirs may be a son. And if you were to perish with no heir of your own... the men of this realm will expect him to succeed you, not your sister."

Aemon felt a slight rush of discomfort. He knew that the Princess was referring to his decision to name Rhaenyra his heir should his own line go extinct. It was considered a controversial decision, since no woman had sat the Iron Throne in all the history of the Targaryen dynasty. "Well, it doesn't matter what they expect. I did not make Rhaenyra my heir for the sake of it. I intend to stay true to my choice."

Rhaenys gave the Prince a smile that was a mix between pity and admiration. "Your tenacity is impressive, but... ultimately the result of youthful inexperience. But you will learn as you grow."

Aemon raised an eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

Rhaenys stood up from her seat and walked over to the balcony. "Let me speak to you as someone with experience on this subject." She told him. "The Lords of Westeros would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman sat on the Iron Throne."

As much as Aemon didn't want to admit it, he felt as if his cousin had a point. He remembered when his father had initially announced to the council that Rhaenyra would serve as Aemon's heir in the event that his own line were extinguished. It had elicited mixed reactions, with Lord Strong being the first to protest that a woman had never once sat the throne. Otto had agreed with Aemon's decision, although his support had stemmed more from the belief that Daemon's impulsive and violent nature would make him a second Maegor should he be King.

The only response Aemon had to that was... "Well, let us hope it does not come to that."

Meanwhile, things remained awkward between the King and his prospective young bride. ...Bride. The thought of even calling this child that made something turn in Viserys' stomach.

Sensing the awkwardness in the atmosphere, the young Velaryon lady tried to relax it by discussing a subject that she thought the two of them could relate to. "What was it like flying The Black Dread? You were Balerion's last rider."

"Only for a short time, before he died." Viserys nodded. "With Balerion died the last memory of Valyria of Old."

"But Vhagar still lives." Laena pointed out. "Somewhere. A bit too large for the Dragonpit."

Viserys chuckled wryly. "Some would say too large for this world."

Laena looked up the King curiously. "Do you know where she nests?"

Viserys raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you know where Vhagar is now?" She clarified.

Viserys scratched the back of his head, not entirely sure how to give a definitive answer to her question. "Uh, the Dragonkeepers believe she made home somewhere on the coast of the Narrow Sea."

Laena nodded. "The workers at Spicetown report hearing her song at times. They say it is a sad thing."

Viserys sighed. "I imagine even dragons get lonely."

The conversation went silent, as Viserys didn't know what else to say. The King appreciated the young Velaryon girl's attempt to ease the awkwardness, but the subject she broached displayed such youthful curiosity, that it only served to remind Viserys just how young this girl was. Just barely older than her son.

"Your Grace." Laena said in a serious tone, causing the King to pause and turn around to face the girl. "It would be a great honor to join our houses as they were in Old Valyria. I would give you many children of pure Valyrian blood, so that we might strengthen the royal line and the realm."

Under normal circumstances, Viserys might have been flattered by such words. But he couldn't bring himself to do so, because while those words were passing through Laena's lips, the one who put those words there could only have been Lord Corlys. "Is that what your father told you to say?"

Laena didn't answer his question, she merely looked away. But the King didn't need a verbal confirmation, the Velaryon girl's expression told him all he needed to know.

The King sighed wearily, and then asked... "What did your mother tell you?"

Laena grimaced as she looked up at Viserys. "That I wouldn't have to bed you until I turned fourteen."

The image that those words put in his mind disgusted the King to no end. He already hated the idea of getting married again. In his mind, no one could ever replace his precious Aemma. But to get remarried to a girl younger than his own daughter? That was an idea he detested even more.

But he knew he could not dawdle when it came to finding a wife. The realm expects a new queen from him, expecting more heirs.

What was the King to do, but to accept the choice that was brought before him?

Chapter Text

Red Keep - Small Council Chambers

Viserys enters the Small Council Chambers, having to cut short his private dinner with Alicent. It was a shame as well, considering he had been enjoying her company, particularly grateful for the gift of a repaired model of a dragon for his miniature of Valyria. However, Otto had informed him that an emergency meeting of the Small Council had been called, so it must have been something of grave importance that demanded his immediate attention.

When all members of the council were present, including Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aemon, the Dragonkeeper spoke, and what he had to say did not please the King whatsoever. "It occurred in the blackness of night, My Lords, during the hour of the bat." The Dragonkeeper began, speaking in the Valyrian tongue. "The thief eluded our pursuit."

Yes, the King was most certainly not pleased at this development. Responding in the same Valyrian tongue, the King responded to the Dragonkeeper... "How is it that a dragon's egg was stolen out from beneath more than fifty Dragonkeepers?"

The next thing to be uttered from the Keeper's mouth filled Viserys with anger. "It was Prince Daemon who was the culprit, Your Grace."

"Daemon." Viserys said with one simple word, though it was so cold that everyone in the room could practically feel the King's seething anger.

"The Prince left a missive, which I believe might explain." Otto Hightower coughed, before gesturing to the Grand Maester, who proceeded to unroll said missive and read it aloud.

"'It is the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, to announce that he is to take a second wife in the tradition of Old Valyria.'"

Viserys balked at that. It is true that the Doctrine of Exceptionalism did allow for the Targaryens to continue practicing the tradition of incestuous marriages, but that did not extend to bigamous marriages. Already, Viserys felt himself being incensed by his brother's insolence, although he made sure not to let it show on his face. Aemon, for his part, just had a dull look on his face, a look shared by his sister, as if they could not fathom what their uncle was trying to accomplish with this.

The Grand Maester continued. "'My second wife is to assume the title of Lady Mysaria of Dragonstone. Her Grace is with child and is to have a dragon's egg placed in the babe's cradle in the custom of the House Targaryen."

Aemon scoffed. In the custom of House Targaryen? His uncle simply had to be joking.

"The Prince has invited you to his wedding, Your Grace. It is in two days time."

Lyman Beesbury cringed at Daemon's insolent act. "Gods be good." He muttered as he drank from his wine cup.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, however, had a curious look on his face. "Who is Lady Mysaria?"

The Grand Maester hesitated before answering his question. "We believe-"

"Daemon's whore." Otto stated bluntly, not beating around the bush and simply getting straight to the point. "This is nothing less than sedition."

"Daemon wishes to provoke you, Father. He wants your attention." Aemon told his father in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

The King agreed with his son's assessment. "Yes, and to answer is to give him just that."

Lord Corlys didn't agree with that. "The realm is watching, Your Grace."

Viserys scoffed. "What would you have me do? Send him to the wall? Perhaps I could put his head on a spike."

"You can't just do nothing." Aemon retorted.

The Hand of the King nodded in agreement. "The Prince speaks true, Your Grace." Otto said. "Daemon has seized Dragonstone, has surrounded himself with an army of gold cloaks, and has now stolen a dangerous weapon."

Rhaenyra, however, had a certain question on her mind, ever since she'd heard that Daemon had stolen an egg. "Which one was it?" She said in High Valyrian, causing all members of the Council to turn in her direction. "Which egg did Daemon take?"

The Dragonkeeper hesitated before answering Rhaenyra's question, as he knew the answer would spark outrage. "The egg was Dreamfyre's, Princess."

Dreamfyre. The egg that had originally been intended for the late Prince Baelon Targaryen, whom Daemon once styled 'An Heir For A Day'.

Viserys felt rage well up within him as he heard that. He remembered the day before The Heir's Tournament, the day before he lost his beloved Queen, Aemma Arryn. He'd visited her in her bath, the only place she found comfort in during her pregnancy. He remembered how Aemma had told him that Rhaenyra had been expecting a sister, how she'd desired to name her Visenya. The egg that was chosen was the one that reminded Rhaenyra of Vhagar. Dreamfyre's egg.

Daemon had already insulted Baelon with that shameful toast giving the King's late son that offensive style, but this? Stealing the egg that had been intended for said son? No. This time, Daemon had gone too far. "Assemble a detachment, Otto." Viserys said with a cold fury in his voice. He stood up to march towards the exit of the Small Council Chambers. "I will go to Dragonstone and drag Daemon back to face justice myself."

"I'm coming as well." Aemon said in a cold yet angry tone. He'd also been deeply affected by the deaths of his mother and brother, so to hear of Daemon's treacherous actions served to make him just as angry as his father.

"Your Grace. My Prince." Otto called them back. "Apologies, but I cannot allow that. It's too dangerous."

"I'm not just going to stand back and take this insult!" Aemon barked angrily.

Otto gave the Crown Prince a sympathetic look, understanding his desire to accost Daemon, but the Hand of the King knew that he couldn't let that happen. "I understand your rage, My Prince, but Daemon is without limit. Allowing you to go would put the Kingdom's heir at risk."

"But-"

"He's right, Aemon." Viserys agreed with Otto. "And you are too angry at the moment. And let us not forget Daemon has resented you for years. If tempers flare, I'm not sure it will end well."

Aemon grumbled begrudgingly, whilst Otto nodded in approval. "Let me go to Dragonstone."

Viserys thought for a moment before nodding at his Hand. "Then it shall be so."

Aemon still felt very sore about being told to stay behind, and Rhaenyra sympathized with him in that respect, so she rubbed his arm to soothe him. She, too, wanted to go to Dragonstone and confront Daemon for his heinous actions, but she knew if she asked, she'd be immediately shot down.

...

Which is why she wouldn't ask.

Dragonstone

With the detachment that he assembled at the King's command, consisting of Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold Westerling, and twenty household guard, Otto Hightower marched forward on the bridge leading to Dragonstone castle. Within moments of their arrival there, they are intercepted by Daemon and his army of gold cloaks, with the aforementioned 'Lady Mysaria' by his side. Daemon looked pleased with himself, and Otto knew exactly why. Aemon was right when he deduced that Daemon had done this to get attention. And he was pleased that, to some degree, his ploy had worked.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, Otto." The Rogue Prince said with a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

Otto fixed Daemon with a steely glare. "Your occupation of this island is at an end." Otto declared firmly. "You're to relinquish the dragon's egg, disband your army, banish your whore..." He said, giving 'Lady' Mysaria a pointed glance. "...and leave Dragonstone by order of His Grace, King Viserys-"

"Where is the King?" Daemon interrupted. "I had hoped for him and his heir to be here, but I don't see either of them."

Otto scoffed at Daemon's insolence. "Neither His Grace nor the Prince would ever lower themselves to entertain this mummer's farce."

Daemon seemed slightly disappointed at this, but then his eyes fell on Ser Criston Cole. The Rogue Prince remembered him well, the Knight who had bested him during The Heir's Tournament. Suffice it to say, Daemon still felt a bit sore in regards to his defeat on that day. "Ser Crispin, wasn't it?" Daemon said in an attempt to mock the Cole Knight.

Ser Criston, however, remained calm and composed. "Ser Criston Cole, My Prince."

"Ah, yes, apologies, I couldn't recall." Daemon replied dismissively, still attempting to get on the Stormlander's nerves.

Ser Criston, however, had a firm retort of his own. "Perhaps My Prince recalls when I knocked him off his horse."

Daemon felt slightly incensed by the reminder of his failure, yet despite this, he couldn't help but have a begrudging respect for Ser Criston and his boldness. He chuckled. "Very good."

Otto scoffed. "This is a truly pathetic show, Daemon." Otto said sternly. "Are you so desperate for the King's attention that you've resorted to skulking about like a common cutpurse?"

Daemon, however, merely shrugged, as if he believed that he was in the right in this situation. "I'm simply keeping with the traditions of my house, the same as my brother did for his heirs."

Otto looked disgusted at Daemon's words. "Those traditions are for the trueborn children of royalty, not for bastards fathered on a common whore."

Daemon still looked unbothered. "Lady Mysaria is to be my wife." Daemon said, not noticing the look of confusion that dawned on Mysaria's face when she heard what The Rogue Prince said.

Otto's look of disgust further intensified. "This is an abomination. With every breath you soil your name, your house, and your brother's reign."

"Our love does not know titles and traditions." Daemon insisted.

Otto sneered at Daemon. It was clear to the Hand of the King that there was no line that Daemon wasn't willing to cross. However, he tried to appeal to the men of the City Watch who were standing at Daemon's back. "And what of you, men of the City Watch? Aiding the Prince in his treason?!"

Daemon scoffed. "The King made me their commander. They are loyal to me." Daemon then held out the egg that he stole in front of Otto in a taunting manner. "You've come for the egg. Here it is."

"Are you mad?" Otto said incredulously, though he felt he should not be surprised that Daemon would stoop to this level. "You would never survive this."

"Well happily, neither would you." Responded The Rogue Prince in an arrogant manner.

Otto's glare intensified. "To choose violence, here... is to declare war against your King."

"Wonderful." Daemon said nonchalantly.

Otto raised an eyebrow at Daemon's casual indifference. "Even if it ends in the death of your unborn child and its mother?"

And in that moment, everyone drew their swords, with even Daemon himself drawing Dark Sister in preparation for battle. But before anyone could make a move, they heard a dragon's roar, causing all combatants present to freeze. As they looked up, they saw perched on a nearby cliff, Caraxes, known as the Blood Wyrm for his red scales, and Daemon's mount.

Otto grit his teeth. He knew that he and his men stood no chance against a dragon, especially a dragon of formidable strength like Caraxes. And given the smug look that Daemon was giving Otto, he knew it as well. With some reluctance, Otto said... "All of you. Sheathe the fucking steel."

They all did as they were told, sheathing their swords, albeit reluctantly.

The look of smug satisfaction on Daemon's face grew ever stronger, as he had believed himself to be victorious in this conflict. But before he could do anything else, he, and everyone else present heard the roars of two other dragons. They all turned their heads in the direction of the roars, and when they did, out from the clouds came Syrax and Silverwing, the mounts of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and her younger brother, Prince Aemon Targaryen.

To say everyone present, especially Otto, Ser Criston and Ser Harrold were shocked to see the two royal children arrive would be an understatement. Aemon in particular, since Otto had made it clear that it'd be best that him and Viserys were to remain behind.

When their dragons landed, the two of them dismounted and walked the bridge to confront Daemon. The two of them weren't about to take this insult to their younger brother lying down.

As they walked past the men, they bowed to the royal children, the only one not to do so being the Hand of the King himself. "Princess, My Prince. What are you doing here?"

"Preventing bloodshed." Rhaenyra said bluntly, clearly unimpressed with how this negotiation was being handled. She hadn't been here to witness the whole thing, but judging from how the situation looked when she and her brother arrived, it hadn't been going well.

"Ser Criston, escort the royal children to safety." Ordered the Hand of the King, although Aemon jumped in.

"You'll do no such thing." Aemon said coolly. "You had your chance to handle this, now we will."

"My Prince-"

"Take care not to startle our dragons, My Lords." Rhaenyra interrupted Otto. "They're very protective of us."

Without allowing Otto to protest any further, Aemon and Rhaenyra proceeded forth to confront their uncle.

"You are here." Daemon said in amusement, speaking in the tongue of High Valyrian.

"Were you not expecting me, Uncle?" Aemon retorted, also invoking the High Valyrian language. "I have every right to be here. I am the Prince of Dragonstone. That is my castle you are living in."

"Not until you come of age." Daemon replied.

"I was named his heir, Uncle. If anyone is to serve my brother as a regent, that should be me." Rhaenyra said in an annoyed tone.

"And yet, you have not come of age, either." Daemon said with an amused grin.

Aemon felt incensed that his uncle was treating this like some kind of game. "You have angered the King."

"I don't see why." Daemon replied, feigning innocence. "This is a day of celebration. I am to be wed."

Aemon scoffed. "You are already wed."

"To a woman not of my choosing." Daemon countered, his tone filling with disdain at the mere mention of his estranged wife, Lady Rhea Royce.

Rhaenyra also scoffed, feeling her patience with her uncle wearing thin by each passing second. "And this required you to steal our brother's egg?"

"You both shared your cradle with a dragon when you were born. I want the same for my child." Daemon declared boldly.

The royal children, for their parts, had their interests piqued at their uncle's words. "You're to have a child?" Aemon questioned wearily.

Daemon hesitated to answer that for a moment, taking a brief glance at Mysaria. He knew very well the claim that he was to have a child was nothing short of a falsehood; another lie spun in order to garner attention for his little plot. And yet, he knew he had neglected to mention this to Mysaria. "...One day." He said vaguely.

Mysaria, who had no idea of the fact Daemon claimed that she was pregnant with his child, of course looked offended, and immediately stormed off at Daemon's words, leaving The Rogue Prince rather embarrassed, a sight that Aemon couldn't help but find somewhat amusing.

Rhaenyra then spoke... "Enough is enough, Uncle. Return our brother's egg at once."

"And why would I do that?" Daemon chuckled.

"I order you to return the egg, Uncle." Aemon declared sharply.

Daemon laughed, although he couldn't help but feel a bit impressed by his nephew's boldness that befitted an older Prince, rather than the boy of eleven years old that he was. "You order me, nephew?"

"Yes, I order you. Because I am your future King." Aemon said in a cold tone of voice, stepping forward. "Remember that, Uncle? I'm going to be the King. Not you. If I had never existed, the path to the throne would have been yours. My existence made it more difficult. But my decision to name Rhaenyra my heir just made it impossible."

Daemon felt himself becoming incensed at his nephew's words, not liking being reminded of the fact that he could never have the throne, especially because Aemon had disinherited him.

"Now, I'm here, Uncle." Aemon goaded. "The object of your ire, the very thing that took away what you believed to be yours. So, you have your chance. Right here, right now... to exact revenge on the one who took away your life's desire."

Daemon blinked at his nephew's boldness. He was quite literally offering his life up on a silver platter. Objectively, this would be a golden opportunity.

Rhaenyra could see that Daemon looked tempted, and that caused a wave of fear to rise up in her throat. "Brother, no." She said fearfully, stepping in front of him in a protective manner, not wishing her brother to be harmed. "If you must kill him, you'll have to kill me too, Uncle. So do it. And be done with all this bother."

Daemon eyed both of his brother's children. If he killed them both here, then that would be his obstacles to the throne rid of for good.

...

However... in his heart, he could never bring himself to take their lives. He was no kinslayer, and despite the resentment he had felt towards his nephew for stealing what he believed to be rightfully his, he still cared about him enough that even The Rogue Prince could not find it in himself to take his life. So he turned his back on them both and simply threw the egg into Rhaenyra's hands, and left, him and his men retreating back into the castle.

Rhaenyra was shocked that what her younger brother did actually succeeded. Yet, the protective older sister in her could not help but chide him anyway. "You could have gotten yourself killed."

Aemon shrugged. "It worked, did it not?"

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "Silly boy." She said, although it was clear the words were said affectionately.

With the egg retrieved, the two of them went over to Otto and the rest of the household guard. They turned the egg over to the care of the Dragonkeepers, safe from Daemon at last.

Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around her brother from behind, looking down at him with pride. "Despite how reckless that was, you did well, Aemon. I'm proud."

Aemon smiled up at his older sister gratefully. "Thank you."

In truth, deep down inside, when he had dared Daemon to kill him, he had felt frightened. He didn't let it show on his face, but there was a part of him that feared Daemon would give into his desire for power and cut his own nephew's life short. But he didn't, and Aemon had managed to keep his composure, whilst he and his sister managed to get the dragon egg back.

This reassured the Crown Prince that maybe, just maybe, he had what it took to be the King that Westeros needed.

Chapter Text

Red Keep - Small Council Chambers

Lord Lyonel Strong waited patiently for the King to arrive. He received a missive that the King had requested his presence in the Small Council Chambers, so he could only assume that His Grace wished to hear his opinion on something.

Upon the King's arrival, the Lord of Harrenhal moved to stand up, however, the King motioned for him to sit back down. "No, please, Lord Lyonel." The King said humbly, wanting to dispense with such gestures. He approached the table with a thoughtful look on his face. "I have come looking for an unencumbered opinion."

Lyonel nodded. It would seem his assumption proved correct. "That's all I would ever give, Your Grace."

Viserys nodded. "Ever since my name was read by the archmaesters at the Great Council, I have felt Corlys Velaryon's envious gaze staring at me from across the Blackwater."

A grimace spread across the lips of the Lord of Harrenhal. He understood what the King was talking about. Lord Corlys had felt that a seat that had rightfully belonged to his wife - and by extension, the King Consort title that came along with it - had been stolen from them. "You sit upon the highest seat in the realm, Your Grace. Proud men don't like having to look up."

Viserys simply nodded in agreement, as if this is what he expected to hear, and then decided to just cut straight to what he really wished to discuss. "Laena Velaryon."

Immediately, Lord Lyonel knew exactly what the King was asking for his opinion on. The match between himself and the young Lady Laena that had been proposed by Lord Corlys. "Lord Corlys is your Master of Ships, and she is the eldest daughter of the wealthiest house in the realm." The Lord of Harrenhal began, trying to approach this from a logical, factual standpoint. "She comes from unimpeachable Valyrian stock, and she has Targaryen blood. What's to mislike?"

Viserys' facial expression contorted into one of discomfort. "She is twelve." He replied flatly, as if the answer to the Lord of Harrenhal's question was obvious.

Lyonel Strong did seem to acknowledge the King's discomfort, but he reasoned... "She will mature."

That response didn't seem to assuage the King's reservations. "I never asked to remarry."

Lord Lyonel gave the King a sympathetic look. "As King, you have a claim on all things. Even those you don't want. Marriage is not an obligation you can put off for long."

Viserys seemed to acknowledge Lord Strong's point, and yet... "What if I was to reject Lord Corlys' proposal?"

Lyonel seemed uncomfortable at the idea. "He would not be like to take it well.

Viserys still tried to find another solution. "What about Aemon? He and Laena are much closer in age. And he is my heir."

Lyonel seemed to consider this. "That is true, Your Grace. But it was you he asked for. I fear nothing short of a direct line to the Iron Throne will satisfy him."

"My son is a direct line to the Iron Throne." Viserys countered.

"Yes, but the Prince isn't the King. You are, Your Grace, and the realm needs a Queen at present." Lyonel pointed out once again. "And, I should remind you we find ourselves on the precipice of war in the Stepstones. And the Sea Snake holds claim to nearly half the realm's ships."

Viserys scoffed. "He would not dare withhold them in the face of the realm's need. Who is he to hector me?"

"No one, Your Grace." Lyonel conceded. "But Driftmark makes for a better ally than it does an enemy. The Sea Snake has made a calculated reach, a fair play for a man of his position." Lyonel paused for a moment before saying... "If you truly want my unencumbered opinion..."

"I do." Viserys nodded.

"...You should wed Laena Velaryon, Your Grace." Lyonel said. "Sate Lord Corlys and fix him at your side, permanently, as an ally."

Viserys didn't have time to respond as the doors to the Council Chambers opened, and one of the Kingsguard knights entered the room. "Your Grace, the Prince and Princess have returned from Dragonstone."

The King blinked in confusion. "Dragonstone?"

Red Keep - The King's Chambers

The Royal Children knew as they were being escorted to their father's chambers that he would not be happy when he found out what they did. Putting themselves at risk, disobeying an order...

And as they entered, the look on Viserys' face only seemed to confirm their expectations. As the door closed, both Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aemon bowed. "Your Grace." Said Rhaenyra.

"Your Grace." Said Aemon.

"You two disobeyed me." Viserys said in a disappointed voice. "The two of you fled King's Landing without a word, and you acted without The Crown's leave." Viserys fixed his stern glare on Aemon in particular. "And you. I was informed of your little gamble. Provoking Daemon the way you did."

The expression on Aemon's face was somewhere between apologetic and unrepentant. On one hand, he felt bad, because despite how stern he appeared at the moment, he knew that Viserys' anger was born of worry, worry that Daemon could have hurt him. On the other hand, he didn't feel bad because he did what he had to do to get the egg back. "It worked, did it not?"

His son's nonchalance seemed to annoy the King. "You are my heir! You could have been killed!"

Rhaenyra tried to step in. "It was not only Aemon, Your Grace. I put myself at risk as well."

He huffed. "I am aware. You both disobeyed. Acted foolishly."

Rhaenyra grimaced, feeling bad for having worried her father. "May we sit?"

Viserys raised an eyebrow but allowed his children to take a seat before him. "You both went to Dragonstone."

"And retrieved the egg without bloodshed." Rhaenyra pointed out.

"Something your Hand couldn't accomplish on his own, evidently." Aemon jabbed sarcastically.

Viserys was tempted to scold his children once again, but then he stopped when he saw the determination in their eyes. It reminded him so much of... "Sometimes, I often forget how much like her the two of you are."

The Royal Children looked at their father with curious eyes, knowing that he could only be referring to their mother. "Your mother's absence is a wound that will never heal." Viserys mused solemnly. "Without her... the Red Keep has lost a warmth that I dare say it will never recover."

Rhaenyra and Aemon looked at each other for a brief moment, before turning their gazes back to their father, a small smile gracing both of their lips. "It pleases us to hear you say this. To know that we're not alone in our grief." Said Rhaenyra.

"I wish I had known better... what to say to you in the aftermath." Viserys admitted regretfully. "I struggled to realize that my children have grown so quickly." The smile on his children's faces grow as he said this, and that seemed to make the King happy. Perhaps that would make this conversation easier to have. "So I know... that they know what is now expected of me."

The expression on Aemon's face grew serious at those words. He knew what his father was talking about. "The King must take a new wife." Said the Crown Prince. "...Ever since mother died, I feared this day. That a new Queen would come to replace our mother, and she'd be forgotten."

Viserys placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Of course not. I could never replace your mother." He said sympathetically, giving Aemon a reassuring look. "But you two are my only heirs. Our line is weak, vulnerable. Too easily ended."

Aemon nodded in understanding. "And by marrying again, you may begin to ensure that we are better defended."

Rhaenyra looked at Aemon. "Better defended...? Against whom?"

"Against whomever may challenge us." Aemon responded. He looked back at his father. "Isn't that right, Father?"

The King gave his son a pride-filled smile, both proud of him and grateful at the same time for his understanding. "Correct. Securing a strong line is one of my duties as King. It will be your duty as King, one day, when you take my seat."

Aemon contemplated the idea. The idea that one day, he would have to sire heirs of his own. Even now, he still had no idea how he felt about it...

Viserys seemed to mistake his son's contemplation with worry, and so he continued to reassure him... "I do not wish to make us estranged."

The Princess nodded in understanding. "You are the King. And so your first duty is to the realm."

"Mother would have understood this." Aemon agreed. "She would not begrudge you for doing your duty. And neither do we." ...Although for some reason, the words tasted bitter on his tongue. As if uttering them somehow reminded him of the fact that his mother had died doing her duty, though he didn't voice the sentiment aloud.

Because Aemon knew one thing. For people in their position, duty is an important part of their role.

So no matter how he felt about it, he would have to welcome his future stepmother with open arms.

Chapter Text

Red Keep - Small Council Chambers

Come the next morning was the meeting that both Aemon and Rhaenyra had expected. Both of them had been anxious all night, especially since today was the day where Viserys would formally announce the one he was choosing to the next Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.

Rhaenyra was initially unsettled at the idea of her father remarrying again when it's hardly been a year since their mother died. It felt like she was being replaced so soon, like her death was just something to be etched into a distant memory, to eventually be forgotten by time. But a talk with her younger brother had reassured her.

Aemon really was wise beyond his years, even moreso than the Princess herself, sometimes. He explained that their father remarrying was a necessity for the safety and security of their family, but that their mother would always live on in their hearts. Although there was a small bit of lingering doubt within Rhaenyra's heart, she's come to accept that this decision is a step that is needed for the stability of the Seven Kingdoms.

As befitting of the purpose of this meeting, all the Lords of the Small Council were present. Of course, Prince Aemon and Princess Rhaenyra were present, as well as Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, and his daughter, Lady Alicent Hightower. Ser Otto seemed rather composed, whilst Alicent was picking at her fingernails nervously, clearly very anxious about something. This went unnoticed by everyone present at the meeting, Rhaenyra included, although Aemon was the exception, as he did seem to pick up on Alicent's nervous habit, and he couldn't help but wonder what the source of her anxiety was.

"Good morrow, My Lords." King Viserys spoke, calling the attention of all those present. Aemon shook his thoughts away, as he was aware that this was a pivotal family decision being made today. "I have decided to take a new wife."

Everyone listened intently to what the King had to say to them. Lord Corlys Velaryon in particular looked very pleased and eager to hear the news that his daughter would be chosen as the next Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys paused for a moment, and looked towards Aemon, then Rhaenyra, both of them giving him supportive looks. Viserys took a deep breath, and began to speak. "I intend to marry..." Viserys paused, and turned his gaze to Alicent, whose gaze turned guiltily towards the Targaryen siblings immediately. Rhaenyra and Aemon's own shocked gazes turned to Alicent's, especially as Viserys uttered his next words... "...the Lady Alicent Hightower before spring's end."

To say the Small Council were shocked at the King's decision would be an understatement, but none were more shocked than the King's own children. Or more specifically, his daughter, who looked absolutely horrified, whilst Aemon simply blinked in surprised.

Corlys Velaryon, for his part, look absolutely incensed at the King's declaration. He stood up from his seat, fury etched onto his face. "This is an absurdity." The Velaryon Lord bit out. "My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm."

The King did not seem particularly surprised by Lord Corlys' reaction. In fact, he had even expected it. Regardless, King Viserys met Lord Corlys' cold gaze with an icy one of his own. "And I am your King."

Corlys breathed in an enraged breath through his nose, and then turned his gaze to Otto Hightower, who had what Corlys perceived to be a smug look of superiority on his face. Enraged and humiliated at this snubbing of his daughter, Lord Corlys Velaryon stormed out of the Small Council Chamber.

Meanwhile, Alicent, feeling sick with guilt, could barely bring herself to look at Rhaenyra in the eyes, the Targaryen Princess quite clearly distressed. This is something that did not go without notice from King Viserys. "Rhaenyra?" He called to her with a concerned look on his face.

Rhaenyra, feeling betrayed, hurt, and angry all at the same time, followed Corlys Velaryon's lead and stormed out of the Council Chambers. Alicent, feeling the guilt hit her in full force, quickly ran after her friend.

The King looked to his son who simply looked at his father and said... "You should have known this would happen." He sighed in sad disappointment. "I'll go after her." Said the Crown Prince before he stood up and went after his sister.

Red Keep - Hallway

"Rhaenyra, please." Alicent called as her friend stalked down the halls of the Red Keep, angry and betrayed.

"Go away." Barked the Princess, not wanting to hear anything from Alicent. How could she do this? Her best friend, whom she shared her deepest feelings and thoughts with, the one she turned to for comfort in the moments of darkness, do this to her? Marry her own father?

"Please, Rhaenyra, I wanted to tell you." Pleaded the Lady Alicent, the guilt in her voice obvious. She never wanted things to turn out like this. She never wanted to do this in the first place. But that day when her father asked to her to go 'comfort' the King and 'suggested' doing so whilst wearing one of her mother's dresses... she knew that there was only one way this was going to go.

"But you didn't, did you?" Rhaenyra snapped, turning back to the Hightower girl with a venomous glare. "You kept this from me, lied to me. How long have you been seducing my father for, 'friend'? Please, do tell."

Alicent winced, hearing the anger in her friend's voice. Rhaenyra had never spoken to her like this before. "It's not like that, Rhaenyra. My father-"

"Your father?" Rhaenyra laughed, bitterly. "Oh, of course, this was Otto Hightower's doing. I shan't even be surprised. My uncle was right about one thing, he really is a scheming cunt. What I didn't think is that you'd bend to his ambitions like an obedient little girl."

Just then, Aemon arrived to intervene before things got any worse. "Rhaenyra, please calm down."

Rhaenyra looked at her younger brother incredulously. "Calm down?! Brother, you can't possibly be fine with this?! With this... this betrayal!"

"I know you're angry, but this doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing." Prince Aemon tried to soothe her anger. "We know Alicent. We trust her-"

"She lied to us, Aemon! She's not worthy of our trust!" Rhaenyra snapped. Although, she felt slightly guilty for directing her anger towards her brother. Because despite how mature he is for his age, at the end of the day, he is still a young boy of eleven. He's looking at this in a positive light, without understanding why this was hurting her so much. "If you want to accept this so easily, very well, but do not expect me to do so." And Rhaenyra left, stalking off angrily, ignoring her brother calling out for her to come back.

Alicent could feel the tears welling in her eyes and a surging ache grow strong in her heart, knowing that her friendship with Rhaenyra is now damaged.

High Tide

Corlys felt slighted once again, and by the same man from all those years ago. When the crown had been lost from his wife's grasp, and now the title of Queen Consort has been snatched away from his daughter's grasp, and given to the daughter of Otto Hightower, of all people! He, the Lord of the Tides, the head of a house undoubtedly more powerful than House Hightower, lost to a second son of that very house, a second son who had no advantages to offer. It was infuriating... and he knew that his guest understood that.

"House Velaryon's origins reach back to Old Valyria. More ancient than even House Targaryen... according to some texts." Lord Corlys mused. "But unlike the Targaryens... we were no dragonlords. For centuries my house had to scratch out an existence from the sea with grit and luck. When I ascended the Driftwood Throne, I knew what I wanted. So I went out and seized it." Said Corlys Velaryon, the pride in everything he built for himself showing in his voice. "Unlike every other lord of the realm, I can say that I built my house's high seat with the strength of mine own back." Corlys then looked at his guest with a determined gaze. "I've always thought of you and I as having been... made from the same cloth."

The guest, Daemon Targaryen, gave Corlys a wry smile. "I wasn't aware you had a King for a brother. Or a nephew who spits in your face when you upset him."

Corlys shook his head. "We're both men who have had to cut our own way through the world. We've been passed over too often."

Daemon scoffed. "Did you call me to Driftmark to remind me of my low standing, Lord Corlys, or was there some other reason?"

Lord Corlys nodded. He liked that Daemon wanted to get straight to the point. "You've heard of the troubles in the Stepstones?"

Daemon tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Some Myrish Prince is feeding Westerosi sailors to the crabs."

"I've been petitioning the King to send my navy into the territory, but he's denied me."

Daemon chuckled, as if not entirely surprised to hear this. "Being King isn't exactly my brother's strongest trait."

"The Crabfeeder is backed by powerful entities within the Free Cities who wish to see Westeros weakened." Corlys explained. "And the King's failures have allowed him to accumulate strength. If those shipping lanes fall, my house will cripple." Corlys then scoffed in a bitter tone. "I will not have Driftmark beggared while our King idles himself with feasts, and balls, and tourneys."

"I will speak of my brother as I wish." Replied the Rogue Prince, a sudden seriousness and warning entering his voice. "You will not." Despite everything, despite their grievances and all the times they fought, Viserys was still his brother. And he will not allow anyone else to speak ill of him.

Lord Corlys nodded apologetically, before getting to the point of the conversation. "Waiting in the Stepstones is a chance for you to prove your worth to any who might yet doubt it. We are the realm's second sons, Daemon. Our worth is not given. It must be made."

Daemon could feel a small, yet smug smirk crawling up his lips.

Watch, nephew. Daemon thought internally. This is how true glory is achieved. Not by decisions born from petty scorn, but through war and bloodshed.

Chapter Text

115AC - Small Council Chambers

It has been nearly three years since King Viserys' marriage to Alicent Hightower. Aemon could still remember the ceremony as if it had only been yesterday. It had been an extravagant event, expensive food, guests from the most prestigious noble houses, and the best entertainment the crown could afford.

Princess Rhaenyra had initially opted to abstain from attending the wedding, but the Crown Prince Aemon encouraged his older sister to attend, if not for Alicent, then for their father, King Viserys. Rhaenyra had reluctantly acquiesced, if only because her brother had pleaded with her to put her enmity aside for one day. That said, Rhaenyra's attempt to hide her distaste for the whole affair was rather poor, and she'd nearly indulged in drink in order to drown her sorrows. She likely would have, had it not been for her younger brother's intervention, him knowing that it'd be less than ideal for a Princess to conduct herself in such a fashion.

Now, here they were, nearly three years later. Prince Aemon, now thirteen years old, watched as the crowd circled around his younger half-brother, Prince Aegon Targaryen, who was born to King Viserys and Alicent, or Queen Alicent it should be said, a year after their wedding. Viserys was proudly presenting his son to everyone, and Aemon had to admit, it warmed his heart to see his father happy after everything that had happened with his late mother, Queen Aemma Arryn. Today was Aegon's nameday, so Aemon was going to make the best of the event.

"He has your hair, Your Grace." One noble commented, evoking laughter from the crowd.

The King chuckled warmly, stroking his younger son's hair. "He does have my hair."

"He has your eyes, Your Grace." Another noble commented, evoking another bout of laughter from the crowd.

"Yes, he does." Viserys laughed with pride. He then boops Aegon on the nose. "And he has my nose, doesn't he?"

Queen Alicent, who was already heavily pregnant with her second child, giggled, as she watched the crowd admire her son. "He does, Your Grace." Alicent replied to her husband, and then she regarded her stepson, Prince Aemon. "He resembles you in a certain light."

Aemon shuddered in a playful manner. "I hope not. One of me is quite enough." He joked, causing the crowd to let out the loudest laugh possible. He then reached over to pet his half-brother's hair. "He'll make a great knight, I'm sure." Aemon remarked to his 'stepmother', Queen Alicent, though considering their gap in age is rather minor, Aemon still regards Alicent as more of a sister-figure than a stepmother.

Meanwhile, watching from the sidelines was the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, and his older brother, Lord Hobert Hightower. "Two years old and our boy already has a kingly presence."

"He may yet, brother, but this morning he insisted on eating porridge with his hands." Otto replied with dry amusement.

The Lord of the Hightower laughed heartily. "He will grow. We're quite a party assembled in his honor. Much like it was for Prince Aemon's second nameday."

"Yes, though that celebration proved more extravagant, as it was the day the heir to the Iron Throne were born." Otto remarked, remembering how hard it had been for King Viserys and Queen Aemma to have a male heir. So when Aemon was born and lived long enough for his parents to tell the tale, the celebration that came along on his second nameday had certainly been a day to remember. And considering Aemon had been born sometime after the Great Council at Harrenhal... well, that's what earned him the moniker, the 'Heir of Blessings'.

"At the very least, there will be no more worries about Daemon becoming King." Hobert suggested.

Otto raised a weary eyebrow at his brother. "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that, brother?"

"It is Aegon's second nameday. His infancy is behind him." The Hightower Lord replied. "And as they say... every heir needs a spare."

Otto frowned slightly at that. He knew what his brother was hinting at. If Aemon dies without an heir of his own, then, by Westerosi tradition, Aegon would be the one to become King after him. However... "I wouldn't be so sure."

Hobert raised an eyebrow at that. "He is the King's second-born son."

"Yes, but I don't think Prince Aemon will see it so clearly." Replied the Hand of the King, knowing all too well just how stubborn and defiant Aemon could be.

Lord Hobert gave his brother a serious look. "Then it lies with you to make him see it... Lord Hand. After all, the Prince is young, and he must be guided in the right direction if he is to rule one day."

Otto pondered over this. On one hand, he could see where his brother was coming from. After all, most were shocked at Aemon's decision to name Rhaenyra his heir. On the other... "I don't think that will be entirely necessary."

Hobert raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, brother? I understand you wish to respect the Prince, but to name his sister, a girl, his heir, should anything happen to him..."

"That is if something were to happen to him." Otto reminded his brother. "So long as we do our duty, and keep the Prince safe, he will live to become King, take a wife of his own, and have many heirs. So in the end, who he chooses to name as his spare is immaterial."

Hobert sighed, seeing Otto's logic, but he still gives brother a warning look... "I understand, brother, but be careful. If something did happen to the Prince, the realm would not so easily accept a woman to rule it."

As the crowd continued to fawn over the young Prince Aegon, Viserys was suddenly approached by Ser Tyland Lannister, whom the King had appointed as his new Master of Ships since Lord Corlys Velaryon's departure. "Your Grace." Ser Tyland bowed respectfully. "I bring urgent news from the Stepstones. The Crabfeeder has dug in for siege on Bloodstone while his men sabotage our fleet under the cover of dark."

"Not today, Tyland." The King replied dismissively, not having any desire to engage in court politics today.

The Master of Ships, however, was insistent. "The matter of the Stepstones is regrettably urgent."

"It's been three years. It can wait another three days." Viserys replied, a hint of impatience in his tone.

The Crown Prince Aemon frowned a bit at that. "Father, are you sure it's wise to-"

"Leave it, Aemon." Viserys insisted. "This is a day to celebrate, so for your brother's sake, let us put court business aside."

Aemon rolled his eyes. His father could be stubborn, he knew as much, but this was a bit too dismissive. But Viserys already walked away. Even from a distance, however, Aemon could still hear Ser Tyland trying to insist on the importance of sending men to aid Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon, citing the possibility of defeat. Of course, in Otto's mind, since their military campaign was launched without the leave of the crown, sending help now would only make the crown look weak. Another thing that made Aemon roll his eyes. Sometimes, he believed that Otto cared more about appearances than actually doing something. But the Crown Prince noted that his father seemed more concerned with where his sister is, even questioning Ser Criston Cole about it... and indeed, she was nowhere in sight.

Alicent whispered in Aemon's ear. "Might you know where Rhaenyra is...?"

Aemon rubbed his forehead. "I may. The Godswood, if I had to name a particular area."

The Queen Consort frowned slightly. "Perhaps I should go and fetch her...?"

"I will do it." Aemon volunteered. "She might be more... cooperative if it is I who talks to her."

Alicent looked a bit sad when Aemon said that, but she knew he had a point. While the Crown Prince had been more accepting of his father's marriage to the Lady Alicent Hightower, she knew that Rhaenyra had not been, and their relationship had considerably soured. It saddened her, but she knew it was probably best if Aemon were the one to go and speak to his sister.

Red Keep - Godswood

In the Godswood of the Red Keep, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen sat by the tree, whilst reading the book, Ten Thousand Ships, whilst listening to the songs of a minstrel by the name of Samwell... He was playing a certain song for the Princess, that... she seemed to rather like hearing.

"Again." Rhaenyra said nonchalantly, flipping a page on the book.

Samwell looked a bit stunned. He'd already played the song a few times already, yet the Princess desired to hear it again. "...Perhaps the Princess might like to hear something else?"

"She would not." Rhaenyra replied dismissively. "Play it again."

Samwell sighed, but ultimately relented, knowing he didn't really have much choice but to obey what the Princess had told him.

Just as Samwell began the song again, he saw the approaching figure of Prince Aemon Targaryen before him, and the minstrel quickly sat up and bowed to the Crown Prince. "My Prince."

The Princess Rhaenyra affected an annoyed tone of voice. "Did I say to stop?" The minstrel gave Rhaenyra an awkward look, but she didn't seem to care. "From the beginning."

Samwell hesitated for a moment before sitting back down and playing the song again. Prince Aemon rolled his eyes at his older sister's antics, and said... "Rhaenyra?"

Rhaenyra fought the urge to smirk. "Yes, brother?"

"Your presence is wanted in the outer courtyard." Aemon replied, and he too was trying to suppress a smirk of amusement.

"I've decided to remain here and read instead." Rhaenyra replied cheekily.

Aemon rolled his eyes, and then turned to Samwell. "You may go, Samwell."

Princess Rhaenyra turned to her brother with a playful pout. "Don't spoil my fun, brother."

The Crown Prince could not hold back the snicker that he had fought to suppress. His sister is four years older than he is, yet he often felt like the older child sometimes. "Samwell, as your future King, I order you to leave the Godswood."

"At once, My Prince." Samwell replied, standing up quickly, and although he did not voice the thought, he gave Aemon a grateful expression that was practically thanking him for giving him an excuse to leave.

Once Samwell left, Aemon sat by Rhaenyra's side, and the Targaryen Princess settled an arm around his shoulder, nudging him playfully. "'As your future 'King'? My, dear brother. You really are growing, throwing around your influence like that."

Aemon chuckled. "You'd have bored the poor man to death if you had your way." Joked the Crown Prince. "Anyway, our father's been looking for you. He wishes for you to join us on this hunt."

The Princess could not help but scoff at her younger brother's words. "Yes, I imagine he has much to celebrate. But he does not need me for that."

Prince Aemon sighed. He could practically hear the defiance oozing out of her voice. "Come on. He wants us all to be together. It could be fun."

"Is it his command?" Rhaenyra asked dryly.

Aemon rolled his eyes. "It needn't be. None of it need be this way in truth, Rhaenyra."

The Princess sighed. She appreciated what her brother was trying to do, but... "I understand that, but I'm sure you can see why it isn't exactly easy to play happy families with Father and Alicent."

Aemon scratched the back of his head. On one hand, he felt as if his sister was being unfair on Alicent. After all, it's not like she had much choice in the matter. On the other hand, he could sympathize with her frustration as the whole thing had come at a time where it was clear that the wounds caused by their mother's death weren't completely healed. Still... "Come, Rhaenyra... it's our brother's nameday."

"Our half-brother's nameday." Rhaenyra said firmly.

Aemon rolled his eyes. "Is there so much a difference?" Aemon replied flatly. "I understand what you might be feeling, but you can't hold it against Alicent forever. You know she was only doing what her father was commanding of her. And I think you know that too."

Rhaenyra wanted to argue, protest, the whole of it, but the truth is, she couldn't deny that her brother was right. She knew Alicent had no active desire to marry Viserys, after all, the man was old enough to be her father. And she knew it. "I suppose you're right. It just... out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be her?"

Aemon gave Rhaenyra a sympathetic look and squeezed her hand. "I know. But like it or not, she is our father's Queen now, and will be for the foreseeable future. So, at the very least, try and make an effort to maintain a good relationship with her. If not for her, or Father... for my sake, at least."

Rhaenyra looked at her younger brother and smiled at him lovingly. He always had a way with her, somehow. So with a warm smile, she rubbed his back affectionately. "Alright. I will do my best."

The Crown Prince smiled in satisfaction. He had gotten his sister to, at the very least, try and warm up to the idea of her former best friend being their father's wife.

And who knows? In time, they might just be able to repair their friendship.

Aemon could only hope.