Morel
patreon
31. Aenys VI / Maegor XVII
🕑 Added 2024-08-11 15:42:02 +0000 UTCAenys VI
32AC
“Father, when can I fly on Dreamfyre?” Rhaena spoke through her chewing mouth and despite the endearing smile on his father’s face, his wife was the first to respond.
“Do not speak while chewing, Rhaena,” came Alyssa’s curt response and Rhaena looked a little downcast.
“Pay it no mind, Alyssa. Rhaena is merely excited, that's all,” his grandfather came swiftly to the defense of Rhaena and Aenys proudly nodded his head. Rhaena was normally a well-behaved child, it was just a slip-up.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Alyssa quickly demurred before Rhaena hesitantly spoke up again.
“So… Father?” Rhaena said again, after finishing her bite of spiced lamb.
“I first rode Quicksilver when I was nine…” Aenys began and he hated the sight of hope blossoming in Rhaena’s face as he would have to crush it.
“But Quicksilver was also nine then, correct, husband?” Alyssa jumped in first and the mood soured as Rhaena wilted.
“Correct, Alyssa. Quicksilver was quite large, once Dreamfyre reaches a suitable size, you can ride her,” Aenys promised then, if only to turn her frown upside down.
“But when will that be!” Rhaena quickly pouted and both Aenys and his father smiled at the sight. Rheana had gotten much livelier ever since she claimed Dreamfyre. His timid little girl had gotten a lot more outgoing. The dragon blood within her awakened with the bonding of her little beast.
They could both understand the desire to ride atop your dragon. Aenys had been just as excited to ride Quicksilver when his father finally permitted it six and ten years ago. His father had also told him stories of his first flight atop Balerion. It was a special thing to finally ride your dragon and he could not fault Rhaena for being impatient.
“Your uncle Maegor’s dragon was six years old when he was first ridden. But you are much smaller than he was so we will just have to wait and see,” he said easily before he realized his slip of the tongue.
‘Damn it all,’ Aenys thought instantly. Two icy stares sent a freezing chill down his spine as bumps ran up his arm. He had little trouble regaling tales of his younger brother to his children in privacy but he had let it slip in the presence of two he should not have.
His father retained his anger, even three years on from his brother’s foolish mistake. Bringing up Maegor’s name in his presence was a surefire way to earn his displeasure at best, and anger at worst. His father had not flown into a rage since that day, but Maegor remained a topic to be discussed away from his presence.
Meanwhile, his wife was also deeply uninterested in hearing Maegor’s name. Aenys only really noticed it once a few years had passed by in their marriage, but his wife did not care for Maegor in the slightest. It became readily clear once Maegor was banished. While the rest of the court was shocked into a dour mood at the banishment of his well-liked brother, his wife never looked happier. He even heard rumors circling the Aegonfort that it was Alyssa who leaked the news of Maegor’s secret marriage to the nobles and while she denied it, Aenys remained suspicious.
It seemed he was the only one in Westeros who still missed his brother these days, besides his Aunt of course. The court had moved on readily, with many nobles either seemingly forgetting all about his brother or going east to join him.
All of that meant that he had just royally blundered and thoroughly dispelled the happy mood acquired during the course of their late winter meal. His father and wife’s icey purple stares created a cold sweat on Aenys’s face before Rhaena finally freed him from his torment.
“Six years?! I will be five and ten!” Rhaena said with an appalled look and his father’s look quickly abated, unlike his wife’s icy look.
“That is not what your father said, Rhaena. Your uncle was a lot bigger than you are. Dreamfyre should be able to carry you at a younger age,” his father worked to assuage Rhaena’s fears and Aenys took the chance to return the icy glare Alyssa was giving him.
She looked surprised to see a displeased look on his face but she relented quickly. Returning to her glass of Arbor Gold. Aenys feared his father’s wrath but he would not let Alyssa continue with her spiteful rage in his presence.
Ever since his brother’s dance with the Dothraki, his wife’s vitriolic hatred for Maegor seemed to return from wherever it was laid to rest three years ago.
“Grandfather, when will I get a dragon?” his son suddenly spoke up for what felt like the first time that night and all eyes turned to him.
His son Aegon had grown much more lively ever since he turned eight name days old. Yet ever since Rhaena claimed her little blue hatchling two sennights ago. He had been oddly quiet.
“There are plenty more eggs, my son. I am certain that another dragon shall soon hatch and you can claim a dragon then,” Aenys quickly promised before his father stopped him.
“No, Aegon will not claim a hatchling,” his father spoke with a surety and will that silenced the room. Even little Viserys quit his babbling.
“What? But… but… Grandfather! I want a dragon too!” his son quickly cried out and his father nodded knowingly.
“I know you do, Aegon. But you will wait for a much grander prize. I want you to claim Balerion upon my passing,” his father said and the realization hit Aenys like a ton of bricks.
‘Upon his passing…’ Aenys thought the same words his wife was also surely thinking. The thought had not crossed their mind very much but his father was growing older. He was already nine and fifty and the silver hair on his beard had already begun to gray.
“Balerion! Really Grandfather?!” Aegon’s excited words practically leaped from his mouth, the eight-name days old boy blissfully unaware that his grandfather had mortality in mind.
“Of course, Aegon. It is only natural that you claim my dragon,” his father said with a smile and the cheerful tone returned to the room but Aenys still felt off.
“Ah! Because we have the same name!” His now energetic son put two and two together and the smile on his father’s face betrayed the meaning of his previous words.
A memory Aenys had not thought about in years suddenly popped back into his mind. A conversation was shared with his little brother prior to his expedition to the Stepstones.
“...Hey Aenys,” Maegor began as he dealt the cards and Aenys was startled at the abrupt change in their conversation.
“What Maegor? Do you dislike speaking of poetry so much as to cut me off?” Aenys poked at his little brother a bit but Maegor did not bother to quip back.
“What kind of king do you want to be?” his brother said then and it was like a cold splash of water to his face.
“Where did this come from Maegor?” Aenys began but he was denied his question yet again.
“Answer the question, Aenys,” Maegor used the same tone that his mother often used, one of unshakable will.
“I suppose I want to be a good king,” Aenys gave a half-hearted reply and Maegor’s unimpressed look was sickening to see.
“That’s it? Our father had dreams of a kingdom greater than any other at your age. Surely you have thought more than that?” Maegor said with a blank stare and Aenys’s mind struggled for something else to say.
“Where did this come from Maegor?” Aenys tried one more time to ask his own question. He needed to know just what Maegor was after.
“I am to be your Hand of the King one day, Brother. I would like to know what kind of king I will help rule,” Maegor said with the same unimpressed look on his face.
“That is hardly a discussion that must be held now. Our father is healthy and my ascension to the throne is still years off,” Aenys started but a serious stare from Maegor silenced him.
“...I would like to be a kind king, one who rules fairly and justly, I want a kingdom where my family can live in the same peace that we have been raised in,” Aenys said and Maegor’s stern look softened.
“Why do you have to be a kind king? Surely a tyrannical king could achieve the same peace?” his little brother asked and Aenys was almost stunned at the response.
“The people have treated us kindly, I have received nothing but warm welcomes on all my progresses. Why should I be a tyrant when they have done nothing to deserve it,” Aenys quickly came to the defense of the people who had shown him nothing but love.
“Yet,” Maegor said simply and Aenys was confused.
“Yet?”
“Yet, the people have done nothing to deserve that, yet,” Maegor continued and Aenys narrowed his eyes.
“Is this about the Faith again? I already told you, that they raised no fuss about our mothers’ marriages to our father. What reason would they have to cause trouble?”
“Because that is the way of this world, Aenys. It is a world of the strong and the weak. The Faith is strong, they command influence in every kingdom besides the North and even have an army within the very walls of King’s Landing,” Maegor repeated the same spiel Aenys must have heard a dozen times by now but it all meant nothing.
“All the more reason to not act as a tyrant, they have obeyed under the benevolent rule of our father, should I continue with the same benevolence. They will raise no issue.” Aenys dismissed Maegor’s fears again.
Sure the Faith had large forces of Warrior’s Sons and Poor Fellows scattered across the Kingdom but what did it matter? They followed the King’s Peace and obeyed royal decrees. Their seven hundred knights in King’s Landing were a great help to the City Watch and even kept the crime in the city down. Not to mention all the work the poor fellows did to aid their brethren in the streets.
“They have obeyed because of Father, Aenys. His word keeps the King’s Peace. The threat of Balerion, keeps the King’s Peace. I’ve killed to keep the King’s Peace, are you ready to do the same?” Maegor asked with another serious look.
“You are spending too much time on Dragonstone, come with me on my next progress, and you will see the truth of the matter,” Aenys gave his non-reply and Maegor just let out a sigh.
“Aenys, I just wanted to say that you should have some sort of idea of what you want to do as King, as it may come sooner than you think. It pays to be prepared in the event of the unexpected, this world is much more cruel than you think it to be.” Maegor finally relented his questioning and Aenys hesitantly nodded.
“...Sure, I will think of some ideas and get back to you, Valonqar. Now, about that progress?”
“Beat me this round and I will think about it,” Maegor said with a now returned smile and Aenys gave one of his own.
That conversation was held years ago at this point but it was not the only one. Maegor had asked him similar questions a few times ever since they first met on Dragonstone but now it felt different.
‘Perhaps because he was older?’ Aenys initially thought but he corrected himself then.
‘It is because he is no longer here,’ Aenys figured it out then. He could always put off proper planning and gathering ideas for his future as he could speak to his little brother whenever he wanted. Now his little brother was gone and even his father was pondering his death.
‘I should start planning,’ Aenys thought before a yell caught his attention.
“Aenys!” his father’s distinctive voice returned him to their dinner situation and Aenys was quick to respond.
“W-what? Sorry I was lost in thought,” he tried quickly to rebound and found all the eyes at the table staring at him, even little Viserys.
“You were out for a while there, but I believe it is time for you to return to your manse. The sun will set soon,” his father said and Aenys was quick to agree.
“Of course, say goodbye to Grandfather, children,” he quickly said to his children as Rhaena and Aegon got up to give their grandfather a hug, Viserys also waddled his way over there and gave his father’s leg a squeeze.
“Good night, Grandfather!” his two eldest said in unison and Aenys nodded along.
‘This is what I want,’ Aenys thought with a smile. His little brother was right, he realized then. Not about everything, but Aenys needed to be more prepared, he did not want to lose this.
…
“Good morning, Your Grace. I hope today is treating you well,” the heavily accented High Valyrian rang out in the throne room and Aenys recoiled at the man's horrendous vocals.
‘Typical Braavosi,’ Aenys thought with a frown. Braavos had long since grown famous for its defiance of Old Valyria. Brutalizing their language was certainly not a step too far for them to go.
“This day is treating me well, Corvio of House Nartalos. Now tell me why you are here,” His father said from atop the Iron Throne.
His father had deliberately chosen to receive the son of the Sealord of Braavos here. Due to his high position, he was in fact received but his father allowed no assumption that he was weak. He sat atop his menacing throne with at least a hundred soldiers in the hall, along with all the Kingsguard and himself in attendance too.
Braavos was notoriously flippant with House Targaryen and his father set out to make the question clear. They were not weak and Braavos was not their equal.
“We are here to beseech your intervention, as a Dragonlord has been running wild in the East and can no longer be tolerated,” the short brown-haired lord and Aenys bristled at the insult to his brother.
“I refuse,” his father said in an instant, with all eyes in the room suddenly turning onto him. Aenys dreaded the time when he would have so many eyes placed upon his person.
“Pardon, Your Grace? He is your son, and he is in Essos troubling cities because you sent him there,” the son of the Sealord did not take his father’s refusal well but his change in tone was insulting enough for even Aenys to bristle.
‘The insolence,’ Aenys thought. To demand something of Aegon the Conqueror? As a guest no less? It was an outrageous insult, especially when you were begging for an intervention.
“Troubling cities? Do you perhaps mean destroying Dothraki's armies? It sounds like you should be praising him instead of making demands of me,” his father returned the answer with venom dripping from his tone and it felt like every guard in the room had a hand on their swords.
“We are grateful for his efforts in wiping out the barbarians, but his continued presence in the region cannot and will not be tolerated. I am here on behalf of Braavos, Lorath, and Myr. Our cities do not want him in Essos,” the son of the Sealord said once more and Aenys could not help but ponder if his words were truthful.
Like many other nobles in Westeros, Aenys was following the escapades of Maegor in Essos. Word of each and every battle that took place made its way back to Westeros and only garnered Maegor more fame. Especially when battles were won when not atop a Dragon.
Aenys had even tried to help his brother behind the scenes. On his recent progress to the North. He dropped a few subtle hints to the lords of the North. Nothing that could be traced back to him but a few ships had departed from White Harbor a few moons ago and no doubt delivered their cargo to his brother in the east.
Yet Aenys felt insulted on his brother’s behalf. He had gone to great lengths to placate the other Free Cities. He had publicly proclaimed that he would not ride Terrax against their forces to assuage their fears of Old Valyria coming back once more.
‘Good,’ Aenys thought with a smile. If his brother chose to stay in the East he would certainly be upset. Maegor had already proclaimed to him several times that he wanted to help him rule. Yet he would not deny his extensive operations in Old Andalos were a bit worrying.
“Then bring your complaints to him, not me,” his father said and with a wave of his hand, the son of the Sealord was dismissed, red-faced and furious.
Aenys watched the foolish man depart the throne room and felt a deep sense of foreboding. Braavos was strong and influential. With deep pockets, a large population, and many friends. Aenys could not help but feel like his father just forced their hand. Like King Aegon had just made war in Essos inevitable.
__________________________________________________________________________
Maegor XVII
32AC
‘To me,’ I sent the mental command with a sigh as I finally made my way out of the temple the conclave decided to meet today. The conclave had no set building they met in. They would just choose a temple or building the Prince decided on that day and everyone was just supposed to ride out and meet there.
‘Another reform to propose,’ I thought with another sigh as I spotted the familiar black form of Terrax appearing over the setting sun. It felt like I had been proposing a lot of those recently. I expected Pentos to be a bit more ahead of Westeros.
Pentos certainly was more advanced in some areas, with paved roads, concrete, proper government, a bureaucracy, religious freedom, and a genuine arts industry. But they were also far behind in others, namely slavery.
Slavery was a blight upon this world. That was a belief I held near and dear to me. Discounting the horrid treatment people were put through as slaves. It also was just not worth the costs it brought onto a society.
Slavery stifled innovation, which was my main complaint with the institution. Slavery incentivized rich slobs to sit atop their money like fat cats. Building ever larger estates to work with and an ever-increasing number of slaves, instead of inventing new things to improve the world and life of others.
I was up against such a leviathan in Pentos, even if it was no doubt going to be easier than if I tried in some place like Volantis. Pentos was blessed with the fact that only around fifty percent of the city was enslaved. That meant that I had plenty of free allies and some Magisters I could convince to work with me against the institution. It also meant I would not have to start from scratch if I abolished the horrid institution in the future.
But I was still facing a great challenge, many magisters controlled immense estates in the Flatlands or Old Andalos, growing cash crops where applicable with practically the same ancient technology the Ghiscari used eight millennia ago. The small landowners that typically drove farming innovations were long since forced off their farms. Whether bought out by massive magister estates or the formerly dominant Dothraki.
"Introducing new plows and four field crop rotation was like pulling teeth,’ I thought with a frown as I recalled the several stuck-up and thoroughly simple-minded magisters I had to convince. My allies following my lead when it came to my reforms was a good start but I had a lot more convincing to do.
‘Perhaps my increased farm yields will convince them,’ I thought with a sigh. I had put an enormous amount of effort into building up my possessions in the Velvet Hills and Old Andalos. Now I just had to play the waiting game and wait for my advancements to bear fruit.
I had been brute forcing a lot of advancement all over Pentos ever since the battle of Ghoyane Drohe was won. I found myself with substantial wealth and an even more substantial influence and so I sought to spend it. Much to the bewilderment of my wife and friends.
They could not fathom my spending thousands of pounds of gold on the development of new “trinkets and bobbles” as they called them. They ate their words when they turned out brilliantly of course but I was noticing the profoundly stagnant mindset many in this world seemed to inherently hold.
Convincing the artisans, blacksmiths, weavers, and scholars to actually try and make the things I wanted them to do was irritating. Most simply did not see the allure of innovation, which meant every curious soul I found was precious. I was growing a veritable army of artisans who were operating under my patronage.
‘I will need to stamp that out with my sons,’ I thought with a wide smile as my dragon landed on the cleared-out space in front of the temple. As I climbed atop my ever-growing dragon, my mind shifted to thoughts of my new family here in Pentos.
“What do you think, Terrax? Has Shiera put Daeron and Baelon to sleep yet?” I asked while patting the scales on the sides of the saddle.
“I hope not,” I said to no one in particular as Terrax rapidly ascended above the myriad of houses and buildings that made up Pentos and glided his way back toward our coastal mansion.
I always wondered what it would be like to be a father. I never got the chance back in my old world and I had some trouble dodging a certain barren woman in this one so I only really got to ponder the idea rather recently.
Now I found myself with a rapidly growing family. My first son, Daeron Targaryen was already two years old. His name was convenient for me, I wanted to use the names of successful Targaryens if possible, and luckily for me, Shiera’s father was named Daeron. So I both got what I wanted and also got to win some points with my wife.
I was tempted to bring him into the sky with me atop Terrax when he was first born. Give him a taste early of his birthright, of his destiny, but my rational mind had thought better. I had to be even more protective than my mother was in my own childhood. We were in an alien land, and while I was making allies and friends, it was still nothing like Dragonstone or even King’s Landing.
Then there was my second son Baelon. Named after the spring prince, I hoped that he and my firstborn would be just as close as the Aemon and Baelon of canon. Family was everything in this world, if someone was not your kin, then their loyalty could not be entirely assured. So I prayed to any god out there listening that my sons grew up strong and close.
I would not just put their fate in the hands of the gods of course. Shiera and I had been drawing up plans for their education for a while now. Daeron would begin reading next year and I had every intention of instructing all of my sons on combat myself. Hopefully, they would grow close over the lessons, I could not let my family descend into infighting. Not in this world.
The world I was now living in was a world of pain, suffering, torment, and agony. I would need to be a better parent than I thought possible to prevent my children from falling into the same depravities that plagued this world. I would need to foster a drive for excellence and a desire for greatness in each of my sons. I would not let them languish, it could not happen.
“Perhaps I should ask my mother?” I thought aloud again as Terrax rapidly closed in on the manse I currently called home.
My mother was certainly an unconventional parent but my canon self clearly had drive and energy that most of Westeros seemed to lack. I would raise them my own way but asking her certainly could not hurt. Even if I certainly had no plans to let her raise my sons for me. The last thing I needed was a canon version of myself running around.
“Thank you, Terrax,” I patted him on the back again as he landed. I mentally decided to take him for a proper flight in the morning. It had been too long since we flew more than an eye's distance away from the city. I could feel Terrax's restlessness through our bond.
…
Softly pushing open the door of the nursery, the sight that greeted me was what made life worth living. My darling wife, with little Baelon cradled in her arms while Daeron excitedly looked up from the ground. Shiera was reading from a book I did not recognize but she stopped once I entered.
I wanted to see them before turning in for bed myself but it seemed I had gotten lucky. They were still awake, it also meant I deposited my armor and Dark Sister for nothing in that case. I put them away to be as quiet as possible but Daeron looked like he was hardly tired at all.
“Do not stop for me,” I began with a smile. Not only did I simply like hearing her voice but I was certain my firstborn demanded a story before bed. Prolonging it would only keep him up more.
“Very funny. Good evening, Husband,” Shiera said with a tired smile and I returned one to her. Our lives had gotten considerably busier over the last two years. What with Shiera becoming a mother twice over and my assuming a preeminent position in Pentos.
It was a genuine question of who was more busy between the two of us. I spent nearly every waking moment signing some document, describing my ideas to artisans, negotiating with farm hands, touring lands I wished to purchase, or arguing in the Conclave.
Meanwhile, Shiera always seemed to be doing something. Whether that be spending time reading to our sons like she was doing now, scouting the libraries of our allies for magical tomes, practicing with her glass candle, or helping me manage my newly acquired vast domains. It had gotten to the point that I had not seen Shiera spend any time with her two handmaidens in moons.
‘Perhaps I should talk to her about that,’ I pondered to myself as I shut the door behind me and closed in on my little family. Shiera had been secluding herself for a while now. Another instance of her overcorrecting for her past mistakes. She merely needed to be more cautious around others, not avoid them entirely.
“Good evening, Shiera. Getting ready for bed?” I asked as I moved over to Daeron and ruffled his short silver hair.
“Not tired!” Daeron stubbornly said and both me and Shiera let out a small laugh at that. Hearing Daeron talk was still a strange thing. He had not quite gotten to sentences yet but he was able to articulate some thoughts now. Demands mostly, but some questions too.
“Yes, getting ready for bed,” Shiera said with a stern glare sent Daeron’s way. I could only imagine how troublesome it would be to deal with our stubborn two name day old son all day.
“Perhaps a late-night dragon ride will tire you out,” I said to Daeron and the joyous expression that lit up on his face was perfect.
“Dragon Dragon!” Daeron exclaimed while waving his arms up and down.
I picked Daeron up and hoisted him into my arms but Shiera stopped me before I could make my way to the door.
“Guards, could you step outside for a few minutes,” Shiera said and the guards quizzically looked at me before I nodded and they made their way out of the room. I noted her usage of the new time system I had implemented. Surprisingly, the wealthy and powerful magisters, even the ones who were not all that fond of me. Jumped on the clock when I finally found an artisan who could make me one.
That search had been agonizing but oh so worth it. No proper way to measure time was horrible and it made organizing meetings and planning out my day sheer agony. Now I could properly tell the time with just a glance toward the tower rapidly rising in the center of the city or I could simply look around my manse. As I had a few crude clocks already made for my abode.
“What is up with that?” I turned to ask Shiera and she looked a little nervous.
“What is going on Shiera?” I asked then, more forcefully.
“I just wanted to speak to you, I have been putting this off too long and by the time you get back, you will be exhausted,” Shiera said with a frown and I sighed before setting Daeron down in his crib.
I pulled up a chair from across the nursery and moved it next to Shiera before beginning again. “You wanted to speak?” I asked, switching to Andal. Our staff all spoke Valyrian and she clearly wanted privacy. Andalic was probably our best bet.
Shiera seemed to hem and haw and I could not help but let out a sigh. Ever since the Tyanna debacle and my mother’s historic lecture, Shiera had gotten a lot more demure. It was exhausting.
I loved the woman sitting in front of me but she had a terrible habit of overcorrecting for her mistakes, perceived or real. When she was dropped by Alyssa all those years ago, she became quiet and introverted, hiding behind a shell that she had erected out of a feeling of betrayal. Then, after having her self-esteem restored here in Pentos, she overcorrected again and began to act foolishly brash. Now it seemed she was overcorrecting back toward that sheltered form of herself. Barely speaking with others and demurring to me constantly.
My unimpressed stare finally coaxed some words out of her as she seemed to accept her fate. “We need to talk about dragons,” Shiera said with a frown.
“About dragons?” I could not help but raise an eyebrow at that. ‘Why would that cause her so much strife?’ I thought while maintaining our staredown.
“And why are you acting like this then? If you want to know more about dragons, all you need to do is ask,” I said with a smile before my wife’s frown cut that thought short.
“It is not about dragons specifically but rather who rides them,” Shiera said and I finally caught the meaning in her words.
“Rhaena Targaryen claimed a hatchling three sennights ago, that is your concern,” I finally pieced it all together and Shiera merely nodded.
“Princess Rhaena claimed a dragon while our sons have none,” Shiera elaborated further and I finally understood why she was so apprehensive about talking about this.
“Did you think I would be upset speaking about this?” I asked quickly before we started properly speaking. Was she really so afraid to speak to me? Just how much damage had my mother done to her self-esteem?
“No, I just do not know how you will answer my concerns,” Shiera said with a calmer expression and I nodded.
“Unfortunately, Terrax is a male dragon, and is thus unlikely to lay eggs,” I began and Shiera narrowed her eyes once more.
“Why did we not bring dragon eggs then?” Shiera looked profoundly upset. Like something was gnawing at her.
“Besides being unable to maintain or guard them? His Grace was already quite upset with me. Taking dragon eggs would certainly have only made it worse.” I remembered thinking about taking some dragon eggs. But the main concern was keeping them safe. I had no safe lodging and no children to give them to so there was a serious risk of an egg getting stolen or going cold.
Dragon eggs could be robust, and some could last decades in the proper conditions but to say I lacked those conditions in Essos would be a colossal understatement. It had taken me half a year to get a proper manse of my own, and even this manse was woefully unprepared for the task of defending dragon eggs.
“Something else is eating at you,” I said simply. Shiera seemed deeply upset about something, it was written all over her face.
“Our children do not have dragons Maegor, and do not have an adult dragon to claim when they are older either. Does that not bother you?!” Shiera finally answered my damn question so I could help assuage her fears.
“Of course, it bothers me, but I am not going to let this cripple and neither should you,” I said with some force in my tone as Baelon began stirring after Shiera raised her voice.
“How can it not worry you? Our children are Targaryens! Scions of Old Valyria, Dragonriders by birthright, yet their cousins across the sea get their pick among hatchlings from your former domain. All the while our sons are mocked as dragonless behind closed doors,” Shiera descended into a quick rant and I could see why it was weighing on her now.
“How do you know what is said behind closed doors?” I suddenly asked, even though I knew the answer.
“Do not change the subject, you are not daft Maegor. Convince me our sons have a future as dragonlords and not as mere magisters,” Shiera said with a bit of a bite to her tone and I was reminded of the fiery woman I befriended all those years ago.
“Very well, I was planning on explaining all of this in one fell swoop when my mother arrived, but I suppose I can tell you now,” I sighed as I turned my glance toward Daeron.
“With our position more secure in the city, I have called my mother to come join us here. She has spent far too much time alone as is,” I began and I noted Shiera brightening a bit at that.
I had thought that Shiera would grow resentful of the seemingly endless lectures my mother had for her but it did not seem to be the case. I asked her about it once and Shiera seemed to not question my mother’s words in the slightest, taking everything and anything she said to heart. It was extremely troublesome, given my mother’s extreme views.
I had deliberately kept my mother away for a while now. I sent her back after the birth of both of my sons for a reason. I was hoping that Sheira would mellow a bit in her absence. Her returning to her flippant disregard for her own safety could not happen but she did not need to be as spartan as she currently was.
You had to truly enjoy life to make it worth living, and unfortunately, it seemed Shiera had lost that message in translation. Likely due to the influence of my mother. Keeping my mother away seemingly did not change the situation so I would merely have to speak with her about it when she arrived. I appreciated her concern for me but Shiera was my concern now, not hers.
“I plan to ask for her permission to promise Vhagar to Daeron when he grows old enough to understand all of this,” I said with a frown.
I disliked discussing or thinking about my own mother’s mortality, most of all because I knew the year she died in the book’s version of events. My mother died in just a short twelve years according to the book’s version of events. I did not like it but I did find myself occasionally counting the days, even when I needed to dispel the notion that this world was the same. My mother could live to be a hundred years old for all I knew.
I disliked it but unfortunately, it was a vital thought process now. Claiming a dragon ridden by a previous family member was a complicated subject and one that was typically handled with care.
Unfortunately, dragons had a tendency to outlive their riders by a significant margin. That meant that your dragon would one day be someone else's. My mother theorized this came from our days as a small Dragonlord house in Old Valyria but House Targaryen liked to establish successors to their dragons.
Children were typically the first choice, grandchildren after them, nieces and nephews after them, and all familial connections were somehow exhausted in a Targaryen family tree. It would be first come first serve.
All of this meant that I could not promise Daeron a dragon as of now. That was my mother’s decision. I had no doubts that she would agree but I was still dreading the conversation. I hated the idea of my mother not being alive any longer. Despite the complicated problem she had created with my wife, I still cared for her deeply. I had already lost many people in my previous life and I had no desire to experience that same pain again.
“That covers Daeron, but what of Baelon and any other children we may have?” Shiera seemed more at ease knowing Daeron’s future dragon was all but secured but Baelon and any more of our future children remained a mystery.
“Unfortunately, Terrax remains male and we do not have eggs here,” I said again and Shiera looked unsatisfied.
“That's it?” Shiera asked, almost dumbfounded.
“What do you want me to say? Ideally, my brother will lift our banishment and our access to the hatchery at Dragonstone will be restored but unfortunately, I can promise no such thing Shiera. Perhaps we will get lucky and Vhagar will give us some eggs but that cannot be promised either,” I said with a sigh, she clearly expected more but my hands were tied. Had I ridden a dragon like Dreamfyre our problems would be solved but Terrax was definitely male. The Dragonkeepers confirmed it.
There was mention of dragons changing genders in the old dragon lore of Dragonstone but it was a rare thing. Typically this happened when Valyrian Dragonriders were on long-term deployments far from Old Valyria, like to Lorath, Sarnor, or the Basilisk Isles. I could only speculate but I doubted Terrax would feel the biological urge when Dragonstone was not even a day's ride away from his volcanic home.
“At least I do not have to bring that up then,” Shiera said sadly and I could not help but feel the same sadness. The prospect of my children one day fighting their cousins was not an enticing one.
“Let us hope my brother sees reason,” I quickly dismissed that thought. I did not want to ride against my nieces and nephews in the future. Even if I would prepare for the possibility of a Dance. I had to, as a Targaryen not being prepared got you killed, I would keep my plans brief so as to not will them into existence but they had to be made.
“Let us hope,” Shiera said before a commotion outside of the door.
“What?” we both said in an instant. We sent the guards to stay just outside of the room.
‘Did they get into a fight?’ I thought as I handed Daeron off to Shiera and made my way toward the door. Shiera remained seated but looked intently from her position on the chair.
I opened the door to find one of the guards, still clad in their dark gray armor but strangely bereft of their spear and sword.
“What is going on?” I asked with a quizzical look and something seemed off about this guard. Everything from the way he carried himself to the light behind his eyes seemed off.
“Maegor!” I heard Shiera yell from behind me and I knew immediately that something was wrong. Shiera must have noticed it too.
In an instant, my right fist collided with the helmeted guard with a thunderous crack. The bones in my hand no doubt rattling just as much as the bones in this stranger’s head.
The guard was knocked off his feet and sent perhaps a few feet away, sprawled across the ground. But I did not keep my eyes on him, my attention was more focused on the blinding pain from my left arm.
I had raised it the moment Shiera yelled and I only just noticed it saved my life. I had raised it on instinct to protect my neck and it blocked the slash from the guard’s dagger. The metal cut right through my skin and flesh and sliced to the bone with ease.
“Guards!” I yelled, taking a step out of the room to look down the halls but I found not a soul alive. Three bodies scattered around the hall, one bereft of their armor.
‘What?’ I thought before my eyes moved back toward my attacker. Who rose back to his feet and shifted the dagger from his right to his left hand.
“Maegor! Poison!” Shiera said again behind me over the wails of my screaming children and I realized it too. This was an assassination attempt, I could have just been poisoned.
“Perzys!” I hissed through the pain as a vibrant green flame erupted from the steady stream of blood leaving my left arm.
The stream of blood quickly changed into a stream of fire and soon the entire hallway was alight with the same vibrant green flames my dragon produced.
“Call for the guards stationed outside and stay behind me!” I quickly ordered, the soldier within me taking over from the father before. I did not need to see Shiera nod as I heard her yelling over the screams of our children out the window. Surely a guard outside would hear her cries.
I closed the door behind me after that. They would be better protected from the flames there and would not have to witness what I was about to do.
In the time it took for me to gather information and realize what was going on. My attacker had long since stood back up and walked toward me at a steady pace. Dagger drawn and the same sickeningly emotionless face staring through the dented helm.
Paradoxically, I moved in as close as I could get to my attacker. I was bereft of my Dark Sister and I could not let the assassin be alone with just a door between him and my wife and children so I would have to kill this man barehanded.
This assassin seemed well trained as he made no sudden movement at my barreling toward him. I moved with all the ferocity and energy I could. I was steadily losing blood so I had to end this quickly before I tired.
I closed in but he was the first to attack. Aiming another slash of his knife at my throat. A swift step backward saved my windpipe but I gained a new tear in my tunic as the blade grazed my skin.
My attacker seemed renewed and went on the offensive, slashing with precision and speed I had never seen before. Only my instincts honed from hours spent in the yard with my mother and Ser Gawen kept me alive.
I was bigger than my attacker, in the same way, I was bigger than most people, so my ability to dodge in the tight hallways of my manse was severely limited. As a result, I was effectively just backpedaling, deflecting strikes where I could, and dodging slashes to the best of my ability. Using the occasional burst of flame from my arm to create a little breathing room.
I led the man down the hall and glanced over his shoulder just long enough to see Shiera open the door and leave the room with Daeron and Baelon in tow.
‘Shit! Did no guards respond!?’ I thought as I dodged another slash aimed at my jugular.
This thing that I was fighting moved like no man, a grace and speed that betrayed his muscular form left me scrambling to figure out what to do. He slipped out of my attempted grapples and moving closer only invited proper cuts instead of the grazing blows and scrapes currently lighting up on my arms, legs, and chest.
I could also feel my muscles begin to tire. Lighting my blood on fire did prevent my poisoning but I was still leaking blood from the wound. I could not be burned by fire produced from my blood and so a steady stream of green flames continued to bleed the life out of me.
Running low on options, and with another fork in the manse’s halls approaching, I made a drastic decision. I closed in even closer to the assassin and guided his knife into my chest, away from the heart but no doubt piercing something else that was important. A puff of green flames erupted from the wound but it was already too late for the assassin.
I finally managed to grab hold of my attacker. I used my newfound position to grab the wrist of the hand currently stabbing me while my other hand wrapped around the assassin’s neck.
The false guard seemed to realize his mistake as he used his leg to knock us to the ground by kicking the back of my knee. Both of our bodies landed hard on the stone floors and the fires quickly began to consume the carpets and rugs that lined the halls. A veritable inferno consumed the hallways we had already battled through.
The assassin used my lapsed grip from the fall to attempt to reach for the knife still embedded in my chest but I did not allow it.
I lost my grip on his neck but I retained the one on the blade and I finally pulled it out of me. As we grappled on the ground, I was careful to control where the knife was pointed and where he wanted his hands moved as I finally managed to use my weight and size advantage.
I slammed his hand against the ground with all the strength my weakening form could muster and soon the knife rattled to the floor, quickly batted away by my newly freed hand.
My now defenseless attacker was doomed then. I grasped his head in both hands and while he put up a valiant effort, aiming for my eyes and wounds on my person to cause me the most pain. A delightful series of cracks and groans were soon released from the doomed assassin’s head before a thunderous popping sound was heard and I was showered in dark red blood.
I fought the urge to lie down after that. I felt a deep sleep coming on but I knew I had to fight it. I could see the flames transition from green to red as the inferno spread and I knew I had to get out of there. My green flames could not burn me but normal flames very well could. Not to mention I could still suffocate.
I shambled to my feet and stumbled down the hall. I turned off my fire magic then, no longer needing to worry about poison as I shambled forward. A trail of blood was left behind me as I stumbled my way toward one of the entrances.
The inferno was readily gaining on me. The flammable tapestries lining the halls and the rugs and carpets were ready fuel for an inferno and I could soon feel the heat lick at my heels.
“Prince Maegor!” I heard a shout from down the hall and I raised my fists involuntarily. If this was another assassin, I was likely doomed, with ragged breaths and tired muscles, I doubted I could win another bout.
But my fate was not to die then. Three guards appeared from the darkness and helped carry me out of the manse from there. My muscles were losing their strength as they basically dragged me down the front steps.
I could hear Shiera yelling as the guards finally got me out of the manse and I could even feel the worry from my dragon but the exhaustion was weighing on me then. I had never felt so tired and my eyelids were no longer listening to me.
My ragged breath calmed once my eyes were shut. The cool air was a welcome reprieve on my skin as I lay in the lap of what must have been Shiera. I had managed to kill the assassin who had designs on me and my family. Now it was up to Shiera to make sure he did not succeed in his goal.
Comments
Reese Apperson
Also, wouldn't the magic fire cauterize any wounds Maegor would get or is that to much magic for magic fire?
Reese Apperson
Great chapter, can't wait for next week! Love how Maegor pulled a Mountain with the assassin! Personally, I think burning all of Bravos (the only Free City that has no slavery and should be a natural ally) is a bad idea. Definitely burn the House of Black and White, but anything more could be seen as overreach. Maybe as a form of restitution from Bravos, Maegor is "given" a stake in the Iron Bank (like 20% max) in order to tie themselves together to prevent conflicting interests in the future. Definitely at least remove the current Sea Lord, but like I said I feel like burn all of Bravos for this feels like it creates more problems than it solves. Anyways, keep up the great work!
Benjamim Farah
Well I guess Vhagar is going to visit Bravos before going to Pentos
