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A Prince of House Targaryen Chapter 58 (Father and Son)
🕑 Added 2023-03-25 20:52:18 +0000 UTCAemon Targaryen
As soon as Rhaenys left the chamber, Aemon was left to ponder over the reason his sister wanted to talk with Val. He watched as his sister walked away, her long hair swaying with each step she took. Aemon couldn't help but wonder what was so important that his sister refused to share with him, especially after spending time with Rhaenys. He tried to brush off the thought, but the curiosity lingered in his mind like a persistent shadow.
Aemon's thoughts eventually went to the second dragon Aegarax warned him about. He wondered who this dragon could be. A part of him hoping that it was Sheepstealer or a new Dragon. However, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a sense of dread that perhaps it might be the terrifying Cannibal, a dragon known for its insatiable appetite for its own kind. Despite this fear, Aemon couldn't help but feel a sense of thrill at the prospect of encountering another dragon. Cannibal was said to be responsible for killing Grey Ghost, who had been a wild dragon but a peaceful one.
Aemon didn't want to know what would happen if Cannibal attacked him, and if it were indeed him, his size would be enormous. A dragon of that size and power, and no one had ever been able to tame him.
As he sat in his room, surrounded by the silence of the midday, he was startled by a sudden knock on the door. His heart skipped a beat as he turned his head towards the sound, wondering who could be visiting. The door slowly creaked open, revealing the sliver hair of his father.
"Aemon." His father called him with a warm, welcoming smile. Aemon moved his legs over the edge of his bed before standing up.
As the door creaked open, his father stepped inside the dimly lit room and made his way toward the bed. With each step, his father's footsteps echoed through the room's silence.
With a gentle touch, he closed the door behind him, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the moment. As he leaned down, he placed a loving kiss on his son's forehead, a reassuring gesture that conveyed more than words could ever express. Aemon felt warmth spreading in his chest. He was happy that King Rhaegar wanted to spend time with him.
Rhaegar, with a gentle smile on his face, asked his son, "Did you enjoy your time with Aegon, Rhaenys, and Dany?" He then maneuvered his way from the bed, grabbing a chair before placing it near him. The room was filled with the scent of fresh flowers, and the gentle sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside could be heard. The light from the sun flickered softly, casting a warm and cozy glow around the room. Arthur had already told him everything, but he wanted to hear it from Aemon's mouth.
"I enjoyed it, your gr-Father. Aegon is good with riding a horse." Aemon spoke of his time around the Trident, leaving out certain unimportant parts, like his ride with Daenerys. His aunt could be quite persistent. Aemon knew he would be lying if he denied Dany's alluring charm, for she possessed a radiance that could light up the darkest of nights. A True Valyrian Beauty.
Rhaegar listened intently as his son before him relayed their story in great detail. After they had finished, the king let out a contented sigh and hummed a tune to himself, a small smile playing on his lips. He was delighted that Aemon was slowly getting to know his siblings. Rhaegar wanted to spend more time with Aemon, but his duties and knowing what would happen after the Joust took his whole time.
Planning and even preparing for a possible war, the thought of bloodshed and destruction weighed heavily on his conscience, and he longed for a peaceful resolution to the conflict that had arisen between House Tully and Prince Aemon. He couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and anger towards House Tully, who had unjustly accused the Prince of a crime he did not commit. Despite his deep desire to avoid a violent confrontation, he knew that he could not back down and allow the false accusations to stand unchallenged.
And the new reports about Dragons were coming from the Vale now. He spoke with his mother about the possibility that there was a Dragon in Westeros and that they could claim the dragon and return House Targaryen to its former glory. He had expected his mother to dismiss the rumors just like last time. Instead, she had nodded in agreement before saying.
"I think I might know where the Dragon is, Rhaegar, and could be far closer than you might expect," his mother said vaguely.
When Rhaegar had tried to ask what she meant, her only response was that she needed to confirm something first before knowing for sure. As always, his mother held information even from him.
After his son told him everything, the king hoped his mother was speaking to Viserys. He didn't know why his brother had talked like that, but he wouldn't allow it to happen again. With a gentle touch, he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Aemon, I want you to come with me somewhere," his father suddenly suggests. Aemon furrowed a brow.
"Where?" Aemon asked curiously as they both sat up.
"You will see. Just follow me," his father responded before motioning for him to follow; Aemon shrugged his shoulders before following him behind.
As the sun slowly set behind the towering castle walls, Aemon and his father strolled outside, their footsteps echoing across the cobbled courtyard. The cool midday breeze tousled their hair as they made their way down the winding path, flanked by two imposing Kingsguards, their armor gleaming in the light. The castle loomed above them, its formidable stone walls and turrets casting long shadows across the verdant grounds.
Squires bustled around the stable, preparing for the long journey ahead. With diligence and care, they groomed two magnificent horses, one with a coat as black as the night sky and the other with a coat as white as snow. The first Squire was carefully cleaning the saddle, ensuring it was free from any dirt or dust that could cause discomfort to the rider. Meanwhile, the second Squire was gently brushing the horse's hair, taking great care to remove any tangles or knots and leaving it looking sleek and shiny. The horses seemed to enjoy the attention, nuzzling into the Squires' hands as they worked. The Squires knew that their hard work would pay off, as these horses were the best in the stable and would carry their riders safely and swiftly across the countryside.
Aemon didn't know where they were going, and Ser Arthur and Ser Jonothor were guarding them.
As Aemon walked through the courtyard of the castle, he couldn't help but notice the way people's eyes followed him and his father. While many looked at his father with an air of respect and admiration, Aemon felt the weight of their curious gazes on him, wondering who he was and what he was capable of. Aemon could feel their eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary, trying to place him in their minds.
"Father, where are we going?" Aemon asked again, confused as they walked into the courtyard of Harrenhal that was used only by the Royal Family. He knew his father had to do his duties as king of the seven kingdoms.
"We are going to a special place," his father responded in a soft tone, his voice laced with a hint of wistfulness as he gazed into the distance. The sound of approaching hooves filled the air as two squires emerged from the stables, elegantly presenting them with the reins of two majestic horses. Without hesitation, he took the sword from the soldier's outstretched hand and expertly strapped it to his waist, the metal glinting in the sunlight.
Aemon would much rather ride Ghost, but his direwolf was with Val. Sometimes his best friend would much rather protect her than him. Aemon's horse was a beautiful red mixed with white, and her long, dark tail swayed gracefully with each step. In contrast, his father's horse was a majestic white stallion, its hair so clean it shone brilliantly in the sun. The saddle, too, looked polished and gleaming, a testament to the care and attention both man and beast had received.
They prepared a horse for everyone who was coming with them. Aemon held the horn cap of the saddle with his left hand, taking a moment to admire his steed before mounting it with ease. In one fluid motion, he pushed himself up with his right leg, swinging it effortlessly over the horse's back while his feet quickly found the stirrups. His hands confidently took hold of the reins as the horse tilted its head to look at Aemon, feeling the connection between them, before letting out a loud and proud neigh.
This horse was slightly smaller than Ghost.
As Aemon shifted his gaze to the right, he caught his father's penetrating stare, which seemed to be fixated on him as if he were a stranger. His father's eyes, clouded with a tinge of melancholy, betrayed a deep-seated sorrow that Aemon couldn't quite comprehend. The Prince could see there was a hint of sadness behind his eyes.
With a loud metallic clamor, the gates slowly creaked open, revealing a path leading out of the castle grounds. As the gates swung fully open, the horses snorted and pawed at the ground, eager to be on their way. Together, they rode out into the bright sunshine, the wind whipping through their flowing manes and tails. As Aemon walked ahead, Kessa trailed closely behind. The sight of her lithe figure, clad in a flowing gown that trailed behind her like a comet's tail, turned heads and drew the curious gazes of many castle guards. They whispered amongst themselves, pointing fingers towards the sky where a magnificent eagle soared, its wings spread wide as it followed the Royal Party.
Aemon's senses were heightened as he felt the rhythmic thumping of the horse's feet against the soft earth, sending chunks of mud flying around in all directions. The sound of the galloping hooves was music to his ears as the group rode together in unison, following the powerful and commanding figure of the King. The wind rushed past Aemon's face, tousling his hair and bringing with it the scents of the surrounding countryside, the sweet fragrance of blooming wildflowers, and the rich aroma of freshly turned soil As they traversed the rugged terrain.
The only sound was the soft thud of hooves on the dirt path. The sudden slowing of Rhaegar's horse felt like a collective exhale as everyone followed suit, the horses snorting and pawing at the ground as they settled into a more leisurely pace. The stillness was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird.
Aemon's father rode closer to him, his horse's hooves kicking up dust in their wake. "Do you like the horse, Aemon?" his father asked with a proud smile, gesturing towards the magnificent steed he was riding. The majestic animal snorted and tossed its mane as if knowing it was the subject of their conversation.
"I do. I just need to get used to it. Riding Ghost is easier," Aemon said, petting the top of his horse.
"It seems your friend is following us," His father suddenly pointed out; Aemon didn't need to look up to know Kessa was following them. He could feel the eagle's presence whenever she was close to him.
"She's quite a good protector," Ser Arthur commented, looking up at the northern eagle as they kept riding toward the forest.
"Yes, she's my oldest friend," Aemon added, looking at the Northern Eagle again. Suddenly, the Northern Eagle let out a loud whistle, causing the soldiers below to grow tense with anticipation. But instead of attacking, the bird swooped down toward the ground, her sharp eyes honing in on a small, furry creature who was trying to make a run for it. With a swift motion, the eagle's sharp beak pierced the fox's body like a knife through a cake, and she lifted her prey into the air with ease.
While riding, Aemon turned his head to look at lake God's Eye. The deep blue water glistened under the sun, and the cool breeze carried the sweet fragrance of wildflowers. Where two Dragonriders had fought a long time ago, some said that one could still find bones left by Vhaegar.
The Isle of Faces is a sacred island in the middle of the lake called the Gods Eye, located in the southeastern Riverlands. It is one of the few known locations of weirwoods in the south of Westeros, with most others having been cut down and burned
According to myth, it was here that the Children of the Forest and the First Men signed The Pact, the treaty that ended centuries of warfare between the two peoples. The First Men agreed to settle in the open lands while the Children retained control of the deep woods. Even after the Andal invasion millennia later, the Isle of Faces remained in the keeping of the followers of the Old Gods of the Forest.
The island is today ill-omened, and few travel there—priests of the Old Gods known as the Green Men are said to dwell on the island. According to legend, the island is filled with weirwood trees. Every tree has a face carved in witness to the signing of the Pact. The Green Men tend and maintain the trees in perpetuity. The island is also notoriously difficult even to find, hidden in the mists at the center of the lake - leading some to speculate that the mists are magically sent to confuse and lead away any who seek the isle if the Green Men do not receive them. The Green Men seem to have no regular contact with the outside world.
Aemon noticed his father's eyes flickered at Isle of Faces. A look of shame washed over his face. "Have you ever been to Isle of Faces, father?" Aemon asked, riding alongside him.
"...I have." His father reluctantly answered, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow and regret. His eyes not leaving the small island.
Aemon was about to ask what he saw, but it seemed his father already knew what he wanted to ask. "That place is not important. I thought I was... it doesn't matter, but give me your word. Never go there." Rhaegar spoke, his head turning to face his son.
"I will never go there," Aemon said with a convincing tone; Rhaegar couldn't tell if his son really meant it but didn't pry on it.
As they approached the dense forest that lay near the walls of Harrenhal, the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds grew louder, mingling with the sound of their horses' hooves pounding against the soft ground. Rhaegar, with his piercing violet eyes, his gaze darting from one direction to the other as if searching for something elusive. The forest was teeming with life, with a myriad of shades of green and brown blending together to create a lush canopy overhead. Suddenly, his gaze locked onto a certain spot, and he brought his horse to an abrupt halt. He quickly looked at his son.
"Aemon, how about a ride?" A bright smile lit up Aemon's face as he turned towards his father to answer, but before he could even utter a word, Rhaegar, his long hair billowing behind him in the wind and with a swift kick of his stirrups, galloped off into the distance.
Aemon laughed before following him. The Kingsguards and the soldiers were behind them, with Kessa flying above Aemon, her purple eyes scouting the area for any signs of danger.
With every galloping stride, he felt the wind rush past him, his hair whipping around his face as he breathed in the fresh, crisp air. As he gazed out at the picturesque landscape before him, he found himself grinning from ear to ear, feeling a deep sense of contentment and happiness that he felt while riding with his father. Despite being a young man, Aemon believed he could connect with the rest of his family. He had lost many years, but he would enjoy the rest of his days with his family if he could.
With each stride, his horse picked up speed until he was riding at a full sprint, leaving his father behind. But to Aemon's surprise, when he looked back, he saw his father with a huge grin spread across his face, clearly proud of his son's fearlessness. His purple eyes widened for a moment. In front of him was Lyanna riding instead of their son.
Lyanna! Rhaegar thought, almost saying her name out loud. It took a moment to remind himself that she wasn't there. Soon Lyanna's vision disappeared, and only their son was left. He's just like you, Lyanna, Rhaegar thought, his eyes welling up with tears that he tried and failed to stop from rolling down his cheeks.
As they continued their journey, the vast expanse of barren land gradually gave way to the dense greenery of the forest. The leaves of the trees rustled in the wind, and the scent of pine filled the air. The riders advanced deeper into the woods, and the trees grew more abundant, towering over them like guardians of the forest. As the trees closed in around them, the rider's horse began to slow, its keen senses detecting the uneven terrain below. The ground was littered with little rocks and branches that could easily cause a trip or fall.
"Now I see how you won the Jousting." Aemon complimented his father, who looked tired, breathing heavily and sweating profusely.
"You're just like your mother, Aemon. I was among the few lucky people who saw Lyanna riding a horse when she mounted her horse. She and the horse became one." Rhaegar said with pride towards his son.
Aemon couldn't help but feel a sense of pride welling up inside of him, but he doubted he was better than her.
The trees loomed high above them, creating an almost eerie atmosphere as they followed the winding path deeper and deeper into the wilderness. His, who had been leading the way, turned to him and said, "Come on, it's very close." As they rode further into the forest, the trees began to thin out, revealing a small clearing ahead. His father led them towards it, dismounting his horse as they reached the center. Ser Arthur and Ser Jonothor were far enough to give them privacy.
Following his father, his eyes wandered around the forest. To Aemon, it didn't look anything impressive. As they walked deeper into the forest, the sunlight began to dance through the leaves of the towering trees that surrounded them. The rays of light filtered through the small openings in the canopy, casting a vibrant glow on the forest floor below. The sunlight illuminated the forest, casting a beautiful array of colors and shadows amidst the towering trees.
As Aemon walked deeper into the forest, the rustling of leaves beneath his feet and crickets chirping filled the air around them. Aemon's senses were heightened as he listened intently to the different sounds in the woods, from the sweet melody of birdsong to the scurrying of lizards and the distant howling of wolves echoing in the distance. Kessa was very calm, so Aemon knew there was no danger close to them.
His father kept looking around, and Aemon wasn't sure what he was trying to find.
"Father, where are we going?" Aemon asked, and his father smiled.
"It's close," was the only thing his father said as he moved away a tree branch from his face. Aemon wondered what they were looking for. He stepped on a branch, breaking it, but ignored it.
What does my father want to show me? Aemon asked himself. Soon they found a large tree; unlike the others, this one had a small opening on the bottom. The tree was much larger in length and width than all the other trees. His eyes locked onto the sight of two large branches that had broken off from the beginning of the trunk. To his surprise, instead of growing apart in opposite directions, these branches had seemingly started growing around each other, creating a twisted and interwoven pattern that was both fascinating and perplexing. As he examined the branches more closely, Aemon noticed that the right branch had eventually stopped growing while the left branch had continued to stretch outwards, surpassing its counterpart in size and strength. However, even the left branch had begun to show signs of wear and tear, with its once vibrant leaves now turning a sickly shade of yellow, indicating that it was no longer as healthy as it used to be.
Aemon noticed that just below the point of separation, there were intricate carvings etched into the bark. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the carvings were arranged in such a way that they resembled a jovial face, complete with a wide grin and twinkling eyes.
His father walked close to the tree, his hand outstretched and his fingers tracing the intricate carving etched into the bark and turned to the Kingsguards. Aemon saw as they walked further away from them. Aemon looked at the laughing face in the tree, and he knew his mother was the knight of The Laughing Tree.
"Father?" Aemon asked, and his father motioned for him to walk closer. Aemon walked up to his father, looking at the carving in the tree. His father had a melancholy look on his face. The Prince's gaze fell upon an old white shield that lay beside the tree. The shield's color had faded over time, revealing the natural wood grain underneath.
As they walked through the dimly lit room, surrounded by ancient artifacts and weapons of past battles, his father's eyes lit up with nostalgia. With a gentle voice, he pointed to a white wooden shield hanging on the wall and said, "This... This is where I first met your mother." As he crouched down to touch the shield, memories of his past flooded his mind.
With cracks and crevices now visible across its surface. The roots had wound themselves tightly around the shield, their sinewy tendrils snaking across its surface and squeezing it tightly, causing it to buckle and bend under their weight. Its glimmering surface was obscured by the gnarled and twisted roots that had taken hold of it.
Aemon inhaled deeply, with slow steps, his fingers brushing off against the carving in the tree before his open hand touched the tree.
"I still remember that day. I was with Arthur chasing after her, and when we found her, I was shocked to see the knight was a woman, and I was impressed. Her wildness made me love her and the way she was. She was a true she-wolf," his father said, with a gentle touch, his hand slowly moved on top of his son's hand, signaling a sense of affection and car.
Moving their hands away, His father sat down on a root that had grown near the tree.
"Father, can I tell you something?" Aemon asked after a short pause, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.
"Of course," his father said reassuringly, his gentle grip on Aemon's shoulder calming the boy's nerves, "you can talk to me about anything that's on your mind." Aemon's eyes locked onto his father's, relieved to hear those words.
Aemon could hardly contain the big smile on his face. "When. . . When I was a child, I . . . I dreamed of mother. She would sing to me and sometimes wish me happy name day."
Aemon felt his father's strong arms wrap around him, pulling him in close until their chests were touching, and he could feel the steady beat of his father's heart. His father's warm embrace enveloped him. With a gentle squeeze, his father whispered in his ear, "I'm always here for you, son," before releasing him from the embrace.
"She loved you, Aemon, she always knew you were a boy, and she would have been so proud of you," his father spoke to him with pride in his voice. Aemon didn't say anything to that and just wanted to enjoy the warm embrace of his father. For a moment, no sound was heard until Rhaegar pulled away.
"I'm sorry."
"For What?"
His father avoided his gaze. His eyes flickered at the carving in the tree, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself. "I should have . . . Should have known from the very beginning who you were, when Lord Stark told me that you and Lyanna had . . . Perished. Me and Elia were devastated. I couldn't believe it. When. . . When Lord Stark told me he had a Bastard son, I didn't care. I was too busy mourning for your mother to. . . I failed you and Lyanna," His father claimed, sobbing and trying to hold the tears.
"There's nothing to forgive, father. I would never blame you." Aemon said sincerely. This time, Aemon hugged his father; Rhaegar rested his forehead against his, purple eyes looking at Lyan-his son's eyes. My son, Rhaegar, thought with the brightest smile he ever had in his life.
"A year after the Rebellion, I came here with Arthur, alone, and I carved her symbol in the tree before leaving her shield here, a reminder of the best horse rider in Westeros history." His father said, breaking away from him and touching the old shield. Not even the light of the sun made it shine anymore. Rhaegar suddenly unsheathed his sword before offering it to Aemon.
"Place it here," Rhaegar said, handing the sword to Aemon. As he stood in front of the tree, Aemon took a deep breath, feeling the cool evening breeze fill his lungs. With a firm grip on the sword, he raised it high above his head before bringing it down with all his might. The sound of metal striking the ground echoed through the quiet forest as the sword pierced the earth. The sword now stood proudly next to the shield—A place for a Warrior.
Ten minutes later, Aemon and his father returned back to the others. His father was smiling and looked relieved as if a huge weight was dropped from his shoulders, and so was Aemon.
"We are returning now," His father commanded. They didn't say anything, instead followed them behind, soon walking outside of the forest, the sun brightening up the green fields in front of them.
Reaching their horses that had stopped to rest and eat grass. Kessa was lying close to Aemon's horse. The guards, wary of the Northern Eagle, kept their distance from Kessa, who remained undisturbed. However, as soon as Aemon drew near, Kessa stirred, raising her head, her eyes quickly finding him in the crowd. With a sense of joy and relief, she let out a happy whistle, expressing her delight at seeing her master once again.
His father mounted his horse, and Aemon touched Kessa's wings before giving the eagle a mischievous smile.
"Aemon, don't do it," his father said, his voice firm and commanding, knowing what his son was thinking before anyone could stop the prince.
Aemon mounted her, feeling the softness of her feathers beneath his fingertips as he held tightly onto her. Kessa took several steps forward, her talons gripping the earth beneath her, before with a small jump, she soared into the sky, her powerful wings beating rhythmically to lift them higher and higher.
Aemon's face lit up with pure joy, his hair whipping around his face as they ascended beyond the towering walls of Harrenhal, leaving everyone outside of the castle in awe of the magnificent sight.
As Rhaegar stood on the ground, he gazed up at the magnificent sight of his young son soaring through the air, circling the castle with the grace of a dragon. His heart swelled with pride as he watched the boy's skillful maneuvers, feeling a surge of joy and happiness. Suddenly, Arthur appeared at his side, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he shook his head in disbelief at the sheer audacity of the child's antics. Despite himself, he couldn't help but smile at the sheer joy on Rhaegar's face,
"He does remind you of someone, doesn't he?" Arthur asked his old friend, looking at his King, who left out a chuckle.
"Indeed he does," Rhaegar answered before riding back with everyone else.
Comments
TheWateringWizard
Lovely father/son bonding time. When is Aemon going to reveal the dragon to them? I’m not sure I understand why he’s waiting
Drinor
Rhaegar’s vision was entirely different from what actually happened in the rebellion. Let’s say Rhaegar doesn’t really believe in prophecies anymore due to guilt and shame. Thank you for reading my Story.
Longclaw16
Wonderful to see father and son bonding like that; will Rhaegar bounce back from his fatalistic personality after the dragon is revealed?
