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A Prince of House Targaryen Chapter 51 (Happiness)
🕑 Added 2023-02-10 20:39:32 +0000 UTC"If you think this has a Happy Ending, then you haven't been paying attention." - Ramsey Snow.
Aemon moves quickly. His Valyria Sword cuts through the opening of his neck. The audience falls silent as nothing but blood fills the ground around the Mountain. Grunts of pain escape his bloody mouth. The Mountain falls on his stomach with a loud metallic sound. With one more strike, Aemon cuts off the head of the man, his head along with his helmet rolling away.
"He killed the Mountain." The whispered words spread through the crowd, snapping many from their shocked daze.
"The Mountain is dead!" the call is taken up by the spectator, and soon they are roaring.
Aemon's shoulders slumped down in relief; hearing the cheers, he smiled brightly. He looked around and saw almost everyone was celebrating. The Mountain was known as one of Tywin's most violent dogs, and seeing him dead on the floor, made many forget the fact that, to their eyes, he was still a bastard, and they were cheering for him.
Aemon looked up at the royal seats. His sister was clapping and crying simultaneously; Arianne smiled at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, but when his eyes went to his grandmother.
He saw she was crying more than everyone else. Her eyes had turned red from crying. At that moment, Aemon felt terrible for worrying her so much; Aemon had planned to use Warging in case he was at a disadvantage any time during the fight.
The septon strolled to the center of the arena, his eyes gazing at Aemon with an impassive look, but Aemon could see that, for some reason, he wasn't pleased with the outcome of the fight.
Why would a Septon care about this fight? Aemon thought to himself, his eyes narrowed slightly. As he cleared his throat, the applause stopped right away.
"In the eyes of the Seven, Jon Snow had proved innocent in the eyes of the gods." He spoke with an old tired voice as Rhaegar Targaryen stood up from his seat.
"Jon Snow, you're free from the charges against you. You're found not guilty." He spoke while sending a glare toward House Tully, his voice booming like a horn of war.
"Yay!" The Northern lords cheered for Aemon, and the prince felt a warm feeling on his chest; seeing so many people cheering for him felt warm and good. To have so many people look at him with admiration.
Aemon's eyes went to the fishes. He smirked; seeing the faces of House Tully was more than enough for him. Cersei's face had turned red with anger, holding the hand of her worthless son in her lap, her veins visible on her forehead. Aemon saw that, unlike his mother, Joffrey was solely looking at the Mountain's corpse. A few crows had already gathered around the corpse, their beaks nibbling on the meat around the severed head and the eyes since it was the softest part of the head.
Edmure Tully's face had turned red slightly, somehow keeping it together in front of many people.
Aemon didn't need to look at Tywin Lannister to know that despite his calm face, he was furious, but unlike Cersei, his anger was mainly directed at his own daughter.
When Cersei had informed him that she wanted the Mountain to be Joffrey's champion, Tywin had first refused. He needed him somewhere else, but since losing this trial meant shaming House Tully. In a way him, Tywin had complied without much complaint, but now looking at the corpse of the Mountain. Tywin could do nothing but clench his teeth in anger, his hands resting on his lap. His hands had become fists. His knuckles had turned white.
His son Jaime and grandson Loren looked at this whole thing with uncertainty. Tywin, at that moment, decided to have a meeting with Cersei. She had been acting on her own accord for far too long. Tywin knew that in the eyes of the Seven, House Tully had lied, and they had lied to the Royal Family. There would have consequences for House Tully.
Back to the arena, Aemon was engulfed by a warm hug, her beautiful blonde hair, and the scent of snow in his nose. He kissed the lips of the woman he loved right there in front of so many people. Many cheered for the young couple, pulling away, his grey eyes looking at pale blue eyes.
"Tonight, you will have a reward, my warrior." She whispered with a husky tone sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Soon everyone went their ways, tomorrow would be the Melee, and everyone's spirits were high for the upcoming Melee.
Five servants moved over to The Mountain's corpse, but before they could reach it and move it away to clean it. Kessa landed right there, startling almost everyone. Her size was alarming for the Kingsguards, who unsheathed their swords. The Royal Family was mesmerized by the size of the eagle; Aemon wondered why she was here when she used her fangs to pick up the body before flying away, much to the shock of everyone, leaving only the head behind.
Almost all the Northern lords laughed out loud at what just participated. The servants looked at one another before picking up the head along with the helmet.
Later
After the whole ordeal was over, the feast had started as usual, but this night The Northern Houses were much more louder than usual, and Aemon was stuck in the middle of their celebration. With Great Jon trying to convince Aemon to drink Northern Ale to humor them, he decided to taste it. It was a strong drink, but nowhere near the level of Tormund's Drinks.
Drinking it with one gulp before slamming the jug on the table's surface, followed by all the lords cheering, Aemon felt the terrible taste wash over his mouth and throat. He gulped it down, ignoring the appalling taste. He was never into ale.
"With you, Jon, we have the Melee in our hands," Small Jon boasted, slapping Aemon's shoulders, almost making him fall from the chair. The prince knew his grandmother was often looking in his direction, perhaps wanting to see if he would get drunk and start acting like a fool.
Aemon's eyes went to Val. She was talking with all the She-Bears of Maege Mormont. Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle, and Lyanna. Aemon smiled, he was happy to see that Val had found friends, and those from House Mormont were perfect for her. He noticed that, unlike them, Val was drinking water with lemon instead of Ale or Wine like everyone else.
Aemon felt a little dizzy. He could hear Arya talking with Bran about Knights. The prince wondered whenever Arya thought of entering the Melee In secret to surprise everyone. He could almost see it, a small knight entering the Melee.
Hearing Lord Manderly laugh made Aemon look at Lord Stark; after the Trial by Combat ended, Lord Stark had been called by the King along with Edmure Tully to discuss something; whatever they discussed, Aemon didn't really care, and with the ale added to that, he felt like just walking outside, and take a breath of fresh air. But he had noticed that Lady Stark had been in a bad mood the whole day. When his eyes went to Robb, he noticed that his whole attention wasn't on his bride sitting right next to him but instead at the Dornish Table. When Aemon followed where his eyes were looking, he saw a girl with violet eyes looking back at him.
Aemon didn't know the girl, but her dark hair and chin reminded Aemon of Lord Stark. Briefly, he wondered if she was in any way related to him. Lady Wynafryd was trying to talk with Robb, but it seemed his brother wasn't interested in her talks. This made Aemon frown slightly.
"Tell us, Jon. How was it like slaying the Mountain?" Small Jon exclaimed suddenly with another slap on the shoulder. It seemed he had made it his life's mission to have Aemon at the center of the attention this night.
Thankfully, his savor came in the form of Maege Mormont, who cleared her throat loud enough for everyone in the Northern Table to hear. This made Small Jon stumble a little.
"Perhaps, Jon has better things to do than talk with a drunk like you," She spoke sharply. Just the way her eyes would look at them made many gulp despite her age; Maege was a known warrior that, even to this day, could crack many skulls with her eyes closed.
Robb Stark
He tried very hard, but his eyes kept looking at the beauty that was Alyanna. He had met her yesterday, and he had been captivated by her right away. Just the way she talked and her violet eyes were mesmerizing, she smelled Lavender, and her face was simply perfection. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen put to shame every other girl. Yesterday, he had spent hours in her company, even getting late for his meeting with Wynafryd, but to Robb, this was all worth it.
Despite his protests, his mother had all but ordered him to spend time with Wynafryd tonight. Robb didn't understand why he needed to be with her all the time. He just wanted some time alone with someone else. His eyes instinctively went to Aly. The moment her violet eyes met his, Robb felt as if his heart had skipped a beat. His breath stuck in his throat just by her eyes alone.
"Robb?" The voice of his betrothed made him escape his thoughts, forcing himself, his eyes turned to her brown eyes.
"What?" Robb asked, a little harsher than he had intended. Wyna's smile wavered slightly.
"I just wanted to ask if we could dance together, my lord," Wyna spoke, her voice almost a whisper, with a downcast look.
Robb forced himself not to frown, he had wanted to have the first dance with Aly, but he knew his duty, and he had promised his father before leaving Winterfell that he would be better and a lord he would be proud of.
"Of course, Wyna," Robb spoke sweetly, grabbing her hand with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. The girl's face brightened once she heard his voice, smiling back at him. Her whole face was smiling.
Soon, the dancing started. Robb knew he needed to dance with her; standing up along with her, his hand holding hers, he led her to the sea of people dancing. His arms around her, his eyes looking at Wyna's plain eyes. The more they danced, the more Robb wanted to see her again.
After the second dance, Robb walked Wyna back to their table. His father gave Robb a nod of approval. The third dance was with Lyra Mormont. The girl was one year younger than him, but once he finished the dance, Robb made his way over to Alyanna Dayne.
"Robb!" She said, pleased to see him standing up; Robb had to admit that her purple dress made her look even more beautiful, and her eyes were glittering. She looked like a beautiful star in the night sky.
"A Dance, my lady?" Robb asked with a broad smile. When her soft hand grabbed his, he felt his heart beating faster.
Sansa Stark
"Do you think I can have a dance with your brother?" Jeyne asked her as Sansa's eyes lingered on Lord Loren Lannister.
Her friend's voice made her escape her romantic thoughts, turning to look at her friend with a furrowed brow.
"Robb is dancing with Lady Manderly," Sansa pointed out as if it was obvious before pointing at Robb, who was dancing with Wynafryd. My brother looks happy, Sansa thought. She couldn't wait until Wyna became her sister-in-law.
Her friend shook her head with a giggle. "I meant your other brother," she said with a hint of annoyance, making Sansa even more confused before looking at Bran. Her brother was still too young to dance and was busy talking with Lady Meera Reed.
"I meant Jon Snow," Jeyne added, already knowing that Sansa had misunderstood her once again.
Sansa turned to look at her as if she couldn't recognize her. "What?!" She asked incredulously to her friend.
Jeyne motioned for Sansa to keep it down since her shout had drawn the attention of a few nearby ladies and lords.
"He's a bastard!" She all but shouted, wrinkling her nose.
"I know that, Sansa, but haven't you seen how he killed the Mountain? He's extremely handsome, like the king," Jeyne said with a hushed tone.
Sansa gasped in horror, her mind failing to understand how someone could find a bastard good-looking. They were born from sin and lust. Therefore they were people not acknowledged by the Seven and comparing said bastard to the King, who was the most handsome man Sansa had ever seen.
"Jeyne, don't say that; people shouldn't hear you comparing the bastard with a King," Sasha spoke with a lower tone. Her friend pursed her lips into a thin line, and it seemed she wanted to say something to counter her opinion, but Sansa knew her weak point.
"And don't forget your father won't be pleased with you having feelings for Jon, and he's married to that animal from beyond the wall," Sansa added, knowing her friend would never do something to displease her father, not out of fear, but out of respect and love.
Jeyne let out a huff after Sansa reminded her that her father would never approve of it.
Sansa smiled triumphantly to see her friend see reason. She was about to ask if she wanted to talk about Lord Loren when a cough made Sansa look at a Lord standing right in front of their table.
"My lord?" Sansa spoke with courtesy and smiled just as her mother had taught her.
"I'm Domeric Bolton. I would like a dance with you, Lady Sansa." Domeric said with courtesy and a good-looking smile. Despite hearing tales about their customs, Sansa's heart fluttered at the handsome man.
"Of course, my lord." Sansa accepted, grabbing his hand. His fingers felt soft as he led her to the center of the dancing floor. His left hand moved to her waist, the other holding her hand gently.
"Do you like the South, My Lady?" Domeric asked with a smile, showing his beautiful teeth.
Sansa thought Domeric was exceptionally handsome. His hair is a mass of lazy dark curls and ringlets which tumble over his eyes. His eyes were big and looked almost mismatched eyes, one almost dark, the other was a shade of dark blue, almost like looking at the sea during the night.
Sansa felt herself withdrawn to them, like a bee to honey. "I do, my lord. The South is everything I have expected and more." Sansa said, still with a courtesy tone.
"It is beautiful, isn't it, to look at gardens. Harrenhal is a good castle, but Highgarden is one of the most beautiful places in the South." Domeric spoke softly, whirling her around, Sansa felt like she would fall, but Domeric caught her before she could; Sansa felt her heart beating faster, looking at his eyes.
"You like the South, my lord?" Sansa asked, almost not believing it. She was surprised that he, a Northern, showed interest in the South just like her.
"Of course I do, my lady. I was a squire for three years in the Vale for Lord Horton Redfort, his son took me south, in Tourneys, and Highgarden was amongst the places I visited." Domeric spoke with a low, soft, beautiful voice, almost like singing in the end. Sansa remembered that he had been amongst those that were in the Singing Competition. She wondered if he could sing her a song when they were alone.
"Can you tell me more about the South?" Sansa asked with a dreamy look in her eyes.
Domeric leaned a bit closer to Sansa; he smelled like fresh flowers. "Whatever my lady wants."
Aemon Targaryen
"Is it true that your sword is Valyrian Steel?" The voice of Lord Bolton cut through the air like a cold knife.
Aemon turned to look at the man whose cells were said to be filled with coats made of human skin, their dungeon so deep that the screams wouldn't be heard outside. Looking at him, Aemon thought he looked more like a ghost.
Roose has pasty skin and a pallid chest. His fingers were short. His face was plain, beardless, and ordinary, with his only noticeable feature being his strange eyes, paler than stone and darker than milk, like two white moons. His lips were thin, so thin that when he pursed his lips, they seemed to disappear.
"Yes. My lord." Aemon answered with a hint of wariness in his voice, something Lord Bolton noted but didn't comment on it.
"Where did you find such a worthy sword?" Roose questioned with a low, calm tone; Aemon noticed that the talk of Valyrian Steel Sword had brought the attention of many lords.
"I found it in my travels, my lord," Aemon answered vaguely, his answer short and sharp; Roose looked at him with a calculating look.
"Has a name?"
"Wolf's Blood. Lord Stark told me I could keep it since I found it." Aemon answered, with Lord Stark nodding along when he received looks from many in the Northern Table.
"With what you showed today, you showed that you're worthy of that blade. Not many people can say they have killed a man like The Mountain. Not even Robb Stark has shown such worthiness, but I'm sure he will tomorrow. If you can defeat the Mountain, then I have no doubt Lord Robb is even better." Roose Bolton spoke, with a slower pace, his voice low and calm.
His words made many lords look at each other with uncertainty; Aemon noticed that Robb was dancing with the girl with violet eyes and not really paying attention to what they were talking about. He seemed to be in a world of its own.
"I'm sure Lord Robb will prove his worthiness," Aemon answered sharply, no longer wanting to stay in the feast. He noticed the glare he got from Lady Stark, but he had grown enough not to care what Lady Fish thought.
Rhaegar Targaryen
After the feast, his mother told him he needed him in her chambers. Once he arrived there, he saw her writing something on a piece of paper; once he closed the door, his mother stopped writing before putting the quill back on the inkwell stock lying on the desk.
"You asked for me?" Rhaegar asked as he walked up in front of her desk, feeling like a little kid who was caught stealing cake in the kitchen.
"We need to talk about you letting House Tully go unpunished," she spoke with venom, standing up from her chair.
Rhaegar's hand went through his hair in frustration. "What did you expect me to do, mother? Do I need to remind you that House Lannister is the richest house in Westeros? Removing House Tully from its place as Lord Paramount would be an insult. The last thing the realm needs is another War." Rhaegar said, getting tired of this, trying hard for his mother to see that War should be avoided at all costs.
Rhaegar chooses Lyanna Stark, and the Realm bleeds for it. Rhaegar heard the words clear in his head; whenever he slept, he dreamed of them, a mountain of bones reaching out to him.
Rhaegar heard his mother sigh. "House Tully needs to know that they can't just lie to us. What message do we send if a House can just lie to us without repercussion? We are the ones in charge, not them." His mother spoke with a hint of rage in her voice.
Rhaegar wondered if there was something he was missing. His mother was always protective of their house and status, which is to be expected, but now she acted as if the entire House Tully deserved to be executed for this crime; Rhaegar couldn't help but feel that she was overreacting unless there was something he was missing.
"Mother. I don't want to hear more of this. House Tully and House Clegane will pay a fine for false accusations against House Stark and lying to the Royal Family. I believe that is more than enough punishment." Rhaegar said with a tone clearly indicating that he wanted this conversation to be over.
Normally, House Tully would need to give the money to Jon Snow, but since he was a bastard, the money would go to Lord Stark instead. If Lord Stark wanted to provide him with the money, it was up to him.
His mother gave him a look as if she was disappointed in him, Rhaegar felt his heart hurt to see her look at him like that, but he simply wanted to leave this world knowing that his Son's future was secured, and he could rest knowing his son would be happy.
Or maybe I'm just a Fool, he thought. The future was unknown; anything could happen that could change everything; Rhaegar knew all he could do was do what he thought was right as King of Westeros.
"What if it was your son?"
Rhaegar blinked, her voice making him escape his thoughts, his tired purple eyes looking at her rich purple eyes.
"What?" Rhaegar asked, feeling as if he hadn't heard her right.
"What if it was your son who was accused? Would you still act like this?" His mother repeated, her jaw clenched tightly, her teeth almost breaking.
"Mother, what are you talking about?" Rhaegar couldn't help but ask. He didn't understand where she was trying to go with this. Whether Jon Snow was truly guilty was a different matter. Still, if House Tully had put false accusations on Aegon, he would have executed or sent Cersei Lannister to the silent sisters, Joffrey to the wall, same for Sandor Clegane.
His mother opened and closed her mouth several times as if wanting to say something, he saw her mouth move, murmuring something under her breath, but he didn't hear her.
"What?"
"Naught that you need to concern yourself with, my son." Her voice changed from anger to one filled with sweetness.
"My son." She said as she moved around her desk, standing in front of him; Rhaegar raised an eyebrow as she hugged him close. He felt like a kid again, significantly when she patted his head.
"I'm not a kid, muna," Rhaegar said with a childish voice.
"You will always be my son, no matter how old you get." Kissing his cheek, she walked back to her desk, picking up the quill from the inkwell stock.
"Rhaegar, tomorrow after the Melee. I want all of you to come to my chambers. I need to tell you all something."
"What?" Rhaegar asked, wondering what could be so important to include everyone.
"After The Melee."
Aemon Targaryen
Laying naked on his bed, he felt the warmth of Val, she was born in the True North, yet her body was so warm. Her arms around him, one arm under his head, the other around his chest, caressing his naked chest, her lips on his neck, giving him soft kisses before sucking on his pulse, her feet working on his hard cock, even after five rounds of making love, it seemed Val was hungry for more, his cum was dripping from her cunt.
"Jon. I need to tell you something," her voice low and sweet like honey, like her hair, she had the scent of snow in her. Despite being deep in the South, to Aemon, she still smelled like Snow.
"What is it?" Aemon asked with a silly grin on his face, kissing her nose. She giggled at his gesture before rolling him, so he was face to face. Her nose brushed off with his, her beautiful smile on her face. His hand caressed her long blonde hair.
"Your hair is so beautiful," Aemon said, his hand grabbing a strand of her hair before letting it fall off slowly. His eyes found hers, his lips found hers, her lips parted slightly, his tongue seeking entrance. She opened her mouth, her tongue intervening with his, his hand squeezing her large soft bosom, filling his hand, a moan escaped her mouth as he squeezed her pink nipple, but she suddenly pulled away; Aemon tried to follow her lips, but she was out of reach.
She gently grabbed his right hand, guiding it to her belly; Aemon felt his heart beating faster.
"I'm with child, Jon." She said before swallowing a huge breath, holding his hand tightly as if afraid that he would pull his hand away.
For a good minute, Aemon didn't know what to say until he found his voice to speak. "Are you certain?"
"...Yes, Lady Maege checked me this morrow," Val confirmed, her voice cracking slightly. Aemon didn't know what else to do, his heart beating faster than ever before. He kissed her lips lovingly before kissing her bare belly.
"You're happy?"
At that moment, Aemon realized that she sounded afraid, something he had never heard from her voice.
"Of course, my love. This is our child, made out of love. Our treasure." Aemon said with the broadest smile on his face. He didn't know what else to do but hold her close, kissing the top of her head.
"What do you want to be?"
"I want a strong boy, but I wouldn't mind a girl," Val answered, kissing his neck as Aemon held her close. At that moment, Aemon felt like the happiest man in the world. He felt as if things would only get better for him.
None saw the crow looking at them from the window before flying away.
Comments
TheWateringWizard
I hope Domeric is true and wasn’t dancing with Sansa because of some plot from Roose. Usually Domeric is or dead or against Roose and that fucking animal Ramsay…
Kyle Loomis
Even though this fic’s Sansa is deeply invested in southron propaganda, and is therefore more frustrating than many other fanfics, I’ll still be saddened if this Domeric takes after his father and is actually a wicked character hiding behind a kind facade. Stories where the Starks reveal the Boltons’ treachery and cruelty and bring justice to them are always welcomed, even if such plot developments are commonly used among the fandom.
Darth Glorius
Is Sansa jelaous for Jon?
Pen Jr. Jr.
I know it's probably not going to happen, but please don't fridge Val or Baby.
Winter
The time has come
