The Red Dragon
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5. King's Landing
🕑 Added 2025-05-12 17:42:43 +0000 UTCGaemon POV
103 AC
Daemon guided Caraxes toward one of the three hills, which Gaemon presumed would be Rhaenys’ Hill after seeing the great dome-like structure made of stone. Caraxes landed with a loud thud, causing the ground behind his claws to tremble slightly. The force of the landing did not go unnoticed by Gaemon, who felt a shock travel through his little body, rattling his small bones.
Daemon dismounted first, and Gaemon soon followed in his footsteps. Only after his feet touched the ground did he dare to look around, as many bald men with spears—though not quite spears, as the shafts were too long—surrounded Caraxes in a circle. After Daemon unbuckled all of Gaemon’s belongings from the saddle atop Caraxes, they made their distance from the Blood Wyrm. Gaemon watched in fascination as the bald men, whom he recognized as dragonkeepers, started speaking in High Valyrian—the same commands he’d heard Daemon use during their flights and takeoffs—while thumping their too-long spears on the ground.
Caraxes at first resisted, his hard tail lashing wildly, growling and snapping at the bald men, but the sheer experience of handling dragons had made these men immune to the Blood Wyrm’s attacks. After a short time, Caraxes relented and followed as they led him into the cavernous building before Gaemon. The sheer size of the doors baffled him—it made him wonder how much manpower it must have taken to make and place those giant doors.
“Boy, let us depart. You can come here another time to watch. I need my rest after this long and arduous journey,” Daemon grunted, rubbing his thigh and eyeing the saddle like it was his last conquest before the comfort of his bed.
Gaemon, after sparing the great bronze gates one last glance, took off in the direction of Daemon, who stood with men of the City Watch, judging by their armor and rags. Gaemon mounted the pony brought for him, and they began riding toward another hill just ahead. From the talk around him, they were riding along the Street of Sisters to the Great Square and from there to a straightway that led to the large curtain walls of pale red stone.
Gaemon listened silently as Daemon and the City Watch conversed about the happenings in King’s Landing during Daemon’s absence. A minor lord of the Crownlands, whose keep was near King’s Landing, had arrived, and the King had held off burning the Old King’s body until Daemon’s return. After that, Otto’s bashing began, which spiraled into talk of new whores on the Street of Silk—something Gaemon chose not to pay much attention to. Perhaps after ten or so years, that kind of talk would be useful, but for now, there was no blood flow for his warrior to stand tall and proud.
Soon, they reached the great curtain walls and entered the Red Keep through large bronze gates—though not as large as the Dragonpit’s. Once his pony was handed to an unknown man, Daemon beckoned him close and began introducing him to the Keep. They were in the yard, which was called the Outer Yard of the Red Keep, and from there made their way to the Middle Bailey through the portcullis, which was soon pulled up at a single shout from Daemon. Upon introducing the Tower of the Hand, Daemon’s face soured, and curses left his mouth as he moved on to other things. There were many buildings—stables, a library, kennels, an armory, a pigyard, and a sept—all around them.
Daemon led him in the direction of the armory, behind which lay the serpentine steps that led to the Lower Bailey. According to him, that was where they were heading. Though not yet tired, Gaemon had to admit the steps were many. The Lower Bailey also had an entrance to the stables—different from the one in the Middle Bailey—as well as the barracks of the City Watch and a whitewashed four-story tower that Daemon told him was the Kingsguard’s residence.
But Gaemon’s focus soon shifted from these buildings to the high walls—tall and thick. Father and son made their way across the drawbridge, the only way to reach Maegor’s Holdfast. Gaemon’s eyes widened as he noticed the dry moat below, lined with iron spikes. The thought of Maegor’s paranoia and cruelty benefiting House Targaryen was not lost on him. King’s Landing could not be brought down if the right men were stationed in the right places—that much, even Gaemon could deduce.
His gaze remained glued to the iron spikes until Daemon’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Show him his rooms, Ser. I’m too tired right now.”
Gaemon’s eyes widened again when he saw the man Daemon addressed. He was donning a white cloak, and though Gaemon did not know his name, he knew what that cloak meant. Even in the far north, tales of the prowess of the men sworn to protect the royal family—the Kingsguard—were well known. They were said to be the finest of the realm, every child’s idol. Not Gaemon’s, of course, but seeing one in person was shocking, to say the least.
“As you command, my prince,” the Kingsguard said, bowing to Daemon before turning his attention to Gaemon. His sharp, stony face softened as he offered a gentle smile. “Come, Prince Gaemon. I will lead you to your room. Perhaps tell you how one becomes a great knight of the realm along the way.”
Before following him, Gaemon caught Daemon’s approving smirk at hearing him called "prince."
The man asked Gaemon about his time in Winterfell, and about Gaemon’s cousin and his Stark side of the family. Gaemon answered all the questions as a child his age might, putting on the act of a precocious child—but still a child. Soon, they reached a room with heavy oak doors, which the Kingsguard opened for him.
The room was large, with a grand bed and other items considered luxuries in this world, though nothing Gaemon had not seen before. He moved with purpose, familiarizing himself with what would be his room for the foreseeable future. Opening the windows revealed a lovely view of Blackwater Bay. From the windows, he could also see the rookery where the Grand Maester resided. After checking everything, Gaemon turned to the Kingsguard, who waited patiently by the door, watching him like a silent guardian.
Gaemon asked the most important question—one that had almost slipped his mind.
“What is your name, ser?”
“Forgive me, my prince. It seems I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Ser Steffon Darklyn of the Crownlands. As a member of the royal family, you’ll be seeing me quite often. My brothers and I will guard you from both seen and unseen threats.”
“Very well, Ser Steffon Darklyn.”
“There is one more thing before I leave, Your Grace. I believe your father may want you to break your fast with the royal family—your family. So expect a summons early, as King Viserys prefers to break his fast at first light.”
With that, Ser Steffon took his leave, quietly closing the doors behind him. Gaemon wasted no time. His legs had remained vigilant from curiosity and caution, but now that he was safe, he made his way to bed. Tiredness took him at last.
{Line Break}
Gaemon woke before the sun had fully risen and was ready to break his fast. He didn’t have to wait long, for it was—as Ser Darklyn had said—the guard himself who came to fetch him, on orders from the new king, or the young king, as he would soon be called. Gaemon was led to a small dining room—small compared to Winterfell—which he guessed was reserved for the royal family's private affairs.
After scanning the room, his gaze settled on two people seated beside a dark wood table. Gaemon didn’t need a second glance to recognize them. One, with a plump build and a silver-gold mane, could only be one man: his kingly uncle, Viserys Targaryen. Beside him sat a woman with a kind, motherly face and delicate features—Aemma Arryn of the Vale, now Queen Consort and wife to the king.
“If it isn’t my nephew from the cold North. Come closer, lad, let me have a proper look at you.” It was King Viserys who broke the silence, beckoning Gaemon over. Gaemon complied, and two heartbeats later, he felt Viserys’s heavy hands settle on his shoulders. The king’s grip tightened slightly, and when Gaemon made no sound, Viserys let out a jovial laugh.
“Strong and big for your age. Your cousin has taken good care of you—good. Though it seems they’ve also taught you their icy mask. No, that won’t do. You are of the blood of the dragon. Ours is fire and passion, not cold and silence.” Viserys gave him a playful shake and released him.
It was Aemma who gestured for him to take a seat, which he did.
Not forgetting his lessons, Gaemon opened his mouth to greet them. “Good morrow, Your Graces. It is a pleasure to see you both in person. And my condolences as well—the realm will miss the Conciliator.”
“Oh! So courteous. It seems Lady Stark and the Maester of Winterfell have not neglected their duties,” said Queen Aemma with a soft smile. “But you need not be so formal with us, little Gaemon. You may speak to us as you do with your cousin Lord Stark, his lady wife, and your other cousin.”
Though Gaemon was an old man trapped in a child’s body, he hadn’t—couldn’t—warm to them as he had to his new Northern family. The Starks were a special case; inheriting the memories of the body’s previous owner and witnessing their genuine concern and affection had allowed him to grow attached. He saw them as family. But this side of the family lacked that advantage. It would take time for him to see them the same way—if it ever happened at all.
“Of course, Your Grace,” he replied, and both the king and queen smiled at his response.
“So, Gaemon, would you entertain your uncle with tales of your adventures and mischief in Winterfell? And don’t even think of playing innocent, lad. Daemon has friends at Winterfell, and by their word, you were quite the trial for Lord and Lady Stark. Now speak before your father and cousin arrive,” said King Viserys.
Hearing that Winterfell had spies surprised Gaemon, but he tucked that knowledge away for later. He would deal with it when he returned.
With no chance to escape—especially since Daemon and Rhaenyra’s don’t sound the type to wake early to him—Gaemon began recounting his mischief in Winterfell. He told Viserys about the time he snuck into his cousin Bennard Stark’s room and stole his boots to fill them with horse dung. But when he ordered the stableboy to “fill horsedung in Bennard’s boots,” the boy ran off and reported to the stablemaster. Soon word reached his cousins, and Gaemon was caught red-handed in the act, giggling all the while.
Viserys laughed heartily, but not as much as his wife, Aemma.
Before Gaemon could continue, Daemon entered the room, followed closely by Rhaenyra—older than Gaemon—with a bright smile on her face.
