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| Author's Note:I'm content to announce that we have once again reached the rankings during the first few hours of the previous chapter release.
Now the question is, will we hold any value in them, going foward? Who knows! Perhaps if you send me some stones as motivation, it may work in our favor!
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No quote today, instead, have some age reminders for this chapter:
The year is 81AC:
- Aenys is 6 sunturns;
- Rhaenys is 7 sunturns;
- Viserys is 4 sunturns;
- Gael is 1 sunturn;
- Daemon is a newborn.
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- The year is 81 AC, inside the birthing chamber of Alyssa Targaryen, Red Keep:
Aenys ran.
He ran past the gilded doors, past the worried voices calling his name, past the guards who, for once, did not move to stop him. His breath hitched, his heart pounded, but none of it mattered.
His mother had been screaming for hours,— long, awful hours,— and no one had let him see her. Not when he cried, not when he begged, not when he kicked at the door with all the fury his six-sunturns-old self could muster.
But now the screams had stopped, and now, there was only silence. Terror clutched at his small chest, and with a final burst of speed, he burst into the chamber, his voice high and desperate.
"Mother!" The heavy scent of sweat, blood, and lavender water filled his nose as he spotted her, pale and weary, upon the great bed. The soft candlelight caught in her silver hair, damp against her forehead, and when her violet eyes turned toward him, they were hazy with exhaustion.
Alyssa Targaryen blinked in surprise.
"Aenys…? What's the matter, dear?" The moment she spoke, he was on her, clambering onto the bed and pressing himself against her side. His small hands clung to the fabric of her nightgown, his little body curled against her warmth, as if to assure himself that she was real.
"I was scared for you." he mumbled against her, "I heard you scream a lot, and no one would let me see you..." Alysanne, his grandmother, let out a soft sigh from where she sat beside Alyssa, gently dabbing at her daughter's forehead with a damp cloth.
The Queen had been through this before,— too many times to count,— and she had seen the fear in her grandson's eyes before, when Alyssa had given birth to Viserys a few years back.
"Oh, my sweet darling." Alyssa whispered, one weak arm curling around him, though her strength was barely enough to hold him.
Aenys barely noticed the disapproving look the Maester gave him for being so rough. He didn't care, she was warm, she was breathing, and that was all that mattered.
The chamber doors opened once more, and heavy bootfalls rushed toward them.
"Alyssa!" Baelon breathed as he entered, his arms already reaching out, his voice thick with concern. Behind him trailed Viserys, wide-eyed and clutching his father's tunic, and just beyond them, Aemon stood at the threshold, his usual composure marred by quiet relief.
"Love, how are you feeling?" Baelon asked, his hand resting against Alyssa's brow. A tired smile curled at the edges of her lips.
"Exhausted." she admitted, her voice as soft as silk. Then, as if remembering something, she shifted slightly, her arm moving to cradle the small bundle nestled beside her.
"Here." she murmured, her fingers brushing against the swaddle as she turned to her husband. "Come meet our new family member… Daemon."
Baelon took the babe carefully into his arms, his grip firm yet gentle, while Aenys and Viserys both leaned forward, their little hands gripping the edge of the blanket, peering at the newborn with wide, fascinated eyes.
Daemon.
His skin was red and wrinkled, his silver hair barely a whisper upon his head, but his little chest rose and fell with soft, even breaths.
He was so small, Aenys swallowed, his earlier fear melting into something warmer, something softer.
A gentle hand landed upon his shoulder, and he turned his head slightly to find Jocelyn Baratheon, his uncle Aemon's wife,— his beloved aunt, smiling down at him. "A new little brother, hm?" she murmured, her tone warm, her Baratheon dark hair falling over one shoulder.
Beside her, Rhaenys shifted excitedly on her feet, eyes alight with curiosity.
"He's so tiny!" Rhaenys whispered, as if speaking too loudly might startle him, and Aenys gave a small nod. "He is." he admitted, glancing up at his father, who was studying the babe with a look of something akin to pride.
A quiet scoff sounded from behind them.
"Another boy...?" came Saera's unimpressed drawl as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Truly? Do we not have enough of them in our family?"
Alysanne shot her unruly daughter a sharp look, but before she could scold her, Aemon, who had remained silent until now, spoke.
"Careful, Saera." he said smoothly, stepping further into the chamber. Saera rolled her eyes, but said nothing else, though her gaze flickered toward the baby nonetheless.
Jaehaerys, who had arrived with Aemon but stood further back, said nothing. His sharp, knowing eyes swept over the room, landing on Alyssa first, then Baelon, then the newborn child in his son's arms.
He had seen many children born in his lifetime, while some had survived, and others had not. This one… just like Aenys and Viserys, he wished would live a very long life.
For now, though, the room remained warm with quiet laughter, gentle murmurs, and the soft breathing of the newborn babe.
Aenys, still curled against his mother's side, felt his small body relax. His mother was safe, his family was here, and his new brother… Daemon, was here too.
And so, his head rested against his mother's shoulder, his little fingers curled around the edge of his brother's warm blanket.
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- A few weeks later:
"This is a very bad idea." Rhaenys hissed, voice barely above a whisper, though her wide violet eyes betrayed the panic she fought to suppress.
She knelt beside him in the narrow passage, her hands curled into fists against the rough stone of the dragonpit caves. "If I don't do this now, I might not get the chance again." Aenys reasoned, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.
She exhaled sharply through her nose but followed nonetheless, they had lied to the guards, saying they wished to wait inside the dragonpit for Aenys' father, Prince Baelon, to return from his flight to Dragonstone with his middle-son Viserys. It had been easy to slip away after that,— almost too easy.
Not a great idea, though.
The air was thick with heat, stifling and dense like a living thing pressing against their skin. It was not yet noon, but the caves were hotter than the worst of summer, and sweat trickled down Rhaenys and Aenys' back.
Somewhere deeper inside, something rumbled,— a low, distant tremor that sent dust spilling from the cracks above them.
Rhaenys swallowed. "Do we even know where we're going?"
"Yes." The answer came too quickly. "No, we don't, don't lie to me!" she snapped, but her words died as a sudden gust of wind slammed into them, sending loose pebbles skittering across the stone.
The air rippled with heat, thick with the sharp, acrid scent of dragons, and Aenys' heart hammered against his ribs.
"Aenys… we should leave." Rhaenys whispered, the panic creeping back into her voice, and he turned to her, ready to answer,— but then came the fire.
A jet of blue flame streaked overhead, a scorching inferno that illuminated the cavern walls with a ghastly glow, while the heat seared the air, and the both of them screamed, stumbling apart in terror.
Aenys dove forward, instinct pulling him away from the fire's path, hitting the ground hard, scraping his palms against the stone.
"Aenys?!" Rhaenys' voice was distant, panicked, and he lifted his head,— and froze.
Dreamfyre stood before him, a towering beast of shimmering blue scales, her golden eyes glowing in the dim cavern like molten fire.
Aenys barely breathed, this was Dreamfyre.
He knew of her, of course. Once the mount of Queen Rhaena Targaryen, she had been left without a rider for years, confined to the dragonpit, bound in chains, and she had not seen the sky in a long, long time.
He had pitied her before, but now, as her burning gaze locked onto him, he felt only terror. She exhaled, a growl rumbling from deep within her chest, shaking the very walls around them.
Perhaps he wasn't truly ready for this...
Aenys knew he had to run, he had to move, but his body refused.
I should have listened,— I should have listened to them all.
Dreamfyre took a step forward, her talons scraping against the stone, and Aenys stumbled back. His mind raced, scrambling for the High Valyrian commands, the sacred words meant to bond dragon and rider.
"Ly-... lykiri, Dreamfyre!" he croaked, voice trembling, and yet the she-dragon did not stop.
Aenys' vision blurred then, he had thought himself special, a child blessed by fire and blood,— a genius, as those around him had called him. In his head, if he was truly meant to be great, surely, he should have had a dragon hatch in his cradle.
But no dragon had come for him, and it seemed that Dreamfyre would not come for him now too.
She roared, the force of it knocked him off his feet, a wall of sound crashing over him, deafening and all-consuming. The ground trembled beneath him, dust raining down from above. Somewhere, beyond the ringing in his ears, he could hear Rhaenys screaming his name, could hear the frantic shouts of the nearing dragonkeepers.
"Run!" They all shouted, but he couldn't.
Dreamfyre lunged, and Aenys shut his eyes, bracing for the fire, for the teeth, for the pain that would surely come,—
But it didn't, and another roar tore through the cavern, lesser in power but still loud enough to shake the walls of the pit. The ground shook violently, and the sound of snapping chains filled the air.
Aenys' eyes flew open just as a blur of crimson streaked past him.
Meleys? The Red Queen slammed into Dreamfyre with a force that sent dust and debris exploding outward, her own roar a warning that rattled the very walls of the dragonpit.
Dreamfyre reared back, snarling, but did not strike, even if Meleys was smaller than she was.
The two dragons circled one another, growling, tails lashing. They were not enemies,— both knew that a true fight between them would end in death.
But still, Meleys bared her fangs, standing protectively over Aenys. Aenys' breath came in ragged gasps,— his mother's dragon had come for him!
A cry of command rang through the pit, desperate and pleading, the dragonkeepers, and the guards.
And then,— another roar. This one was different, it was way deeper, older. It rolled through the dragonpit like thunder, shaking stone and bone alike, and all at once, the chaos stopped.
Meleys went still, and Dreamfyre did not move anymore.
Aenys, trembling, turned his head toward the distant darkness of the caves. What dragon was that?
The keepers stood frozen, eyes wide with something that looked like reverence,— and fear.
Vhagar was away with his father, Aenys thought, so which dragon would have been big enough to shake everything like that, and even calm the two she-dragons at once?
Had it been Vermithor? If not, then which dragon had roared,—...?
The silence was deafening, and Aenys swallowed hard.
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- Some time later:
Aenys had never known silence could be so heavy. It pressed against his chest like a weight, thick and unbearable, as if the very air in his chambers had turned against him.
He sat stiffly on the cushioned seat near the window, but no heat from the sun touched him. Because his mother stood before him, and Alyssa Targaryen was seething.
The deep furrow between her brows, the tautness of her jaw,— he had seen her angry before, but never like this, and never at him.
It was not just fury that darkened her violet eyes, it was disappointment, and that was worse.
"You could have died, Aenys." The words cut deeper than any blade, and he flinched, fingers twisting together in his lap, but before he could stammer out a response, Alyssa turned sharply to Rhaenys, who sat beside him, shoulders squared but jaw clenched in defiance. "And you. You know better, Rhaenys,— or I thought you did."
Rhaenys' hands curled into fists against her skirts. "I,—..."
"Do not lie to your Aunt." Jocelyn snapped, standing with arms crossed beside her husband. "You did not stop him, and that makes you just as foolish." Rhaenys shut her mouth, and Aenys swallowed the knot in his throat, heart hammering against his ribs.
His uncle Aemon had said little since their arrival, but his presence alone was a storm waiting to break. He stood with his arms folded, his broad frame casting a long shadow in the dim candlelight.
And when he finally spoke, his voice was like a blade unsheathing. "Did you even think?"
Aenys clenched his jaw, shame crawling up his spine like fire licking at dry wood. "I,—..." He hesitated. "I thought I could,—..."
"You thought you could what?" Aemon's voice was quiet, but no less sharp. "Tame a grown dragon,— Dreamfyre? Claim her as your own?" His uncle's eyes were unreadable, but his tone carried something close to scorn. "She is not yours to claim, boy."
Heat rose to Aenys' face. "I just wanted,—..." His throat closed, shame burning in his eyes.
"What? Gossip about, oh, how great you are? A boy of six?!" Alyssa's voice trembled with emotion. "Did you think a dragon would simply bow its head because you wanted it to?"
Rhaenys shifted beside him, and though she said nothing, he could feel her tension. He had dragged her into this, he had been the one who convinced her to follow him.
Now, she was suffering the consequences with him, and as Aenys looked down at his hands, his vision blured. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Intentions do not matter when your actions are reckless!" Jocelyn snapped. "Do you know what could have happened to you? To my daughter?" And Aenys flinched, "You could have burned alive!" Alyssa continued, and her voice shook now. Not with rage, but with something worse. "You could have died, and then what happens?"
Aenys bit his lip, but the dam inside him had already cracked. The weight of it all,— the failure, the stupidity, the humiliation,— it pressed against his chest until he could not hold it back anymore.
Tears stung his eyes before he could stop them, hot and unwelcome, slipping down his cheeks as he bowed his head.
He had been stupid, he had been arrogant, he had been a child...
And worst of all,— he had failed,— a dragon had rejected him. His chest heaved, his vision swimming, and his shoulders trembled despite himself, as he tried to swallow the sobs, tried to will them away, but he was already breaking.
The room went quiet, and Alyssa let out a breath, her anger dimming into something else. Aenys however, didn't want to see the pity in her eyes, and he clenched his fists, voice trembling with emotion, as much as a child could muster, that is. "I don't have a dragon!" The words came out barely above a whisper.
His mother stiffened, and his uncle Aemon said nothing. Rhaenys, silent all this time, turned to him fully, eyes wide.
"You do not need a dragon to,—..." Alyssa started, but Aenys jerked his head up, eyes wet and burning. "Yes, I do!" His voice cracked. "I should have had one. Everyone says I'm special all the time, but no egg ever hatched for me, the very symbol of our family!" His breath hitched. "And now,— now I tried to claim a dragon, and she,—..." He shut his eyes, shame twisting his gut. "She would have killed me."
Silence, as the words hung in the air like a funeral bell.
He had thought Dreamfyre would accept him, he had thought she would sense the blood in his veins, that she would know he was her rightful rider.
But she had not, and she had tried to burn him.
Besides him, Rhaenys' lips parted, but no words came, then, slowly, she reached out.
Aenys stiffened as her hand found his, and she squeezed gently. His throat tightened.
She understood, she always understood.
She, too, had no dragon, as her egg had never hatched either. His vision blurred again, but this time, he let the tears fall without shame.
Alyssa sighed, running a hand over her face.
"I do not say this to be cruel, Aenys." she murmured, softer now. "But you must understand. A dragon is not simply given, they choose us, or they do not,— and that is beyond our power." Her voice wavered.
"That does not make you lesser." And yet, Aenys didn't answer, while Aemon exhaled sharply. "You are lucky Baelon is not here."
Aenys swallowed, that was true, his father would have been the angriest of all.
A knock at the door startled them all, and one of the guards stepped inside, hesitant.
"The King has been informed." the man said, voice careful. "He will call for you shortly."
Aenys felt his stomach drop, his grandfather Jaehaerys, the king.
His grandsire would hear of this from everyone, and he clenched his hands together, his heart hammering.
Alyssa let out a long sigh, weary now. "Get some rest..." she murmured. "You will need it."
Aenys didn't know if he could, because the weight of failure, of regret, of that empty space where a dragon should be,— it burned deeper than any fire.
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- A few moments after:
The council chamber was vast, but in that moment, it felt suffocating.
Aenys stepped inside first, his feet dragging against the marble floor, the weight of too many gazes pressing down upon him.
Rhaenys followed, her posture stiff, though her chin remained defiantly lifted. Their parents walked with them,— Aemon, Jocelyn, and Alyssa,— silent now, but the weight of their earlier words still hung in the air.
The chamber doors shut behind them with a heavy thud. Jaehaerys the Conciliator sat upon the throne-like chair at the end of table, yet he did not lean forward, nor did he scowl.
He merely watched, while beside him, Queen Alyssane, their grandmother sat with Gael in her arms, her gaze softer, but no less heavy.
Silence reigned, and Jaehaerys let it stretch.
Then, with a voice as steady as the tides, he spoke. "Come forward, children."
They obeyed, and it was Alyssane who was the first to break the quiet. "You are both unharmed?" It was a gentle question, but Aenys could not bring himself to lift his head.
"Yes, Grandmother." Rhaenys answered.
"Good." Alyssane exhaled, though there was little relief in it. Jaehaerys' fingers tapped against the arm of the chair. "The guards tell me you entered the Dragonpit with the excuse of waiting for your father and uncle, without supervision,— without care." His words were measured, but they struck like hammer blows.
Aenys' hands curled into fists. "Tell me, Aenys..." Jaehaerys continued. "What did you hope to gain?"
The boy swallowed, his throat was dry. "A dragon." His voice was barely a whisper.
A pause. "And did you think to find one in the darkness of the caves of the dragonpit, amidst creatures that would sooner tear you apart than accept you?" Aenys winced.
"You are six namedays." Jaehaerys said, "And you thought to walk amongst fire and fangs as if they would bow to you? As if they would care for your child's blood?" Aenys had no answer, and Jaehaerys let the silence drag before turning his gaze to Rhaenys.
"And you?" Rhaenys lifted her chin. "I did not stop him."
"No, you did not." the King agreed. "Nor did you think to fetch a dragonkeeper sooner, nor did you weigh the danger. Tell me, Rhaenys, if your mother had found your bones burned to cinders by morning together with your cousin's, what song would the bards sing of your courage then?"
Rhaenys said nothing, and Jaehaerys exhaled through his nose. "A mistake made once is a lesson, a mistake made twice is a failing." His sharp eyes settled once more on Aenys. "And a prince and princess of House Targaryen do not fail." The words stung more than any shout ever could, and Aenys' vision blurred.
He bit his lip, he would not cry again, not here. "I only,—..." his voice cracked, and he forced himself to steady it. "I only wanted to prove myself." Alyssane sighed. "Child...." she murmured, "There is nothing to prove."
But Aenys did not believe that.
He had always had something to prove.
He had always been the one without a dragon, the one they whispered about, the one whose egg never hatched. And now, he had only proven that he was not ready.
Jaehaerys studied him for a long moment.
Then, at last, he nodded. "You will not enter the Dragonpit again without permission."
"I understand." Aenys whispered. "And you, Rhaenys?"
"I understand." she echoed, and Jaehaerys glanced to Alyssane, who nodded.
"Go to your chambers." he commanded at last. "And think carefully on this lesson."
Aenys did not look back as he left the chamber. But the weight of their words, of their judgment, would not soon leave him.
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|| Fire & Blood ||
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