Aerys Targaryen.
Red Keep, Midday.
The Red Keep reeked of damp stone and burnt herbs as I hurried through the halls while my boots were echoing.
A crumpled Valyrian scroll was tucked in my tunic.
My head throbbed from last night's wine, but I grinned.
The words—"Shadows rise from old rites, fast and strong, and tied to a fading will"—were nearly a proof.
It's enough to shake Father, to expose Vaegon's lie. That Aelthys wasn't just a mere Stepstones Warrior—no, this was sorcery, and I'd make them see it.
Father's chamber door loomed ahead, guarded by two white cloaks, always vigilant, their hands resting on the hilt of their swords .
"Move," I snapped, my voice rough, and they stepped aside slowly, their eyes wary.
I pushed in, the air was thick with that sick smell of herbs, sweat and death.
Father lay propped on pillows, his silver hair thin and sweaty, chest rattling with every breath. Shaera sat beside him stiffly, her lilac eyes were red but hard as steel.
She stood very fast when she saw me.
"Aerys," she said, her voice sharp. "He's very weak, don't start your mess now."
"Mess?" I laughed loudly, pulling the scroll out. "This is the truth, Mother. Vaegon is hiding a monster—Aelthys, is nothing but shadow. Go ahead and read it!"
I threw the scroll on the bed, the ink was messy but still readable, and leaned toward Father with a grin. "Old rituals and shadows. he's falling apart Father, and you're giving him everything!"
Father coughed weakly, his hands were trembling as he took the scroll. His blurry eyes narrowed and started reading slowly, his breath ragged. "Aerys," he croaked with a faint voice. "What is this? Old words… what do they mean?"
"It means he's lying!" I said loudly, pacing around the room now.
"Aelthys isn't normal, he's too fast for a man, why can't you see it ? Vaegon says he is from Stepstones, but this scroll says he comes from magic and shadows. He's falling apart, Father—you've see him, he is exhausted and pale, . That orb's doing it, and you'll let him drag us down!"
Shaera snatched the scroll, her face was tight. "Enough," she said coldly. "Your brother is holding the realm together with Rosby's grain, and we'll soon start with Duskendale. All You've got is a scrap, not facts. It's time to stop this."
"Facts?" I sneered and stepped close. "Look at him, he's tired and hollow. That thing's eating him, and Rhaella will soon be next. You're blind—both of you!" My voice cracked, and Father coughed again with blood specking his lips and he dropped the page.
"Peace," he wheezed weakly but sharply. "Vaegon's keeping us strong, the fields are bringing hope for the people. This… it's nothing clear. You're the one tearing us apart Aerys, not him." His hand shook pointing at me, then fell, his breath short.
I glared, chest heaving. "I'm tearing us? He'll choke us just watch." I turned and stormed out, the door banging behind me.
They wouldn't listen to me —not yet—but I will make them listen. Vaegon will not win this.
Vaegon Targaryen.
Red Keep, Afternoon.
I stood in my chambers, staring out the window at the rough, gray waters of the Blackwater.
The orb burned steadily at my belt, it was a weight I couldn't ignore. My wrist ached under the itchy bandage.
The door creaked, and Rhaella slipped in, her red gown dull in the light and her silver hair tied back, her face was pale.
"Vaegon," she said quietly and shutting the door behind her.
"Aerys went to Father and took a scroll with him. He said it's proof that Aelthys is not human and that you're hiding magic. He was very loud, even the guards heard him."
My jaw tightened. "He's got no proof," I said while turning to her with a low voice . "It's just an old page. As i have told you, Aelthys is mine and he keeps the fields safe . That's it." I kept it simple, but my hands shook a little, and she saw it.
She stepped closer and her eyes locked on mine. "Guessing or not, he's stirring things up. Father's weak and he can't fight this. And you—you're not fine. Just look at you—You are tired and shaky. Just tell me what's wrong."
I rubbed my wrist the sting sharp. "I'm holding on" I said, my voice rough. "For us—for the grain and for Father. Rhaella, I'm fine enough." The lie tasted bitter, but I couldn't let it out, not the blood, not the crypt.
Her mouth went tight, but she didn't push. "I want to believe you," she said softly. "But Aerys won't stop, and I see you already started to slip. So don't wait 'til it's too late, tell me then at least." She held my gaze, then left quietly and I stood there, the orb's heat sinking deeper.
Rhaella Targaryen
Red Keep, Dusk
The sky turned purple outside my window, and I paced around my room, the fire was crackling low and my robe brushing the floor.
Aerys' rant to his Father—I'd heard it from a maid and it rang in my head: "Shadows are tied to him!"
That Valyrian page he'd dropped last night sat on my table crumpled, and I couldn't unread it—"fast and strong, tied to a will that fades."
It fit Aelthys and fit Vaegon too—pale and worn like something was pulling him down. But he wouldn't say, he just kept up his "Stepstones" line, and it felt thin.
I wanted to trust him, i needed to after our promise—but the cracks were wide now.
Uncle was dying, Aerys was wild and Vaegon… he was hiding something big.
I grabbed the page, staring at it then tossed it in the fire, watching it curl and burn.
No proof, not yet, but I'd watch him closer now. He'd promised we'd bear it together, and I'd hold him to that, even if it hurt.
{Hello! From now on Chapters will be shorter for better quality }