Red Keep ― Balerion's shrine...
Aeonar stared up at the skull of Balerion the Black Dread, visually studying its anatomical structure. When he was a child, Viserys would often bring him down within the bowels of the Red Keep to pay tribute to the largest dragon who ever lived - the last dragon who lived to see Old Valyria before the Doom. Teeth long as bastard swords, flames said to be capable of melting both steel and stone and turning sand into glass as well as forging the Iron Throne itself, and whose wingspan was so large it was said his shadow could engulf an entire town when he took flight... A skull that big, Aeonar calculated that Balerion must have measured at least 376 feet in length, 249 feet in height, and possessed a 443-foot wingspan.
No other dragon currently in House Targaryen's possession could ever come close to Balerion... not even Vhagar, and she is the oldest and largest living dragon today.
Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel, even his father... all of them rode Balerion. However, the beast died one year before Aeonar was born. By the time Viserys claimed the Black Dread, the dragon was too big, too heavy, and too sluggish. But more importantly, Balerion was too old. He did not even have the strength to fly from King's Landing to Dragonstone and could only fly around the capital three times.
"208 years," Aeonar muttered under his breath. "The last living creature to see Old Valyria before the Doom. The likes of your kind will never be seen again. Not in this life." As the prince lit more candles to replace the ones that blew out, he heard vague footsteps. He did not even bother to turn around to see who was approaching him. His ears perked up, faintly detecting two people―one male and a female: one clad in armor, the other in formal regalia. You are not even trying to be a bit more subtle, Ser Harrold. Sister...
"Brother," Rhaenyra called out to him.
Aeonar, briefly having his back towards her, glanced over his shoulder. "Rhaenyra," he acknowledged. "Fascinating beast, Balerion. The largest dragon to ever roam the skies."
"Yes, he's very big."
"No other dragon can even come close to the Black Dread himself. Not even Vaelor or Syrax." However, even dragons have flaws as much as they do their greatness. "But what do you see when you look at them, sister?"
Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, confused.
"I'm asking you a question."
"Aeonar, you've been behaving rather strangely. You have been avoiding us since our mother's funeral. The only time I ever do get to see you is when you go outside to take Vaelor hunting or somewhere down here in this... this shrine."
"What do you see when you look at them?" Aeonar repeatedly more firmly.
Rhaenyra briefly stood in surprise. This behavior was not like Aeonar at all. Normally, he would be more like the brother she had grown up knowing. Yes, both were still in mourning for their mother and Rhaenyra was bitter at having been born a woman in a patriarchal-dominated society - but even her intuition could tell something was off with Aeonar. Otherwise, why would he avoid their father like the plague? Not attending council sessions? His seat was the only one that was vacant. Even Alicent and Ser Otto noticed the sudden behavior change. But therein still laid the question. What did she see when looking at the Targaryen dragons, especially the late Balerion? "I suppose I see us," she answered.
"Tell me."
"Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, but they say that because of our dragons. Without them, we're just like everyone else."
Aeonar nodded in approval. "Exactly," he said. "During the First Dornish War, Aegon and his sisters Rhaenys and Visenya marched to bring Dorne into the fold. All the other six kingdoms were brought to heel, so they were the only ones left. But all it took was a prolonged war and one lucky scorpion bolt into Meraxes' eye to bring her down with Rhaenys on her back that ultimately forced the conqueror to abandon his campaign." He turned to glance at Balerion's skull again. "Which goes to show that our dragons, although powerful, are not as indestructible as we were led to believe. They have their flaws, just like you and me. And if we don't heed the lessons of the past, then we'll be condemned to repeat them." Again, he redirected his attention to Rhaenyra. "Do you know why I'm telling you this?"
"This isn't one of your 'lectures', is it?" Rhaenyra inquired.
"You might think so, but it was the same 'lecture' that our father gave me before I was named his heir seven years ago. He spent so much time focused on me that you were often ignored. But you had me. As big of a pain in my ass and the pest you were, you were still my sister, Rhaenyra. I love you. And that will never change."
"I know and I'm grateful. I love you too, brother. But why are you telling me all this now?"
"Because there's a talent laid dormant in you waiting to come out. You might not know it now, but you have a sense of destiny about you, Rhaenyra. That you will one day leave your mark on the world," Aeonar revealed. "As Master of Whisperers, my duty was to lurk in the shadows to identify those in our inner circle and other malcontents who seek to sow chaos to reap the benefits for their benefit. That means having to make tough decisions no one else would take. And sometimes the right choice is never the easiest to make. Every Targaryen must be trained to meet the challenges and understand the burden that comes with being an heir if they are to become King... or Queen."
Rhaenyra stood stunned in silence at what her brother was implying. Queen? But how? And in that tone, Aeonar was clearly up to something if he were to make a statement like that. No, that had to be it. Her brother was plotting. Scheming. "What are you implying?" she pressed. "You're father's heir and my brother, Aeonar. Your place is here." You are seriously going to leave me with these vultures?
"I need some time away from this place. Every good memory here has been tainted by our father's actions. I cannot say how long I will be gone, but I just cannot stay here," Aeonar confessed. "But remember: a sharp mind, utilized in the proper fashion, will always triumph over the malcontent. You must take this time to hone your talents, Rhaenyra. Forge your path just as I must with mine." He then handed his sister a scrolled paper. "In the meantime, I need you to keep an eye on things for me."
"And what is it you want me to look for?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Be wary of treachery lurking in every corner. You will serve as our royal spymaster in my stead."
Me? You want... me to take your place?
"My agents will have already been informed. They will answer directly to you now until my return. But do not worry. I have left instructions for you in my chambers for you to follow, so you do not feel lost or misdirected. And if you catch so much as a whiff of treason from anyone―"
"Heads, spikes, walls."
Good. You listen, but can you execute accordingly?
"But why me?"
"You're my sister, Rhaenyra." Aeonar reaffirmed.
Rhaenyra could not help but form a small, yet sad smile at her brother's words. He trusted her with something as important as gathering intelligence and playing a significant role in shaping Westerosi politics. But she was uncertain as to how long Aeonar would be gone from the court. This was all completely unexpected. First Rhaenyra lost her mother, and now she was losing her brother too? Part of her was excited about the challenge, but the other half felt a growing sense of loneliness. "Where... where do you plan to go? Can you at least tell me that much?" she asked.
Aeonar sighed. "Across the Narrow Sea. I still have contacts in Braavos and Pentos. They still owe me favors," he answered. "There's something else you should know. It might be difficult for you to understand, but this is a secret father told me many years ago." He turned to face his sister.
"What is it?"
"It's been passed down from king to heir since Aegon's time." Aeonar turned to pull a dagger out from the flaming braziers next to the shrine. The blade glowed orange, but it was surprisingly heat-resistant. Valyrian steel. "Look closely at the blade."
Rhaenyra took the handle and squinted her eyes. The message was in High Valyrian; easy to understand, and easy to translate. First, the words were faintly visible until the dagger cooled down enough to read the entire message. "'Hen ñuha ānogar māzigon Kivio Dārilaros, se zȳhon kessa sagon Vāedar Suvio Perzo...'" she reads. "'From my blood come The Prince That Was Promised, and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire.'" What does this even mean? "Is this supposed to be some kind of riddle, Aeonar? You know I hate puzzles."
"I thought it was too. But our history tells us that Aegon looked across from Dragonstone to the Blackwater and saw a rich, fertile land ripe and plump for the taking. From what I remember, father once told me that it wasn't just ambition that drove our ancestors to conquer the Seven Kingdoms - but a dream."
"Pfff! Please tell me you do not believe in that story, do you?"
"Huh! If I can see it, if I can touch it, it is real. But until then I believe in cold, hard facts - not unproven theories based on mere dreams. Father's obsession with dreams got our mother killed. Anyway, according to legends, just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men beginning with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant north. And whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living. When this Great Winter comes, all of Westeros must stand against it. And if the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. It might be tomorrow, maybe next week, decades, or even well beyond our lifetime. King or queen, our kin must be strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. This is the secret of our family: 'The Song of Ice and Fire.'" Aeonar shook his head as if convincing himself of the story's exaggeration. "What father passed on to me, I now pass on to you, and entrust you to fulfill your duty to House Targaryen."
"So... you're just leaving this all up to me?" Rhaenyra said inquisitively.
"Well, if I know you at all, Rhaenyra... you've been itching to prove your naysayers wrong. Here is your chance. A challenge fit for a Targaryen."
"Hah. Okay, you've got me." Rhaenyra said before embracing her brother in a hug. This was different. She was going to miss him and felt envious that Aeonar was going to venture off on a journey of his own away from court but understood his reasons. Yet at the same time, Rhaenyra wanted to go with him too. The two of them – brother and sister – riding on an exciting adventure with their dragons! She felt Aeonar kiss her forehead and flick her nose before separating. "What do you want me to tell Alicent? You know she's smarter than she looks."
Alicent... Aeonar had thought long and hard about what he could say to his girlfriend. That he was going away and would not know when he will be coming back? No, that would only make Alicent worry even more. But to be honest? That was always an uncertain scenario. "I know. Just... try not to have Alicent worry too much. And to please wait for me."
Before turning around, Aeonar grabbed his cloak and briefly pulled the cloak's hood over his head to conceal his identity. In the dark, he would be difficult to see - but as a spymaster, Aeonar would stick to the shadows and avoid public areas where he would risk exposure. His attire was light and easy to move around in, his leather boots were specifically designed to muffle the sound of his footsteps if he needed to be quiet. 'Quick feet, fast hands, keen eyesight, deadly precision,' he would occasionally tell himself on hunting trips. And should the moment arise where Aeonar would need to defend himself, along his belt were daggers, concealed knives, and a bow and quiver strapped to his back with as many arrows it could carry.
"Aeonar," Rhaenyra called out.
Once he was near the closest exit point, one of many hidden escape routes leading to the outside, Aeonar turned when he heard his sister call his name.
"Nyke jumban aōha āmastan, lēkia issa. (I will await your return, brother.)"
"Syt Targārio Lentrot. (For House Targaryen.)"
With a final farewell, Rhaenyra watched Aeonar leave the shrine. Uncertain as to whether she would see her brother again, she vowed to keep her promise. Looking at the palm of her hand, the Valyrian steel dagger was still cooling. But when she suddenly heard the abrupt sound of footsteps approaching, Rhaenyra quickly placed the dagger back into the brazier. When she turned, she could see King Viserys coming into view.
"Ah, Rhaenyra," the king noticed. "Have you seen your brother? I... we have not spoken for quite some time. I was hoping to check in on him to see if he's all right."
Father, you promised to give Aeonar time to recover. Myself included, but trust me - he does not want to talk to you for a bit. "He was here just a while ago. You just missed him," Rhaenyra lied.
Viserys lowered his head. "Oh. I... I see," he dipped his head disappointingly. "We haven't spent time together as a family much... since. I loved your mother... very much."
"As did I. We all did." Although I must admit, Aeonar took this a lot harder than I did. "I suspect the lords will start pressuring you to propagate the royal line sooner than you could expect them."
"Which would prove more difficult. Aemma's passing... still haunts me. Maybe I should have listened sooner back then then maybe she would still be with us." Viserys turned to Rhaenyra. "No one could ever replace your mother, Rhaenyra, not even for duty's sake. But I do fear what you and your brother might think. I didn't intend to make any of us estranged from one another."
"Aeonar needs time. But you are the king. I don't envy you or him for having to put up with scheming snakes daily."
"'Scheming snakes'? Is that something you picked up from your brother?"
"I've... had some things to think over lately."
Viserys could not help but give a small chuckle. "I sometimes forget how alike you both were. You and your mother. I struggled to realize that both my children had so quickly become a man and a woman grown. Seemed like yesterday when I and your mother held you in the cradle."
All right, now you are just being sappy. Rhaenyra somewhat smiled. "It pleases me to hear you say that, father," she said. "You are the King... and so, your first duty is to the realm. Mother would have understood this. Just as I do." She took one last glance at the route Aeonar took. You better come back home, Aeonar. Or I will find you and hunt you down to the ends of the earth if I must. "But I get the feeling that there's something else you wanted to discuss. Does it concern you-know-who?"
She has her mother's intuition. "Yes... yes, Rhaenyra, it does." Viserys adjusted his collar. "When we last spoke, your brother mentioned he'd taken interest in someone he's chosen as princess consort. He wouldn't give me any hints, yet I couldn't help but pick up on a few things for a while." The king looked at his daughter. "Were you aware that Aeonar... might have implied the Lady Alicent Hightower was the woman he chose?" he asked inquisitively.
King's Landing ― Near the Blackwater Rush...
Aeonar had slipped past several guards undetected and managed to gain enough distance to not be seen. His hood still covering his face, the prince had to leave King's Landing - perhaps even Westeros - for his own sake. Aemma's death still plagued his thoughts, accompanied by the growing feeling of anger, bitterness, and resentment that lingered. Even though he told Rhaenyra he might consider coming back, Aeonar was not sure he would even consider King's Landing or the Red Keep home at this point.
The wind gusted as Aeonar ventured the shores of the Blackwater Rush, the sounds of gulls cawing overhead or the waves crashing against the rocks. Yet in the middle of his stroll, he would continuously receive brief flashbacks.
"Ah, there you are. My children. My pride and joy."
"Don't get all nervous. You know your father and I love you and your sister dearly. No one would ever take your place."
"Look at you. Ten years old. So handsome."
"I won't disappoint you."
"I know you won't, son. I know you won't."
Aeonar shook his head. That damned nerve twitching in his head was back again! Now, in addition to his unorthodox behavior, he was certain he was losing his mind. Aeonar was still angered at his father's persistence in pursuing his 'vision' which ended up killing his mother. A bit late for you to seek my forgiveness, father. Let yourself stew in misery and loneliness for a little while longer... because it will be a cold day in hell if you think I will ever let this slide in a few days or weeks. "Damn you..." And Rhaenyra... it will be up to you to maintain a presence in Westeros and do what needs to be done, for the sake of our house. Our legacy.
An audible growl was heard.
Aeonar stopped and smirked at the sight. Resting on the beach - having caught and devoured a fresh marine mammal from the sea - Vaelor slumbered until the dragon raised his head and sniffed the air before turning to notice his rider's presence.
"Emā sīmontan mirrī rōva syt se Zaldrījudiri gōntan daor ao, Valor? (You've grown a bit large for the Dragonpit haven't you, Vaelor?)"
Vaelor sniffed and gave a brief hiss before vocalizing a few clicks, seeming to acknowledge Aeonar's words. Since the funeral had passed, Vaelor had spent more time outdoors flying and hunting than usual lately - but he would always come back whenever his rider needed him. Aeonar held his chin in his fingers, his eyes tracing his dragon from snout to tail as if measuring him and calculating that Vaelor had grown an extra four feet plus a few inches in length, putting him at 143 feet, 9 inches long with a 222-foot wingspan.
Perfect!
With plenty of space to move around, a healthy diet, exercise, and establishing a suitable hunting ground, Aeonar was certain that Vaelor would continue to grow at a fast pace... as shown by the dragon's increase in appetite.
"Issi ao bē syt mirri aerēptan? (Are you up for some traveling?)"
Vaelor growled in acknowledgment, eager to stretch his wings once more. Lowering itself to the sandy banks, the Swiftrunner merely vocalized in clicks to his rider. Aeonar began climbing the safety harness before strapping himself into the saddle and holding on to the harness. Vaelor growled again as if waiting to be given the go-ahead. The dragon had a full stomach, had plenty of rest, and was ready for whatever journey his rider was interested in. Together with Aeonar, Vaelor felt the duo could take on the world.
"Sōvēs! (Fly!)"
"*Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrh!*"
Raising his wings and stretching wide, Vaelor began racing along the sandbanks to gain enough momentum. Bellowing a loud roar, with one final sprint, Vaelor beat his wings and took to the skies once more. Soaring high, the pair - instead of traversing across the realm - turned their sights east and flew across the Narrow Sea towards whatever fate awaited them on the other side.
"Hae vestan, Valor! Ziry iksos sepār ao... se nyke daor se vys. (Like I said, Vaelor! It's just you and me... against the world.)" Aeonar said to his dragon in High Valyrian, his eyes burning with determination. "Sir ivestragī's jikagon gūrogon ziry. (Now let us go take it.)"
"*Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrh!*"
King's Landing ― Beneath the Dragonpit...
"Years of service... and this is the thanks I get?!" Daemon settled the harness of his dragon Caraxes in frustration. Having been sent away by Viserys, the Rogue Prince once again felt denied what he thought was his right.
"*Hiiiiiissssssssss!*"
Hissing menacingly and fueled by an animalistic urge to fight stood Daemon's dragon, Caraxes. A veteran of many battles, he is known as the Blood Wyrm for his red scales, yellow eyes, and beard of horns. In battle, he was said to be formidable, fearsome, and experienced. However, unlike most Targaryen dragons, Caraxes had wing-like membranes on his back legs to support the aerodynamics of his body, which was long and serpentine. From snout to tail, the Blood Wyrm measured 147 feet in length.
"*Reeeeeeee!*"
"lykirī, Karakses! (Calm down, Caraxes!)" Daemon instructed.
Caraxes grumbled, staring at Daemon as it detected the scent of another person coming toward him. The Blood Wyrm recognized two Dragonkeepers but could not make sense out of the third... only the last one was female.
"I've just confirmed with my agents," Mysaria informed Daemon. "Prince Aeonar and Vaelor have flown across the Narrow Sea. Where they have gone, I cannot say. But they're on the move, Daemon."
"Good," Daemon agreed. "Viserys thinks he can take away my birthright? Well, my brother's got another thing coming to him... especially knowing that Otto engages in all of this. So long as he's Hand, Viserys will just take his word over mine." Mysaria nodded but stopped moving when she saw Caraxes staring at her. The Rogue Prince sensed her hesitation. "Give me your hand." Taking her hand in his, Daemon pressed both against Caraxes's lower jaw.
"*Grrrrrr!*"
Mysaria marveled at merely touching a dragon and joined Daemon in climbing atop Caraxes's serpentine-like back. Once saddled into the harness, Daemon gave the command for Caraxes to take flight. The Blood Wyrm screeched and kicked its legs forward before beating its wings. He moved majestically through the air, gliding upwards and towards their primary destination.
Whatever the case, the familial stand-off was just beginning.
"*Reeeeeee!*"