King's Landing ― Dragonpit...
Deep within the domed structure atop the Hill of Rhaenys, the Dragonpit housed the Targaryen dragons in each catacomb – tamed or yet to be claimed by a rider. Today was another day of routine training for the Targaryen princes to strengthen their bonds with each of their respective dragons under the close supervision of the Dragonkeepers.
Prince Aegon the Elder – now a thirteen-year-old, grew to the same height as Prince Jaehaerys. However, unlike his nephew, he proved to be a lazy, bratty irresponsible teenager whose refusal to behave as a prince under proper protocol soon earned the ire and scorn of those around him. But the elder Aegon didn't mind. He did whatever he wanted without a care in the world. And today was one of those days. Joined by his younger nephews Aegon the Younger, Viserys, Daeron, Jacaerys, and Lucerys, he was to bear witness to the events planned for his younger brother, Prince Aemond. Being the only one without a dragon of his own, he patiently waited for his nephews' boring lessons to be over so they could begin the ceremony.
"Rȳbās! Dohaerās, Korksys! (Serve! Obey, Corxes!)" Aegon the Younger commanded.
Corxes chirped and crouched down, easing himself into a submissive stance.
"Sȳrī. (Well done.)" one of the Dragonkeeper elders congratulated visibly pleased. "Dārilaros Viserys, ao sīr. (Now you, Prince Viserys.)" he instructed.
Viserys cleared his throat. "Dohaerās, Melex! (Serve, Maelyx!)" he commanded.
Like his kin, Maelyx chirped a high-pitched draconic grumble and crouched.
"Sȳrī. Dārilaros Daeron. (Well done. Prince Daeron.)"
Daeron stared at his dragon Gaemon. Along with Vermax, Gaemon was already proving to be an ill-tempered dragon with a fiery attitude, mirroring his young rider. As soon as he felt the chains releasing their hold on him, Gaemon began growling aggressively. "Dohaerās! (Serve!)" he commanded. When Gaemon didn't respond, the prince shouted more firmly and aggressively. "Vestan kelīs, Gaemon! (I said halt, Gaemon!)" he repeated.
Gaemon, once feeling the dominating aura emanating from Daeron, lowered his dorsal spines and crouched, assuming a submissive stance.
The Dragonkeeper elder shook his head. "Ugh... Ao jorrāelagon tolī gūrēñare. (You need more training.)" he sighed. "Maghon hembar. (Bring out the next one.)"
Jacaerys leaned intently as two more Dragonkeepers escorted Vermax to the surface. Now a juvenile dragon the size of a small horse – measuring between 10-12 feet long – with olive-green scales and pale orange membranes in his wings, Vermax grew equal to Corxes, Maelyx, and Gaemon in terms of overall size. But like Gaemon, he was ill-tempered as he snapped at the chains holding him.
"Umbās! Umbās! (Hold! Hold!)" said a Dragonkeeper warder.
"Zijot māzigon. (Let him come.)"
Aegon the Elder yawned bored out of his mind. Yes, yes. Come on, get it over with already.
"*Reeeee!*" Vermax screeched. Once the Dragonkeepers released his chains, his yellow-slitted eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other before turning his gaze towards Jacaerys. "*Grrrrr!*" Grumbling a high-pitched growl, the juvenile dragon slowly made his way to the royal children as if he were stalking his next prey.
"Call Vermax to heel, Prince Jacaerys," one of the female Dragonkeepers instructed.
Jacaerys nodded. "Dohaerās! (Serve!)" he commanded. Vermax got close to his rider, stood upright, and sniffed him closely. The juvenile dragon shrieked, causing the prince to slightly jump back. "Kelīs! (Halt!)" he repeated.
Vermax, however, unlike Gaemon, determined Jacaerys to be neither threat nor prey. Once he heard the High Valyrian commands, he obediently crouched submissively.
The Dragonkeeper elder nodded. "Mmm. Sȳrī. (Well done.)" he told the young prince.
"Nice one, Jace," Viserys said.
Aegon the Younger nodded. "Not going to lie, I almost thought you wouldn't get Vermax to settle down," he seconded his twin's statement. He turned to Daeron. "You, on the other hand, I guess you need to work at it some more."
"Mmmm! I had it and you know it," Daeron puffed his cheeks angrily.
"Yeah, yeah. We all saw that 'performance'," Aegon the Elder yawned.
"HEY!"
"Take it easy on him, uncle. He's seven. He's still learning," Viserys replied.
"Yeah, don't make him feel worse. At least he's trying," Aegon the Younger agreed.
Aemond ignored the chatter among his brother and nephews. Just wait. Soon, I'll have a dragon and you won't be laughing at me anymore. The prince stared down into the Dragonpit; the boy wondered how many were kept confined to their cages and how big they were. Whatever the case, Aemond was determined to claim a dragon. He wanted a big dragon like Vaelor, Vermithor, or even Vhagar. However, all his father told him whenever he complained was 'to be patient' or 'if not today, there's always tomorrow.' But if not now, when? Aemond was a prince of the Targaryen dynasty! He would not be left without one.
"Maghon hembar. (Bring out the next one.)" the Dragonkeeper elder said aloud.
More acolytes brought out the next juvenile dragon, Arrax – who was bonded to Lucerys. Being smaller than Vermax by at least three feet, he had pearlescent white scales and yellow eyes with a golden underside. Arrax boldly snapped at his chains as the Dragonkeeper warders held him at bay. "Kelīs! Pālēs! (Halt! Fall back!)" they strained.
"Arraks! (Arrax!)" Lucerys called out.
"Maghon ōtor. (Bring out the ram!)" the Dragonkeeper elder instructed his acolytes.
The sound of brays and hoofs galloping along the concrete ground soon reached everyone's ears. One, two, three... About five sheep were escorted to the chamber, tied by a rope, and brought to the other side of the chamber.
Corxes, Maelyx, Gaemon, Vermax, and Arrax – in near-perfect unison – sniffed the air, detecting a new yet familiar scent, and turned around at the sound of braying. Once the goats caught their attention, all five juvenile dragons started growling with anticipation and shifted from side to side, baring their teeth, hissing, and firmly locking their eyes on each of the hoofed mammals in front of them. Being placed in captivity, they instinctively knew that meant food. Despite being bonded to their riders and proving more intelligent than most people, dragons were still animals that cannot truly be tamed – especially with the basic instinct to hunt prey. One by one, they slowly advanced on their unsuspecting prey.
"Vermax!" Jacaerys called out. "Vermax!"
"Uhh... I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jace," Aegon the Younger shook his head.
Viserys also shook his head. "Don't get between a dragon and his meal, cousin. It's not a pretty sight," he added. Especially if you're still training them.
"Kelīs! Pālēs! (Halt! Fall back!)" the Dragonkeeper warders placed their staves in front of the juvenile dragons. To their surprise, they were remarkably strong – with Gaemon snapping his jaws and pushing forward, determined to grab his prey.
"*REEEEEEEE!!!*"
"Gaemon!" Daeron shouted.
"Arrax!" Lucerys exclaimed.
Both the boys moved forward, but they were stopped by the Dragonkeeper elder. "Kelītīs. (Stop.)" he scolded them. Gathering the princes closer, he began to teach them their next lesson. "Zaldrīzo aōho syt āeksio sagon aō bēvilza, dārilaros ñuhys..."
"'You must hold mastery over each of your dragons, my princes...'" the female Dragonkeeper acolyte interpreted.
"...hae Dārilarot Āegot Vēsperzomy."
"'...as Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre.'"
"Se hae Dārilarot Jāhaeri Vērmithari."
"'...And as Prince Jaehaerys did with Vermithor.'"
"Zijosy aōt tetirī ozlettosy, toli rȳbagon zirȳlo vindīlza."
"'Once they are fully bound to you, they will refuse to take instructions from another.'"
"*REEEEEEEE!!!*"
Jacaerys turned to the elder. "Can I say it?" he asked.
"Mmm."
"Let's do it, Jace," Aegon the Younger encouraged.
"Yeah, do it!" Daeron seconded. "I want to see them burn!"
"Me too!" Lucerys agreed.
"All right, on the count of three, we all give the commands," Viserys said. "Ready? One... two... three!"
"Dracarys!" all the boys commanded.
Corxes, Maelyx, Gaemon, Vermax, and Arrax hissed and reared their heads back, jaws open. Then, in an instant, all five juvenile dragons shot forth a stream of fire on their prey; the goats screamed and squealed as the flames roasted them alive. Once the flames stopped flowing, each of them vocalized draconic screeches and helped themselves to the burnt remains, eagerly feasting on the charred corpses of their roasted prey.
"Now that's cool," Jacaerys witnessed.
"Oh, we almost forgot someone," Aegon the Younger remarked.
Aegon the Elder nodded. "Indeed, we did," he said. "Aemond," he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, "we have a surprise for you."
"What is it?" Aemond asked.
"Something very special," Lucerys stated.
"Yeah! Very, very, very special," Daeron nodded eagerly.
"Luke, go on ahead and bring it up," Aegon the Younger said.
Lucerys nodded and ran off into the Dragonpit's lower chamber.
"You're the only one of us without a dragon," the elder Aegon noticed.
"Indeed," Aemond said plainly. Must you feel the need to rub it in?
"And we felt bad about it, so we went out and managed to find one for you."
"A dragon? How?"
"The gods provide."
"It wasn't easy," the younger Aegon agreed. "Took a lot of time and effort... but we got one, Aemond. Trust us, you're going to love it."
"Truly?" Aemond asked suspiciously.
"Truly. Would we lie?"
Aemond didn't believe what they were saying. And besides, even if they did, how would his brother and their nephews venture deep into the Dragonpit to pick out a dragon without proper supervision from the Dragonkeepers? He heard something in the distance, echoing from the lower chamber. For just a fleeting moment, Aemond felt his hopes rising – only for them to be dashed when he saw Lucerys carrying a large sow with brooms tied to each side as if they were makeshift dragon wings.
"Behold," Aegon the Elder presented.
"The Pink Dread!" the others presented.
Both Aegons, Viserys, Jacaerys, and Lucerys all broke out into fits of laughter. Seven hells, the elder Aegon thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. Despite being distant from his nephews, he did have to admit they occasionally produced clever ideas for pulling pranks and other stunts. "Be sure to mount her carefully. The first flight's always rough," he mocked, snorting to imitate a pig's oink.
"Ah, oh gods! My stomach hurts!" the younger Aegon wheezed.
"I know! Mine too!"
"I can't breathe!" Viserys choked.
"Check him out! The look on your face!" Daeron rolled on the ground.
Aemond frowned deeply. He couldn't believe he fell for one of their mischievous pranks... again! Every single time, they built his hopes up only to end up knocking them down. Annoyed, he stared at the pig as everyone else began to leave the Dragonpit still making loud oinking sounds on the way out. I'll... I'll show you! I'll show you all! I don't need anyone picking a dragon for me! I'll get one myself! Descending into the lower levels where all the dragons were nesting hoping to find one of the unclaimed dragons, the prince couldn't see what was in front of him. The lower levels were dark, winds from outside near the coast brushing past him as he pressed further inward, Aemond pressed one hand against the cavernous walls to steady himself. Upon turning the corner, he saw a mature dragon.
Dreamfyre, once ridden by Rhaena Targaryen – one of the involuntary Black Brides – more than one hundred years ago, was a slender she-dragon with primarily light blue scales and secondary silver markings, silver crests, pale blue wings, and measured one hundred feet long. Being bound to Aemond's sister, Princess Helaena, Dreamfyre was already claimed, but that wasn't what concerned him. He realized that Dreamfyre was standing guard atop a mound of dragon eggs – her eggs! Sensing an intruder venturing too close to her nest, the she-dragon roared angrily at Aemond and breathed fire in his direction.
Frightened and feeling the intense heat, Aemond stumbled backward onto the floor before picking himself back up and running away with only a face full of ash. He learned an especially important lesson that day: never approach a dragon near a nesting ground. But upon his hasty retreat, Aemond stumbled upon the Dragonkeeper elder, who, by the look on his face, had realized what the prince attempted to do.
"Ulōrvos pryjatā, mittītsos? (Have you lost all sense, you fool of a boy?)" the elder scolded. "Jaehossa itymagon daor. Lo tolomy ozletti zaldrīzī dārligon sylvō, morghūlilā. Jikagon. Se henujagon Zaldrījudiri. (Do not trifle with gods. Try to claim a dragon bound to another, and you will die. Now go. And leave the Dragonpit.)"
Aemond brushed past him and went to return to the Red Keep. He tried brushing the ash away from his face with his arm, but all that seemed to do was spread it. The prince wouldn't forget this humiliation... he would not cry, no, he would not. But if he did, it was out of anger and resentment for what the others did to him.
Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
Aemma concentrated on her stitching, carefully threading the needle through the fabric to ensure her needlework was done according to detail. She sat among all the other girls, including her aunt, Princess Helaena, though she was more interested in her collection of insects rather than focusing on her needlework. Despite being two years apart in age, Aemma never really understood Helaena's somewhat introverted, eccentric personality and routine peculiar quirks. She did try to bond with her, she did try, but it seemed nothing was able to get through to her or even be enough to have a conversation. Aemma at least understood enough to know Helaena wasn't personally disinterested in her; but rather, her aunt was not a social type.
"Female... but at the same time... it is not," Helaena said cryptically as she examined a millipede. "This one has 60 rings... and two pairs of legs on each. That's 240."
"Umm, o-okay?" Aemma was confused. "A-Anything else interesting?"
"It has eyes... though... I don't believe it can see."
"Why not?"
"It is beyond our understanding."
Aemma wasn't sure what else she could say. The princess wasn't particularly fond of insects for that matter, but she pretended to at least assume an interest just to get her aunt Helaena to talk to her at least. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Septa Neina walked around inspecting the girls' needlework. Some were adequate, others clumsy, and a few disastrous. She had a bony face, sharp eyes, and a thin lipless mouth made for frowning. Aemma was nervous around her. "Princess, let me see your work," she asked.
Aemma rose to her feet. "H-Here," she presented her needlework, smiling for Neina.
The septa examined the fabric. "My, my," she said. "Fine work, as always, princess. Well done." Unlike most of the girls she was tutoring, Neina found Aemma's needlework exquisite. She has such fine, delicate hands as her mother does.
"Oh, thank you, septa," Aemma had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily.
"I love the detail that you've managed to get in these corners. Quite beautiful, the stitching―"
The lessons soon ended when Queen Beatrice entered. "OUT! All of you out!" she commanded.
Each of the young girls quickly rose from their stools, gathered their belongings, and hurriedly left the room with Septa Neina. Aemma, being careful in putting away her sewing needle, was frightened by her grandfather's wife's intimidating display. She gave a quick courtesy and left, avoiding the queen's gaze.
Beatrice shook her head. "What do you think you were doing, associating with them?" she asked her daughter.
"240 legs... 60 rings... The last ring has no legs at all," Helaena inspected the insect.
"Helaena!" Beatrice touched her daughter.
Helaena flinched at her mother's grasp on her arm as well as her tone of voice. She was uncomfortable. She doesn't seem to like being physically touched nor does she like people raising their voices at her as it hurts her ears. But she didn't have to endure her mother any longer as a Kingsguard entered the room, bringing Aemond close behind him.
"Prince Aemond, Your Grace," Ser Arryk said.
Beatrice turned to see her youngest child covered in ash and soot. "What happened? What have you done?" she demanded.
"He did it again," Helaena said.
"After how many times you've been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?! What have I told you about doing something as dangerous and reckless as that, especially with them?"
"They made me do it!" Aemond protested.
"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding―"
"THEY GAVE ME A PIG!"
Beatrice stopped mid-rant. "A what?" she said incredulously. Slowly taking in what her son admitted, it didn't take long for the queen to understand what happened. She recalled her elder son Aegon being much cheerier upon his return from the Dragonpit; now she knows why.
"They said they found a dragon for me. But it wasn't. It was just a pig..." Aemond couldn't bear looking at his mother. He was trying so hard to keep it. "They laughed at me! Both Aegons, Viserys, Daeron, Jace, Luke... they all laughed at me. They... they..."
"Shh, shh. Hush now, my boy. Listen to me, Aemond. You will have a dragon one day. I know it." In one of her rare moments, Beatrice hugged her son and held him close, brushing her hand up and down his back to calm him. "And once you do, the world will bow beneath your feet, Aemond. You are my darling boy, a prince of House Targaryen. The blood of the dragon flows through your veins. And the truth will be exactly how you will make it out to be."
"You think so, mother?" Aemond asked.
"I know so, my son. You will have a dragon of your very own... perhaps when you least expect it."
Helaena, still examining the millipede, remained motionless. "He'll have to close an eye," she strangely stated in a quiet tone.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Jaehaerys finished his studies. Reading a total of thirteen books, the prince, once completing a task, searches for something else. Upon finding an old manuscript, he carefully opened it to begin researching the basic tenants. These pages are old, almost ninety years old. And the texts have almost faded with time but are still visible enough to understand them. Carefully turning the page, Jaehaerys's eyes slowly traced the contents of the manuscript with great interest. Fascinating... So that's how the conflict was resolved with the realm coming together as one again that day, and so soon upon his ascension too. Oh, what I wouldn't give to ask you these questions had you lived.
"I take it this means you've already finished studying?"
Jaehaerys turned to see Alicent entering his room. "Ah, mother. Forgive me. I didn't... hear you," he rose to greet her. "Yes, I finished reading Ten Thousand Ships as you asked. I was just busy reading the Old King's percepts for House Targaryen which was written more than 82 years ago. If you're interested, I've already compiled my theory on the doctrine itself. How it benefited our family, what concessions were made, what repercussions could entail for future generations, and how it laid the foundation for what made our family's reign last so long. Nearly twenty pages so far."
Alicent blinked. "That's... a lot of pages. To write. You've been keeping yourself busy, I see. Mind showing me exactly what it was you were reading?" she asked. Once she looked over her son's shoulder, Alicent could see it. "Ah. The Doctrine of Exceptionalism. Yes, I can see why that would pique your interest. Your great-great-grandfather risked quite a lot to further end hostilities with the Faith so soon after Maegor the Cruel's tyrannical rule came to an end. By making several concessions to the Faith and forgiving his father's and uncle's enemies, King Jaehaerys had his Hand Septon Barth ensure that another Faith Militant uprising would never happen again."
"Indeed. If we don't learn from our mistakes, then we'll be destined to repeat them. But in a way, it's kind of sad."
"And why is that so, do you think?"
"So much time has passed, mother. It's easy to forget what might have been if diplomacy and compromise hadn't made people see reason. He made an impossible task a reality not only for himself but also for the people that came after him. To forget that part of history is like... I don't know, losing a part of yourself that you can never get back. And if we do try to get it back, it's often misinterpreted, leading to more conflict based solely on self-interest."
"Truer words have never been spoken, my son. It's only a shame that such wisdom has not been seen after he died so long ago."
"You've... met the Old King before, mother? Like face-to-face?" Jaehaerys sounded surprised.
Alicent nodded. "I was very young," she admitted. "Your grandfather, Ser Otto Hightower, had been named Hand of the King after His Grace's heir Prince Baelon died. But it also led to a succession crisis that would have escalated into civil war if he hadn't convened a Great Council at Harrenhal. But the Great Council itself set an institutional precedent for the line of succession and established a primogeniture system that's still being followed to this day after more than twenty-five years."
"Meaning that when faced with a succession crisis, the Old King acted and held a Great Council to resolve the matter instead of ignoring an entirely avoidable problem."
"Yes, Jay. I'm pleased to see that your studies have stuck."
"I do what I can, mother. For you, father, our family, everyone. That... and, well... you know, I just love to read. There's so much history out there that is just waiting to be discovered."
"I know, I know," Alicent chuckled. "In a way, you remind me so much of your father when he was young."
Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow. "How so?" he asked.
"Each history and philosophical tenant carry a sense of mystery, just waiting to be explored or rediscovered. The deeper the mystery, the more we learn about the past and how it sets forth precedence for the building blocks of founding a functional society. Each generation adds to it, and their successors improve upon it. But only with sound judgment and a clear consciousness of a wise counsel will either make or break those who ascend their way to the top. And so, we must do all we can to prepare your father for the climb together as a family."
"I understand." I wonder if she knows about the Conqueror's dream. The one father told me. If not, then I'll have to talk it through with her.
Alicent then hugged her firstborn son. He's growing up so fast. She soon felt him return the affectionate gesture. "I love you, my darling boy," she said. "You know that, don't you?"
"I love you too, mother," Jaehaerys reciprocated. "More than anything."
When the mother-son bonding time ceased, the door to his room soon opened – revealing Aemma. "Mother? Big brother?" she spoke up.
"Aemma?" Alicent turned to her daughter. She then noticed the look on her face. "What's happened?" she asked.
"I... I think Aegon and Viserys are in trouble again. Daeron, too."
"What did they do this time?" Jaehaerys inquired.
"I..." Aemma looked at them both. "I overheard one of the servants mention a prank in the Dragonpit this morning."
"Ugh, again?!" Alicent shook her head. Why, after all this time do they have to start acting up again? "Who did they mistreat this time?"
"Uncle Aemond."
Jaehaerys blinked. He then turned to his mother. "That's... not a good thing," he said.
"No, Jay, it's not," Alicent agreed. She was furious with her twins for deciding to pull a cruel joke on one of their relatives. If the queen were to discover... "Does Her Grace know about this?"
Aemma nodded. "Yes, mother. She does," she answered. "But I think they're going to try to find Jace and Luke too."
"That complicates things," Jaehaerys remarked. "We'd better inform father about this."
Alicent shook her head. "No, I'll take care of it. Your aunt will send Ser Laenor to retrieve your cousins. In the meantime, I want you and your sister to find your brothers and pull them aside before the queen or any of her followers reach them," she instructed.
"They won't, mother." No, they won't.