|| MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: ||
Hey guys, sorry if I have been active in a while. Unfortunately, on Friday 06/16/2023 at 10:25 PM, I was informed of the tragic passing of my grandmother due to cancer. She was in no pain; she did not suffer; she passed away peacefully in her sleep. For some time, I had to take some time off to mourn her; as the rest of my family stood together consoling one another in grief, we took a moment of silence to remember her values and honor her memory before we begin preparing for her funeral in the next few weeks.
So, yeah. My mind's been pretty much all over the place.
So, this chapter is dedicated to my grandmother and any whose families have had to deal with a loved one experiencing or who has experienced cancer.
Rest in peace, abuela. We'll miss you.
(1943-2023)
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Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
As the morning sun peeked through the castle windows, Alicent pushed the grand doors to King Viserys's room open. Since she woke up realizing her husband still hadn't come to bed, she had been searching for Aeonar, and there he was, fast asleep beside his sister Rhaenyra. The two siblings had kept watch over their father all night long, and Alicent couldn't help but feel touched by their unwavering devotion. She approached them quietly, not wanting to disturb their much-needed rest, and gently shook them awake. "Good morning, you two," she whispered. "Time to wake up."
Aeonar and Rhaenyra began to wake up, feeling a bit disoriented. After a few moments, the Young Dragon was the first to open his eyes with a groan. "Mmmm," he murmured.
Rhaenyra slowly stretched her arms and let out a yawn. "Oh, my back," she muttered, feeling stiff.
"Mmm. Ah, Alicent. Good morning. Did you sleep well?"
"I slept," Alicent answered. "However, there was this big, empty spot in the bed where my husband usually sleeps."
Aeonar got up from his seat. "Well, he didn't mention that he and his sister had taken up the responsibility of looking after their father," he mumbled sleepily.
Rhaenyra walked to the other side of the bed and placed her hand on Viserys' face to check for a pulse. Though weak, he was still breathing. "Looks like he's pulled through the night," she remarked. "How long he'll last is uncertain."
"We can only do what's best for him. Make sure he's as comfortable as possible."
"I'll prepare his medicine," Alicent said.
"Alicent―" Rhaenyra said.
"No, I can't allow you two to take on the entire burden. The stress is already taking a toll on you both. Let us help and share the responsibility of caring for him," Alicent declared, determined to lend a helping hand. With precise instructions from Maester Alwyn and guidance from her daughter, she expertly crushed and pounded the medicinal ingredients, including willow bark. One drop of dreamwine, and the king's medicine was ready to be administered. Alicent's dedication was truly admirable. "My king," she whispered.
"Haah... ohh..." Viserys let out a low moan, feeling a bit dazed. He raised the vial to his lips and took a sip. "Ahhh..." he exhaled, letting out a contented sigh of relief.
"Father, how are you feeling?" Rhaenyra asked with concern.
Viserys winced in pain before replying, "It comes... and goes, my dear. But I... appreciate your concern and... the presence of all three of you."
"Would you like something to eat?" Aeonar offered kindly.
"Yes, please. Just... Just a little something..."
"Let me have Talya bring you something, Your Grace. It's the least we can do."
Viserys turned his head slowly to the right, grimacing. "Aeonar... would it be alright if... I spent some time with... with my grandchildren this morning?"
Aeonar nodded. "Of course, father. We'll make it happen."
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True to his word, the king's grandchildren each took turns spending an entire day with him. Over the course of the past week, the whole family had rallied around Viserys; their collective focus was firmly fixed on ensuring that every moment spent with him was imbued with a sense of timelessness and joy. Despite the weight of the inevitable looming over them all, their sole objective was to create lasting memories that would endure long after Viserys was gone.
Standing alongside his grandfather, Jaehaerys engaged in the meticulous task of enhancing the model of Old Valyria. Commencing his efforts in the early hours of the morning, he began by delicately removing any cobwebs and dust that had accumulated over time. With great care and precision, he proceeded to meticulously add intricate details, meticulously filling every gap and crevice with a vibrant coat of paint, bringing each model to life with a brilliant splash of color. "It has been some time since our last discussion, and I would like to inform you of our recent expansion efforts," he stated. "Regarding the pyramid in the center of our project, I have been contemplating the addition of a layer of gold, reminiscent of the pyramids featured in the descriptions of Meereen. Additionally, I propose that the towers be modeled after those of the Valyrian Freehold. But what's say you, grandfather? I would appreciate your input on this matter."
Viserys had been given a substantial portion of dreamwine that had been blended with pulverized willow bark. While it wasn't as potent as milk of the poppy when it came to reducing pain, it did help him keep his mental faculties intact so that he could continue to be productive. "That's quite... an astute observation, Jaehaerys," he whispered with short breaths. "The Ghriscari Empire, which gave birth to Meereen, had been around for centuries... before the dragons ever appeared in the Valyrian peninsula. It's... possible that our ancestors drew... inspiration from the Harpy worshippers when they... were designing their architecture."
As the king delicately wiped his mouth with a luxurious silk cloth, Viserys couldn't help but acknowledge the fact that among all his grandchildren, Jaehaerys held a special place in his heart. Not only was he the first of many, but his grandson possessed an exceptional intellect, indomitable spirit, kind-hearted nature, and an unwavering sense of compassion. Viserys saw a bright future for the young boy, one where he would undoubtedly significantly impact the world around him. Viserys placed his hand on Jaehaerys's shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly.
"As we... sit here, building models and playing with toys, it's easy to forget that one day you, Jaehaerys, will bear the weight of being king. It's a daunting task... filled with hard choices that one day may lead to regret. But always remember, your first duty... as a king... is to the people," Viserys said, emphasizing the last word. "Nations are not just lines on maps or cities of stone and gold... they're made up of the people... who inhabit them. So, it's our duty to serve them... because without them, we have no right to rule. Do you... understand, lad?"
Jaehaerys nodded. "I understand, grandfather," he replied, briefly returning to the model. "Throughout my travels across the realm on each royal progress, I encountered numerous individuals needing help, ranging from high-ranking lords to commoners. In addressing border disputes, facilitating trade, and forging a pact between two houses, I had to make plenty of difficult decisions and learn from my mistakes." He returned his focus to the king. "But what's more, if there's anything I learned, it is that by forging everlasting alliances, to build the bond that makes us whole, we lay the groundwork for a future worth preserving. Each generation adds and improves on it so those who come after will be successful."
Viserys gave a nod of approval and a smile to his grandson. "Your father... and mother... have raised you well..." he said. "You... would make a great king... and a father when Baela decides... to give you children." The king had regrets, and his final words were tinged with sadness. He took his hand off Jaehaerys's shoulder and opened a chest filled with stone dragons of all shapes and sizes. "Let's... set these dragons in place," he suggested, "for a Freehold without dragons... is no Freehold at all." He carefully placed the first dragon, the one the prince had made for him years ago, in the model's city center.
"I believe that enhancing the color of the Fourteen Flames replica could greatly benefit its overall appearance. Wouldn't you agree?" Jaehaerys suggested while dipping his paintbrush into the palette. He added color to the chain of volcanoes to give it a more realistic appearance. "So far, so good. Although, the Anogrion could..." He included miniature statues of Valyrian blood mages in various positions showcasing their craft. "I was considering the possibility that it may be feasible to establish a new Valyria with consistent practice. This would involve constructing topless towers near Visenya's Hill and the Hill of Rhaenys and placing sphinxes close to Aegon's High Hill." Jaehaerys arranged model dragons of various sizes on the ramparts and towers. "The dragons of antiquity, namely Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, and Syrax, were christened after the deities in the Valyrian religion. It is... disheartening to acknowledge that a significant portion of our collective history has been forfeited and cannot be retrieved. But it feels as if our journey has proven to be a valuable and worthwhile experience."
"Jaehaerys, my boy... I understand your passion for history and the pursuit of knowledge... but let's take a step back and remember why Aegon chose to convert to the Faith of the Seven and not pursue a new empire in Essos. The Valyrian Freehold had its time... but their arrogance and misuse of power led to their downfall." Viserys stared down at the model city. "They were masters of the world... but could not rule their excesses. They dabbled with powers that they did not fully comprehend... and it destroyed them. As much as we cherish our heritage, we shouldn't try to emulate our forebears... or risk repeating their mistakes. House Targaryen took a long time to recover after the Doom, and we've come a long way since then. It's best not to push our luck... and stick with what's working."
"Forgive me, grandfather. I was verbalizing my thoughts."
"There's no need to apologize, young one. It's not uncommon for a Targaryen to yearn for the restoration of Old Valyria. However, we must learn from the past... and from King Maegor's and Queen Visenya's failures. Let us appreciate Old Valyria... as a masterpiece of architecture... and leave it as such for us to admire."
"Maybe it's the right thing to do," Jaehaerys acknowledged. "I will acquire additional tools and ensure we have ample time to complete the task. It is imperative that you are well-rested before this evening. I assure you, grandfather, that we will accomplish our objectives. Together."
With a smile, Viserys replied. "Absolutely, we have plenty of time," he said while admiring the model. "We have all the time in the world."
But I do understand your concerns, grandfather... As Jaehaerys meticulously applied a new layer of paint to each model, his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the flickering flames of the nearby braziers. Father, have you thought of the future? Can you see one where you yourself remain? He noticed Viserys standing close by, silently observing the delicate work. When a tree dies, nature brings it back to the earth. And after its death, a young shoot will grow from the remains. This, too, is nature.
Red Keep ― Godswood...
Jaehaerys was seated beneath the comforting shade of a weirwood tree, engrossed in 'Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History.' As he read, his mind wandered to the past week's events, which had been both productive and trying. His work on the model of Old Valyria, the long-gone city of dragons and House Targaryen's ancestral homeland, was nearing completion. Still, the task had been temporarily set aside as he tended to his ailing grandfather, King Viserys, who again had to be brought to his bed for emergency treatment hurriedly. Despite the best efforts of the skilled Maester Alywn, the king's condition continued to worsen, with no sign of improvement. Jaehaerys felt a profound sense of helplessness as he contemplated the inevitable: his beloved grandfather had, at most, two weeks left to live, at minimum, a month at best. With a heavy heart, he closed the book and placed it gently beside him, hoping for a miracle that would spare his family from further heartache. Grandfather...
Jacaerys approached and observed, "You can't concentrate, too, huh?" He noticed the quietness in his cousin's behavior.
Jaehaerys shook his head, "No. No, I can't," he replied.
"I don't blame you. We all worry about our grandfather. It's like he's on his last legs. Think the Caltrops would make their move?"
"It is unlikely that Queen Beatrice would take such actions. However, there may be cause for concern given her recent tendency to be... reserved and private these past few days." I wouldn't put it past her. "At this time, it may not be necessary to concern ourselves with that matter. It is possible that a resolution may arise through unexpected means."
"You seem to be rather optimistic these days, Jay."
"How could I not be, Jace? Our grandfather has imparted to us the invaluable wisdom of living in the present and refraining from worrying about future events that have not yet come to pass. He believed that by doing so, we can avoid unnecessary sorrow and strife in our lives. Therefore, it is imperative that we heed his wise words and incorporate them into our daily lives.
"Huh. I have to say, easier said than done," remarked Jacaerys. "But let's not dwell on the negative. How are things going between you and Baela?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come on. You know who I'm talking about. You and Baela. Anything exciting happening there?"
"Why are you so interested in my love life, Jace?"
"Opposites attract, or so I've heard."
Jaehaerys sighed. He's not going to let it go. "Baela... she's truly a remarkable woman. She knows what she wants and doesn't hesitate to tell you what's on her mind; those qualities are admirable," he explained. "But moreover, there's a certain... fire in her spirit that I find very intriguing. Captivating. Her beauty is undeniable, but it's her character that captivates me. A woman like Baela would make a fine princess and consort. She's a good companion, a constant source of excitement, and―" He stopped when he noticed Jace wasn't looking at him. "...she's standing right behind me, isn't she?"
Baela's confident stance remained unwavering as she flashed a teasing smirk without even bothering to turn around. One of her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted inquisitively, indicating her curiosity about the situation at hand. Her hands rested confidently on her hips, ready for any challenge that may come her way. "Don't let that stop you, tough guy. Keep going. Let me hear more," she sat beside him. "Oh, how cute. You're blushing!" she teased.
"Baela..."
"D-Don't be shy, Jaehaerys. I think it's rather sweet," Rhaena smiled.
Jacaerys chuckled. "I guess the rumors were true," he jested.
"Jace..."
"Shame, shame! We know your name," Aegon and Viserys teased.
"Awww," Aemma gushed.
"Eww, gross," Daeron rolled his eyes.
Jaehaerys, feeling more and more flustered as he was surrounded, lowered his head in embarrassment. "Vēdros jeme buqan... (I hate you all...)" he mumbled.
"Pffft! Haha, you know you love it," Baela playfully wrapped her arm around Jaehaerys's neck.
"So, how long until the wedding?" Aemma asked.
"It's all been really hush-hush. No one's saying a word. They got their lips sealed tighter than a crab's buttocks."
"S-Sis!" Rhaena gasped.
"Wha...?" Aemma stammered.
"Bwahahaha!" Daeron laughed boisterously.
"Oh, ho-ho! She's good," Aegon chuckled.
"Our brother will certainly have his hands full with her," Viserys agreed.
"Definitely the polar opposite of you, Jay," Jacaerys concurred.
"Ugh," Jaehaerys shook his head. "I understand that arrangements are currently being made for our upcoming wedding. It will be scheduled to take place in a matter of weeks," he disclosed.
"Nervous, tough guy?" Baela inquired.
"No. You?"
"Not at all. I still vividly remember first meeting you on Driftmark six years ago. Honestly, I could only think, 'Who's this weirdo coming up to me?' Not that I didn't understand the attraction. But there was something special about you that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I've enjoyed living in the moment and not tying myself down to anyone; yet something about you felt different. I suppose we'll have to delve deeper into what that is once we're officially married."
"No one else even comes close to you, Baela," Jaehaerys blurted. "What I mean to say is... I know a good thing when I see it. And I have no intention of letting you go."
Baela paused. Now it was her turn, for her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as she paused to collect her thoughts. "Umm, good. I'll, uhh... be keeping it that way," she replied, feeling a bit flustered.
"Ugh, can you two stop flirting in front of m― OW!!" Daeron groaned.
"Hey! Don't. Ruin it," Baela scolded, playfully punching Daeron on the top of his head.
"Oh, I almost forgot to mention this earlier. You don't want to make her mad. She's got quite a bit of a temper," Jaehaerys cautioned, realizing his mistake a little too late.
"Ow! Yeah, thanks for the warning, Jay," Daeron muttered, rubbing his head.
Even Jacaerys felt intimidated by Baela. She's going to be my sister-in-law. Yikes! Best not to say or do anything to make her get riled up.
"Prince Jaehaerys," Talya approached with a serious expression.
"Who's she?" Baela asked.
"That's Talya. She's our mother's handmaiden," Aemma answered.
"What's going on?" Jaehaerys asked, sensing something was amiss.
Talya hesitated momentarily before speaking, "Your father has requested the presence of all of you. Even you, Prince Jacaerys. Your mother and Prince Daemon are asking for you too."
Jacaerys looked confused, "Why? What's happened?"
"An urgent message has arrived from Dragonstone. Your family needs you all."
Jaehaerys remained feeling uneasy. Why do I feel so uneasy? I... don't like this. Grandfather...
Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
Aeonar and Rhaenyra, along with Alicent, were in the midst of packing their belongings for what seemed to be a temporary departure. The Young Dragon had received word of an urgent matter from Dragonstone involving the rival houses of Bar Emmon and Sunglass. As the Prince of Dragonstone, Aeonar was deeply conflicted about what to do. On one hand, the noble houses surrounding Dragonstone were fiercely loyal to him, and without his presence to render judgment, chaos would surely ensue. On the other hand, he couldn't simply abandon his father in his time of need. This was a delicate situation that required careful consideration.
"Don't stress yourself too much. I'll stay with him," Otto offered.
"How can I trust nothing will come to my brother?" Daemon asked suspiciously.
"I give you my word."
"The word of a power-hungry old man with much to gain, now that you got your blood on the throne."
"Daemon, stop it!" Alicent exclaimed.
"That's enough," Rhaenyra reprimanded. "This is not the time nor the place."
Aeonar shook his head. "You are certain?" he pressed.
Otto respectfully nodded in agreement with the concern expressed. "I do understand the importance of being present in multiple places at once, but even with your extensive spy network, such a feat is still impossible," he acknowledged. "I have had the honor of serving your father and great-grandfather for many years, and should any issue indeed arise, I will swiftly send a raven to inform you of the matter without delay."
This sounds too convenient. Aeonar's nerves were in overdrive, tugging and twitching fiercely. Finally, he relented, "Very well... as Hand, I hereby entrust His Grace and King's Landing in your care, Ser Otto. But let me make one thing clear - if there's any hint of trouble, I want to be informed immediately. No excuses." He turned to his father, who remained in bed. "Father, listen. An urgent matter has come up on Dragonstone so I'll have to take a brief leave of absence to tie up some loose ends. Otto and a few of my men will remain here to look after you," Aeonar spoke with conviction. "But before we go, I want to make a promise. Once I'm back, you and I, we'll finish that model. And we'll get it done. Together. For good, this time. What do you say?"
"I... I would like that... very much so. I'll... I'll keep a seat warm... and ready for you..." As the medicine took effect, Viserys felt a wave of relief wash over him. He savored the peaceful calmness that enveloped him, gently easing his worries and allowing him to rest.
"Take good care of my father, Otto. I mean it," Aeonar whispered to his father-in-law.
"You have my word."
Aeonar and his family made their way out of the room, the weight of the meeting heavy on their minds. As they walked, Talya crossed their path and slipped a notice into Aeonar's hand. The paper felt thin and fragile in his grasp, but the words written on it were anything but. "The White Worm will keep an eye out. Be ready for anything," the notice read. Aeonar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over him. The message was cryptic, and the tugging and twitching at the back of his head only intensified. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The group continued on their journey, stopping only briefly at Dragonstone before setting off once more. Aeonar remained on high alert, unsure of what lay ahead. Don't you dare die on me, father. There's still much left to be done. Just... hold out a little bit longer. I'll be back as quickly as I can.
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On that fateful night, Viserys was writhing in pain, his condition worsening by the minute. Standing by the king's side was Otto Hightower, a man of his word who had promised to aid Viserys in his time of need. As Otto administered the medicine, his heart was filled with a sense of sorrow for the young prince Viserys once was who now lay before him. It was hard to imagine that it had been thirty-one years since they had first met, back when Viserys was just a young man and Otto had succeeded Prince Baelon as Hand of the King.
For years, Otto had served as a loyal advisor to King Jaehaerys, grooming his grandson to one day take his place on the Iron Throne. But now, as he watched Viserys struggle and slip further into delirium, Otto couldn't help but feel a sense of regret. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that all his efforts were leading to this moment - the inevitable passing of the king.
Despite his own misgivings, Otto had always been a staunch supporter of House Targaryen. He had even gone so far as to arrange a match between his daughter and Viserys's eldest son, forging a bond between House Hightower and the Iron Throne. It was a move that had paid off handsomely, with five grandchildren and a great-granddaughter to show for it. But even as he worked tirelessly to ensure their safety and security, Otto remained ever faithful to his king, watching on helplessly as Viserys slowly withered away.
"Otto... Otto..." Viserys gasped.
"Yes, Your Grace?" Otto answered; he could barely hear him.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
"Take comfort, Your Grace. There will be plenty to talk about when you awaken."
"I can... feel it..."
Otto paused.
"Aegon... His dream... The Song of Ice and Fire... It is true. What he saw in the North. The Prince That Was Promised..."
"Your Grace?" Otto was confused.
"The Prince... Aeonar, my son... Help him, Otto... To unite the realm against the cold... and the dark. Help... him... Our grandchildren, their descendants... show them... the way..."
I'll have to confer with the archives Viserys left me. "I... understand. I understand, my king."
As Otto stepped out for a moment, Viserys' breathing became more and more labored, the disturbing sound of liquid filling up his lungs growing louder by the second. "Aemma..." he weakly called out. Viserys took short, shallow breaths as he stared up at the canopy of his bed. The world started to spin and become fuzzy. "My love..." he spoke in a gentle murmur, and just then a breeze entered through the open window, extinguishing the only candle in the room. "Wait for me... Aemma... my love... I... I'm... coming... home..."
Viserys let out a single sharp exhale as the darkness settled and then...
...there was silence.
A single tear shed down his cheek.
Viserys Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm... passed away in his sleep at sixty years old.
Beatrice cautiously entered the room and surveyed her surroundings to ensure there was no one present. She then proceeded to check the king's pulse but found no signs of life. A sinister smirk appeared on her face. Good. Now that you're out of the way, I can finally bring our plans to fruition.