King's Landing 302 AC,
Jaime Lannister.
They had readied themselves just in case the barriers broke. Brightroar in hand, Jaime was prepared to fight to the death if need be. Given the things he'd fought in the corridor outside the Royal Chambers, however, death was not all it was cracked up to be. Still, if he bought Cersei, Tommen, Tyrion, and Myrcella even a little more time, Jaime would give up his life to do so. Not that he or any of them had needed to do so, in the end.
For the briefest moment, seeing the flame and light-covered barriers fade to nothingness had led to Jaime closing his eyes and preparing for the worst. He, Arthur, Barristan, Oswell, Jonathor, and Bonifer, along with the Unsullied that Daemon had left with Myrcella, were all ready to face the attack that never came. Instead, it was quiet. Then there were loud cheers and each of them moved to the windows at the same time.
"Is it done?"
"Has Daemon been victorious?"
Prince Viseyrs and Princess Daenerys asked the questions Jaime himself had on the tip of his tongue.
"Where is my brother?" Rhaenys asked, worriedly and hopefully at the same time.
The answer to that question was one they didn't have more than a moment to wait for. A knock on the door and Daemon Targaryen entered the room most unlike the conquering hero he truly was. Jaime looked on as he and Myrcella shared a kiss and a much-longed-for embrace. He then shared his own with Cersei, even if the kiss was far more chaste than Daemon and Myrcella's was. The truth of them was known to almost everyone in this room and yet their passions would always remain private.
"It's over, R'hllor has been victorious," Daemon said when he moved from Myrcella.
"The Dead?" Rhaella asked.
"At peace, grandmother. As am I, almost."
"Almost?" Myrcella turned to her husband.
"Dorne, my love. House Martell's end is soon to come upon them and once it has, then and only then can I rest for true."
Oswell was sent to the gates to speak to those who now held them for no reason. Daemon refused to speak to them of what it was he'd done with the thing that Jaime had seen only but briefly. Instead, he spoke words that almost broke him, his brother, and his sister. Tommen and Myrcella too gave in to their tears. Margaery and Willas Tyrell soon did likewise.
"We suffered less losses than I feared and far more than I dared to hope we'd not. Thousands have paid the true price for this day and though each has names, families, and stories to tell, some mean more to us than even they. I…."
"Daemon."
"Lord Tywin fell. As too did Lord Mace, Sers Garlan, and Ser Loras." Daemon looked to the Tyrells. My uncles and cousins live still." Daemon turned to Sansa Stark. "Yet so many….."
Cersei wept. Myrcella only did not because Daemon held her in his arms. Tyrion offered comfort to Tommen while Jaime tried to do the same to his sister. In the corner of the Room, Willas held Margaery in his arms and allowed her to cry on his shoulder. While Rhaella, Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daenerys all seemed shocked by just who had lost their lives this day. Jaime tuned out the names as Daemon now spoke on Tarly and Rowan, Hightower, and the Smalljon amongst others.
He saw it not when Rhaella joined Myrcella and held Daemon in her arms. Heard not the words or the sob that came from the king as he spoke of the deaths of the red priest and priestess who were closest to him. So focused was he on holding back his own hurt at the loss of his father and trying to comfort his family over the same, that Jaime could do little else but what he was doing.
Over the next few hours, days, and even weeks. Memorials were held and the Silent Sisters were all but ran off their feet. Some bodies had been burned and others would still be dealt with the same way. While some needed to be prepared for burial, his father's among them. Jaime stood vigil with Tommen, Tyrion, Kevan, and his cousins. Happy to see so many of them had survived and a little bitter that they had and his father had not.
He was shocked to hear that the Mountain had fallen. Mayhap even a tad curious as to how that came about, yet not enough to ask the question if he was being honest. When talk turned to him being the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, he reluctantly agreed to be so. His only reason for doing it was so that Tommen would have the seat to inherit in the future. Something his brother had eventually talked him into.
"It should be you," he said to Tyrion who shook his head.
"Would it surprise you to hear I don't want it." Tyrion chuckled.
Walking around the city was to see it remarkably intact. True some places needed to be repaired, but all in all, you'd never know a battle had been waged at the gates and walls of that city only weeks earlier.
Other than being with his family, readying himself for his new role as Warden of the West, it was to the prisoner that Jaime would find himself spending most of his time with. Oberyn Martell had suffered greatly and lost much, and Jaime took great comfort in knowing that there was much more to follow. It may not have been the Red Viper who'd taken his father from the world, but he'd played his part nonetheless. Jaime had pledged he'd play his own in seeing retribution dished out when it came to House Martell and so he mocked the man as much as he could before then.
If there was one bright spot in his life, other than the fact he and Cersei were now even more together than they had ever been. There was no need to hide their relationship from their father, even if Jaime would have preferred their father to still be living and them still to be hiding if that meant it was so. Other than that, however, it was the knowledge that he was to be a grandfather. That all the threats to his daughter were now passed and Myrcella was soon to have a son of her own.
"You're smiling again," Cersei said as she rolled over and lay her head on his chest.
"Thinking of our girl. Of the babe she is soon to bring into this world."
"Babes, did she not say there would be many." Cersei laughed happily.
"She did, grandmother." he sniggered as he was hit softly on the head.
"I wish father could have seen it. That he'd have been there when his great-grandson comes into the world. I…"
"He'll see it. Daemon assured us of such did he not?"
"He did." Cersei kissed him.
After both dozed off, he woke to see her looking down at him, a worried look on his sister's face.
"Cersei?"
"Do you truly have to go?"
"I…"
"I wish you not to," she said softly. "I fear it, Jaime. Fear your loss and I cannot bear to….."
"Daemon just beat a god's champion, Cersei. He defeated the dead themselves, a few fucking Dornishmen aren't going to be enough to stop him from what he intends to do."
"Daemon walks with a god's favor, Jaime, you don't and we've lost too much as it is."
"I walk with your favor, my love. Ever has it protected me and in this it'll protect me still."
"Promise me, promise me you'll take no chances."
"I promise," he said and after they kissed, and lay together once more, he rose and readied his armor and dressed for the journey to Dorne.
The fleet that had been assembled contained ships from every region, even the North having some amongst them. On his flagship, The Golden Lion, Jaime stood with Tyrion and Tommen. Off far to the right of him, Kevan and Gerion along with Kevan's sons Lancel, Martyn, and Willem did likewise. While to the left, Genna and her sons stood on the deck as the ships began to set sail from King's Landing.
There were so many who wished to see Dorne and House Martell in particular pay for all they'd taken from them. Both Willas and Margaery Tyrell had joined their mother and grandmother on their own flagship while Randyll Tarly's last remaining son stood with his sister, the new Lady of Horn Hill. House Rowan, Hightower, The Greatjon, and others, all who'd lost kin in the Battle of King's Landing now wished to have those kin avenged.
As for the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Daemon Targaryen flew over their heads atop Lyanax, his vengeance sought just as truly as theirs was. It made Jaime feel even more kinship with his Goodson, as he wagered so did each man and woman who now set sail to bring Fire and Blood to House Martell and Dorne itself.
Sunspear 302 AC,
The Greatjon.
He reveled in the carnage. Blood dripped from his Greatsword and Jon Umber cared not whether that was blood owed or just blood taken. No civilian was harmed in the taking of the city or the castle. A poor Dornish fleet had been burned away to nothing and the fools who sought to protect the House they served, felt the kiss of cold steel.
Daemon Targaryen had promised him both. The King of the Seven Kingdoms had stood by his side as Jon Umber had wept like a green boy over the loss of his son and heir. He'd seen Daemon share the same tears over the losses of a Red Priest and Priestess and as he then wiped away his own, he was given a promise that the king had kept.
"Fire and Blood, Lord Umber. They are the words of mine House and what we seek to bring to those we name enemies or those who have wronged us. Dorne and House Martell I name as both and so on my oath, Fire and Blood is what I shall bring to them. I offer you a place in the army that does so."
"Aye, I can live with that. Fire and Blood and it'll take much of both before my son is avenged."
"Yet avenged he will be, Lord Umber, take whatever peace from that as you can."
There had been mourning to do afore then. Burials and Burnings to put the dead at rest. Drinking too, far too much of it and yet until the Martells were no more, it was the only thing that calmed the wrath and rage inside of him. At least it had been until today.
As he swung his Greatsword and took down yet another guard of House Martell, he heard the screams of a young woman and the pleas she made for her life. Princess Arianne Martell had not run to join her father at the Water Gardens. She'd named herself as Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken and so had tried to stand her ground. Another day, another life, and Jon Umber may have respected her for it.
Today, he very much did not.
It took them less than a full day to take the city and the castle. Some men threw down their weapons and surrendered and those surrenders were accepted, in the main. Some had lost too much or felt their grief too keenly to do so. Jon Umber had not been one of those men, however. He'd shed much blood and wished to shed more, but only that of men brave enough to fight. Let the cravens be dealt with by someone else, was what he told himself.
Two days later, it was the Water Gardens that was visited with Fire and Blood. Doran Martell was a crippled man both in body and spirit when Daemon Targaryen took him prisoner. He was dragged out into the desert along with his daughter, son, and Oberyn Martell's paramour. The woman had poisoned her children so they didn't need to face the consequences of their father's actions. Daemon only accepted this when the white wolf led him to their bodies.
Then each of them looked on as from atop the Black Dragon, fire was laid down upon the Water Gardens as it had been the Old Palace in Sunspear. Harrenhal was a candle's flame compared to the raging inferno Daemon unleashed upon House Martell's twin seats of power. Lyanax not letting up until both were mere blackened glass with no true form at all. Stone melting and dripping down to form a most gruesome and unforgettable sight.
Once that was done, the Black Dragon landed and Daemon nodded to the Kingsguard to bring forth the prisoner. Oberyn Martell wept as Jaime Lannister took his paramour's head. One swoop of Brightroar was enough to do so. Then it was his turn to step forward. A son for a son his prize and cost for all that he'd lost. A young boy who wept and soiled himself as Jon raised his sword.
"For my son," he said, looking not at the boy whose head he took but at that boy's father. Doran Martell finally felt some of the pain that he had carried with him since the Battle of King's Landing.
Princess Arianne fell to Willas Tyrell. Her father wept as her head came off her shoulders and she pleaded with both him and her uncle to save her in vain.
Then it was Doran's turn and his head fell to Daemon Targaryen's swords. Flame and Spark both unlit as they ended the Prince of Dorne and left but one Martell alive. Oberyn was ready for death by then, Jon wagered. Yet not quite ready for the words that Daemon spoke or the death that he was given. None of them were.
"All of us lost those we love because of the greed and stupidity of House Martell. Dorne is in flames because you sought what was not yours and could accept the truth not, Oberyn. Your girls are dead. All of them, when my god was happy to take just the one. For it was R'hllor who took Tyene from this world because she'd dared to try and take his champion from it."
Daemon paced, his hands gripping his sword and though he wore no look that named itself as hateful, his eyes certainly showed that as he looked to Oberyn Martell.
"I… too have lost more than I can bear. Yet I take comfort in knowing that they've almost been avenged. For Thoros and Melisandre, may you suffer as much in your death as you have now suffered in life."
It was the white wolf that tore into Oberyn Martell. His screams rang out loudly in the quietness of the desert. None turned away from the sight, nor did they when the dragon joined in and began to tear off even more of the Red Viper than Ghost did. Not even the ladies present turned their eyes away. Each of them believed that he deserved the death he got and in Jon Umber's case, he relished that it took Oberyn longer than the rest of his family to die.
Did it fill the hole in his heart that his son's death had put there, no.
Was it enough for now, yes.
Three days later they left Dorne and he cared not what was to happen to those lands. A moon after that he was back in Last Hearth and as he told his uncles, his wife, and his other children of how he'd helped avenge the Smalljon, he saw it in their eyes that he had indeed done so.
"I'll see you one day, my son."
King's Landing 312 AC,
Rhaella Targaryen.
Though she spent much time in the city, Rhaella still enjoyed traveling to and staying on Dragonstone every so often. There, she and Bon could be as they wished to be. Free from any pressures or expectations and when the children arrived, Rhaella had all she ever needed. Yet the city called her back no matter how much her grandson wished her time to be her own.
She'd not lie and say that she didn't enjoy King's Landing more these past few years, however. Seeing her grandson rule and be content in that ruling. Watching Daemon as he played with his children or spent time with his wife and seeing him as happy and content as she'd ever wished him to be. Knowing that there were no threats for him to face or enemies to vanquish, all of it brought her much cheer.
As did seeing her son serve as Daemon's Hand. Viserys had truly grown these past few years. Ever since Rhaenys had given birth to her twins, it had been her son who had done most of the duties of Hand of the King. That Viserys was able to manage combining both his duties as Master of Laws and ostensibly Hand as well, was a testament to just how much her son had come on. So when Rhaenys wished to give up the role and sought to instead serve as the Lady of Highgarden, there had been no other choice but her son to take over.
'Happy both in his duty and in his family.' Rhaella smiled.
Her son had found a good and true match in Desmera Redwyne. Their personalities, while opposite, actually meshed well together. After a brief period of awkwardness when the betrothal was agreed on and the wedding held, they'd found whatever it was they sought in each other. So much so that they now had two children to go with Daemon's three. One of whom, Alysanne may very well be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in the future. Rhaella knew that she and Daeron were a match in the making.
As for her daughter, Dany was the only dark spot about coming back to this city or traveling to Dragonstone for a visit. Her daughter served as the Warden of Dorne. Daemon had sought none but family to rule over those lands after House Martell had been wiped from both memory and the world itself. Yet while Rhaella and even his wife had suggested Viserys, Daemon had stunned them all when he named Dany instead. His reasons were ones that not even Rhaella could argue with.
"They will take better to my aunt there than they ever would my uncle, grandmother. Not only that but Dany's love for Missandei will never be used against her, not in Dorne."
"Yet that is not the only reason is it not?"
"Thoros," Daemon said and Rhaella understood it all then.
Dany would never have children of her own. Her daughter had accepted that and so too had Rhaella, over time. So she would serve as Warden of Dorne and in time it would be Daemon's second son Thoros who would rule there. Daemon had been right about how Dany would be accepted too. Her daughter had a woman's strength and while she would never birth a child of her own, she had always loved children more than any of them. Given just how many Dornish fell in Doran's poor attempt to take the Iron Throne, there were many children left without fathers or even mothers. In Dany, they found at least one parent who cared for them still.
'Dorne is her child now.'
Still, it left her daughter in Dorne and their time together was less than either of them wished because of it. The older she got, the harder a long journey was on her tired old bones, and while she could of course be flown there, even a ride atop a dragon was too long of a journey for Rhaella to undertake. So, it took Dany's visits to King's Landing or Dragonstone for them to spend much time together. Visits that were too rare and never long enough, but were precious all the same.
Hearing the knock on her cabin door, Rhaella rose to her feet and moved to let Bonifer inside. His silver hair now matched her own and yet he looked as fit and vibrant as ever. Even if looks could be deceiving and her love suffered from the same aches and pains that she did. Growing old was rarely graceful or without its challenges, but as Daemon was oft heard to say, it certainly beat the alternative.
"Daemon," Bon asked, seeing her smile.
"As always," she replied. "We're almost at the docks?" she asked to a nod and then allowed Bon to offer her his hand and walk her to the deck of the Dragon Queen.
The first thing that always hit her when she arrived back in King's Landing was the smell. Daemon had spent much coin on improving the city and with some of the men and women he'd brought over from Essos, they'd been able to do a remarkable job of ridding it of the smell it had once been known for. That was not the only change her grandson had made. Flea Bottom had partly been razed to the ground and in time, the rest of it would be. Newer, larger, and cleaner buildings had been built in its stead and they housed more people than the cramped broken-down ones once had.
Daemon had built up instead of out and where once there was only space for two hovels and mayhap three families, now there was space for a dozen or more.
Her grandson had seen jobs offered to those who'd work for their coin as well. Brought crime down to a far more manageable level and sought to improve the lot of not only the Lords and Ladies of Westeros but the Smallfolk too. Daemon was not afraid to spend his own coin to do so either. As well as that from the Royal Coffers.
"By the gods, that sight never ceases to amaze me," Bon said from beside her and as they reached the deck Rhaella looked to the sky.
Half a dozen dragons flew over their heads, Lyanax almost like a proud mother as they followed her flight in the mid-morning sky. Her great grandson's dragons, her great granddaughter's too. Rhaella smiled as she saw Viserys' golden dragon join the others.
Two years after the Battle of King's Landing, Daemon had left for a moon or so. Where he was headed to, he told no one until he returned, and had he done so, then Rhaella never would have let him go. She'd seen what he'd faced in Stygai after all. When he returned, her grandson did not do so empty-handed. The large sack contained more than two dozen dragon eggs. All of them were viable and over the years, ten had hatched. Dany and Viserys had dragons of their own now as did Rhaenys. All three of Daemon's children, Daeron, Rhaella, and Thoros. Along with Viserys' son and daughter, Jaehaerys and Alysanne, as well as Rhaenys' twins Elia and Rhaegar. All of the children's dragons had hatched after the eggs were placed in their cradles. House Targaryen was truly the House of the Dragon once more and it allowed any doubt or fear that may try and gain a hold over her, never be able to do so.
"Ser Arthur awaits, it seems Daemon has been looking to the sea." Bon japed.
"Then we must have truly arrived just in time."
After greeting Ser Arthur, and waving to the few men and women who looked her way, Rhaella joined Bon in the carriage. The trip to the Red Keep took little to no time and though they hurried not through it, they dallied not either. Rhaella arrived to see her grandson pace worriedly as he had for each of the births of his children. All he'd done, all he'd achieved, and the fact he still walked with R'hllor's favor, all faded away when it came to the birthing bed. Daemon feared no man or beast, yet still, he feared losing his wife each time she brought a child into the world.
"Grandmother, thank R'hllor," Daemon said as he embraced her.
"If you'll forgive me my greetings, Daemon. Outside is not where you wish me to be is it," she whispered to a shake of her grandson's head and the first inkling of a smile she'd wager he'd worn all day.
"I.."
"All will be well, Daemon."
After washing her hands and happy enough that her clothing had no need to be changed, Rhaella entered the room to see the Red Priestess, the Grand Maester, and Cersei Lannister all hovering over Myrcella as she lay in the birthing bed. Moving past all of them, she offered a smile to the woman who'd made her grandson so happy. The mother of her great-grandchildren. Then she took her hand in her own, as she had for the three other births, and spoke words she knew Myrcella would welcome.
"The boy we spoke of." she smiled.
"Finally." Myrcella laughed, a pained one though it was.
"And what shall this one look like, I wonder. Will he be his mother's son like Thoros or his father's daughter like Rhaella?"
"Or a dragon like Daeron."
In the end, he looked like all and none of them as babes were wont to do. Aemon Targaryen was born without fuss and was mayhap the easiest birth his mother had. It was to be the last one too, though none knew it then. Myrcella was still as healthy as ever and she recovered quickly from birthing her third son, but he was the last of them.
For Rhaella he was almost a promise too. That day in the Royal Chambers, when all around them were fighting and Daemon was battling against a God's Champion, it was what Myrcella said that stuck in Rhaella's mind. She'd named her third son Aemon Targaryen and now, finally, that third son was here. What the future brought after this, she knew or cared not. As she held her great-grandson in her arms and looked down upon his face, Rhaella felt true peace.
The Realm of Shadow and Flame.
He had lived a full and true life. Beaten back the dead and closed Red, Blue, and White eyes forevermore. Daemon had seen his children grow and he knew that in Daeron he had an heir to be proud of. His son had wed Daemon's niece Alysanne and both he and Myrcella had seen much of the same love they shared, in them both.
Daeron and Alysanne had a large family too. Four boys and two girls, each of them a grandson or granddaughter to be proud of. His other children were no lesser in Daemon's eyes. Thoros ruled Dorne for his brother and had children of his own. He'd married a Dornish girl to heal the last remaining rifts between Dorne and the Crown and yet he'd done so because he wished for it, not because it had been forced upon him.
Rhaella had married a man of the North and Daemon could fault her not for doing so. Winterfell would one day be ruled over by his nephew Eddard and Daemon's daughter and both he and Robb had been thrilled at the match. As for Aemon, his third son and the last child born to him and Myrcella, he was exactly as Shiera had promised he would be. The new Three-Eyed Raven was much different than the last. Even his powers were greater than those that Bloodraven had possessed. While the magic in his blood had protected him from becoming what Bloodraven had turned into and what his Shiera had feared for herself.
"Thanks be to R'hllor," Daemon said as he walked across the burned wasteland and headed for the light in the distance.
He'd suffered losses too. Shiera had passed a few years before Aemon reached his majority. Barristan, Oswell, Jonathor and Arthur too had long since left the world behind them. His father and Elia, his uncles, all meeting their ends in what Daemon felt was far too short a time. It had been tough on him when Davos fell, as it had when Grey Worm's time came and that truly had been a hard loss to accept.
Though it was three losses that had almost broken him. Bonifer had finally left his grandmother's side. The ever-faithful knight and the man who'd brought her so much happiness had been loath to leave her alone. Even at the end, as he readied to breathe his last, it had been the woman that he'd loved that Bonifer Hasty had thought about above all.
Less than a year later, his grandmother had taken her final breaths and done so surrounded by all her family. Aemon had told them all it was coming. So, Rhaenys, Dany and Viserys, Daemon and Myrcella, and all his grandmother's great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren had been there beside her. Daemon had held her in his arms as he thanked her for everything she'd done for him. He named her the true heroine of House Targaryen.
Finally, it was his dearest Myrcella's time. Not even Daemon's prayers to his god to take him instead of her had been listened to. For weeks afterward, Daemon was either in a state of mourning or filled with such furious anger that had he not secreted himself somewhere alone to wallow in his grief, he'd have done someone harm. In the end, it had taken Lyanax to force Daemon out of his malaise. The Black Dragon gifted him time enough to grieve his wife but no more.
"I thank you again for that, my friend," Daemon said as the light in front of him drew ever closer.
It was his namesake and great-nephew that Lyanax now belonged to. Rhaenys' grandson, Daemon Targaryen, a young lad who was mayhap the best swordsman amongst any of those who made up the current House of the Dragon, who she'd chosen. For it had to be her choice and her choice alone, as Daemon had told them all as he neared the end of his life. Happy enough when that end came peacefully and that he'd prepared his family, House, and the Realm itself for what was to follow.
Now, he was here, wherever here was. A land that had been burned to a crisp and looked as if it was ravaged by dragons. One of the Seven Hells he wagered, for it could only be thus.
Yet upon reaching the source of the light, he began to think much differently. As the doors opened and he heard his god's voice once more, Daemon felt himself rejoice. What he saw next made him fall to his knees and thank R'hllor with all he had within him.
They were here. All of them. His grandmother, Bonifer, the Kingsguard who had served him well. His father, Elia, and even his mother, a gift from the Old Gods as thank you for beating the Great Other. Aemon almost wept to see Grey Worm. He did when he saw Thoros and Melisandre. The feel of them lifting him to his feet and being able to touch them once more was almost too much for him to bear.
Then he saw her, Myrcella looking as she did when they walked the fire on their wedding night. Her smile beamed as she ran to him and Daemon swept her up in his arms. The kisses that he still longed for with every single part of him, ones he now enjoyed once more. Her smell, taste, and the look in her eyes, were all things he had dreamt of since she'd been taken from him.
Over her shoulder, Daemon saw his god. R'hllor offered him but s simple nod of his head and four words that truly made Daemon's heart sing.
"Welcome Home, My Champion."
A/N: I want to thank everyone for reading this story and I hope you enjoyed doing so as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to review, much appreciated.