Alicent Hightower ( A Moon after Aemon's Nameday)
Kingslanding – Dragonpit
Alicent looked into the sky as she waited for Rhaenyra to land. The yellow dragon had been sighted, and normally, she would have waited for her return from her flight by now. Instead, she had gone to the Dragonpit with Ser Steffon and Ser Dalmor, who had arrived a day ago. Both of their charges would arrive two days later. A ship to Driftmark took about a day and a half, and to Dragonstone about two days, if she remembered correctly.
The joined roars, one yellow and one bronze, passed over their heads. Soon they arrived, and with them came the familiar smell of dragons she had never truly grown used to, along with their distinctive roars. Syrax landed in the center, and the behemoth Vhagar landed a little behind her. Syrax was still a small thing compared to Vhagar, and even she was considered of average size compared to Balerion. How something could become so large, let alone how someone was allowed to ride such a creature, puzzled her.
The dragonkeepers stepped forward in their black armor. Most wore black mail with black leather cloaks around their shoulders. Those of higher rank and seniority, as far as she understood, wore plate and more ornamental pieces.
"Dohaeras, Syrax," the older keeper said, protecting his younger companion from being scorched as the young man approached too quickly. The younger man spoke hesitantly, understandably nervous about learning how to handle these fire-breathing beasts. "Umbas, Rybas."
Another group walked over to Vhagar, who lay down further away so her rider could dismount.
Alicent smiled as she saw both her friends dismount. "Alicent! What a wonderful surprise. I expected to see you at the castle," Rhaenyra shouted.
Alicent smiled as she embraced her friend. She was still taller than Rhaenyra by almost a head, yet she knew members of House Targaryen were all quite tall. Rhaenyra was full-grown in height and build.
"Of course. It's been a little boring this past moon," she said into her friend's neck.
"Alicent!" After she released Rhaenyra, she was embraced by the taller Visenya. "Oh, I missed you. We could have used your charm with my brother."
Alicent frowned at that, wondering what it meant. She knew of Rhaenyra's, Laena's, and Visenya's activities. She had even once kissed all of them. Yet she had never taken part in what would have happened if she had gone further, nor the risk of discovery, and she did not feel that way toward them. Her heart was shielded against that, especially after what had happened with Prince Daemon. The name left a bitter taste in her mouth just thinking of the man.
The only man she had truly felt something for was betrothed to another woman.
"Oh, I wonder why? You both have enough charm on your own," she replied.
"That might be true, but men can be quite stubborn," Rhaenyra muttered, before looking toward the wheelhouse. "Let us depart. I wish for a bath, and to see Mother."
Alicent nodded as she walked toward the wheelhouse. The ground shook as Vhagar was led inside the pit. It fit her, although Alicent knew that Balerion was growing to a size that was starting to become almost too large. Still, Maegor had designed the Pit to fit the enormity of dragons.
As they entered the Dragonpit, Rhaenyra and Visenya both quickly greeted their sworn shields, who smiled and nodded in return.
"So how was Driftmark and the celebration?" Alicent asked.
Visenya and Rhaenyra looked at each other before the latter spoke. "Quite good. Laena and Aemon still seem to get along quite well, even after he discovered our activities."
Alicent's eyes widened. "He did?"
Visenya nodded. "Indeed. He found me in bed with Laena. Let's say he was quite upset. Not because of what we did, though he said we acted foolishly. He was upset because we had lied to him, because we never told him."
Alicent hummed. She could understand that. They had all done something intimate behind his back. "So he wasn't favorable? I heard men are generally intrigued by it." She had heard words slip from her brother at times, and sadly, Daemon had once been quite drunk the last time they had been alone and had spoken crudely.
She still wanted to slam her head against a wall for ever having gone alone into a room with him. A foolish girl, sometimes still wrapped in the fantasy of a prince coming to find and marry her.
"No, he wasn't. We all tried, but Aemon was quite adamant. Also, we must apologize, because I let slip that you have feelings for him too, or fancy him," Visenya replied, looking down.
Alicent suddenly felt very warm. "Oh."
"Sorry, Alicent. I was in quite a rush when Aemon demanded explanations from us," Visenya added.
She sighed. "Well then, next time will be awkward. Yet at least he knows. How was his reaction to all that?"
"He wants to see first," Visenya said. "He told us that pleasure is fleeting, and only true feelings last." She paused and looked toward Rhaenyra. "It made us all think, and I do believe I love Rhaenyra and Laena. Not just for what we have been doing."
Alicent looked at them wide-eyed as Rhaenyra nodded. "It's true, although how we go on, I've not yet decided. It's all quite complicated."
Alicent still did not know what to think of it all. They had supported her when she accepted Daemon's courting, and they had helped her through the aftermath. She would help them through this as well.
"You are my friends, and you will have my support in all of this," she said, stepping forward to embrace them both.
Daemon Targaryen
Kingslanding– Gold Cloaks Barracks.
Daemon was sharpening his knife. He used it in the pot shops, alleys, and smaller areas of King's Landing, as a sword was of much less use in such confined spaces. Even if he carried his famed sword, Dark Sister, and his father's Valyrian steel breastplate, those were meant for true battle, for massive brawls, riots, and something he was now preparing to enact.
To prove the power he wielded. To show them to fear Daemon Targaryen and the wrath of the House of the Dragon.
His grandfather had ruled over peace, yet peace, he found, was dull. Nothing about it was truly interesting. Patrols were seldom eventful, riots now rarely broke out. He thought the last had been when the announcement of the dismissal of the bread edict was made. There were no wars either, though even he knew something was brewing in the Stepstones. The sailors and merchants who visited the pleasure houses spoke of it too often.
Yet even in peace, he had to be honest with himself. His life had been quite favorable. He was born a prince of the realm, of the great blood of the dragon, except that he had two brothers. Sadly, one was his elder, and the other was a half-breed.
Viserys, his elder brother, was increasingly obsessed with the upcoming tourney for his yet-unborn child. He was convinced it would be a boy and openly spoke of his heir being born, though he was still denied the three things Daemon desired most.
Viserys had yet to refer to or name him Prince of Dragonstone. Yet by all accounts, he was second in line to the throne. This left him wondering if he would ever receive it, even if Viserys's child turned out to be a girl. Or would Viserys continue to push his wife for yet another pregnancy?
Aemma had borne three children. The first was Aerion, followed by his niece Rhaenyra, and tragically, a stillborn son named Daerion. Each pregnancy had taken a toll on Viserys's wife, with Aemma growing weaker with each birth, as if the children were draining the life from her.
Adding to his troubles was his marriage. Even after five years of being King, Viserys hadn't granted him the desired annulment. He had hoped to sway the King by seducing Otto's daughter and dangling the prospect of marriage before him, believing that the Hand would then support him. Yet the little Hightower bitch hadn't wanted to play. The Hightower upstart held far too much power for his liking.
Initially, Daemon had served as Master of Laws, taking over the position of Carlton Marbrand after the man's death, but Otto had quickly dismissed him. He had briefly served as Master of Coin after Lord Beesbury returned to his lands, but that role was stripped from him once Beesbury resumed his duties. Though he didn't particularly enjoy counting coppers, he yearned for a more significant role.
What he truly desired was to be Hand of the King, a position that would allow him to protect his family, much as his father had done for the old King. Yet he knew it was a distant dream. Otto had ruled as Hand for many years since the Great Council and continued to hold the title. Deep down, Daemon knew that even if Otto were to die, his brother would not call upon him, choosing instead to pass over him in favor of his half-breed, Northern-born brother.
As reports arrived detailing Aemon's exploits, it further gnawed at his patience. Aemon had established a new Dragonstone in the North, a thriving city with undisclosed activities. This irritated him to no end, but what irked him even more was Aemon's growing power. He had garnered more support than the heir to the throne, ruling over a city and a formidable fortress, with the Starks as powerful allies. What incensed Daemon most was Aemon's possession of Balerion, the Black Dread, and the surprising speed of the growth of Jaefyre, the dragon of Lady Laena.
Frustrated by Viserys and his denial of both the Handship and the annulment, Daemon had embraced his role as Commander of the City Watch with unyielding determination. He saw it as a means to wield power independent of the crown and to forge a force entirely his own.
He rose from his seat and walked into the courtyard. The clamor of drills and the clang of swords met his ears. He was met by his seasoned sergeant, Borik, a trusted man who had served under his command for years.
"Sergeant Borik," he began, his tone exuding authority, "how are the men faring? Is their training nearing completion? We need them ready to root out the rats and pests from this city, and I want the people to remember the Gold Cloaks as a symbol of fear."
Borik, a grizzled and loyal officer, nodded. "Lord Commander, the men are shaping up well. Their discipline has improved, and they're ready to be deployed to maintain the King's peace and order. They've begun calling themselves the 'Gold Cloaks,' a name they wear proudly."
Daemon's lips curled into a sly grin. "Good. I want them to understand the power and respect that comes with this badge. King's Landing has known peace for too long. It is time to remind the populace that they live under the watchful eyes of the Gold Cloaks. Ensure their armor is gleaming, their swords sharp, and their loyalty unwavering. I expect nothing but the best."
Borik saluted crisply. "You can count on us, my Prince. We'll ensure the Gold Cloaks are a force to be reckoned with in King's Landing."
Daemon nodded in approval and turned to leave the barracks. He had grand ambitions for the Gold Cloaks and was determined to prove his worth to both his brother Viserys and the people of King's Landing. The city's underbelly would soon learn to fear the name "Gold Cloaks," as they maintained order and, more importantly, served as an instrument of his power.
Benjen Stark
Winterfell – Benjen's Solar
Seadragon Point was the gem of the West. The North had not been this rich in a long time. He was not sure how long it had been, but the influx of food and the wealth of trade coming their way was enough to justify the investment his father had made in the project. Then there was the influx of Velaryon trade that his nephew was bringing in due to his upcoming marriage to Laena Velaryon, he thought as he looked over the map of the North. His eyes wandered to the northern part of the map, where his nephew had caused yet another stir.
There was also the outpost in the far North, beyond the Wall. Reports of silver had not been unexpected, something that could swell the power of the North, and most of all Seadragon Point and Bear Isle. Then again, he could not take credit for it. His nephew had built and financed it, and even made deals with the Watch, likely for guides and for whatever else the Watch could provide.
Then there was the matter of what his nephew had told him, that the Wall itself was made of ice. He had looked at his nephew with a frown, yet the boy had only smiled and told him it was true. Silver was not the only promise of the settlement, as it was already bringing in tons of ironwood, even allowing his nephew to send saplings to the White Hills, who had destroyed their woods long ago. Hopefully, the feud between the White Hills and House Foster would end with the return of their forests. He was hopeful, though he knew feuds like that often mirrored those of the Brackens and Blackwoods, conflicts that had lasted for thousands of years.
Yet his nephew never ceased to amaze him with tales of the North. The Dragonglass carts his nephew had sent to Winterfell were meant to reinforce the rebuilding of the old keep. The stone was the strongest available, and he had heard what had happened to some of the stonemasons, the burns they had suffered while working it. Still, as he looked at the direwolf figure on his desk, crafted from the same stone, he could not complain. The material had a marvelous look to it.
Then there was the greatest discovery of them all. He remembered when his sister had first told him. He had laughed, but all doubt vanished after his sister and wife returned with the children. And then Aemon had come and presented them with Snowfyre, Frost, and Needle. The blade Frost was the one he was proudest of. Similar to Ice, its blade was a milky white, a sword meant for his heir, a new heirloom for his house. He could not have been prouder of his nephew, and he would protect him as best he could.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in," he said. His sister, the older princess of the realm, entered.
"Ah, brother, you are brooding. Aemon has the same brooding face as you do. So, are you ready to come to the capital? I know you've never been and dislike the South, but meeting the rest of the family, like Rhaenyra and Laena, will be good for you," she said with a smirk, the same one she had worn as a child when they had teased the castle guards and driven their lord father mad.
He chuckled, thinking of their childhood pranks, like the snowball with horse dung hidden inside and how furious their father had been. Even so, their father had praised them for their trickery.
"What are you thinking?" Lya asked.
"Oh, the snowball with horse dung inside it, and how Father raged. Yet he still praised us for our cleverness," he laughed, and Lya joined in.
"Oh, that was so long ago, when life was simpler. It brought both joy and sorrow, and soon I will have another daughter," she said with a smile.
"Yes, a true match for the family. I hope Aemon will be happy. The boy deserves it. He has carried so much melancholy, as if the weight of the world has been laid upon his shoulders," he said, thinking of the boy he saw as his son. He had raised him after his father's death and could not have been prouder.
"Yes, he has. Sometimes, he wishes he were not a Targaryen. As much as it benefits our family to stand close to the throne, it places great pressure on my children. Not just Aemon, but Visenya and Arya as well. Arya especially tries to be like her big brother, and that girl is only eight years old, wanting to be like the Visenya of old, even if her older sister is more Rhaenys than Visenya, even if she bears her name," Lya said, shaking her head.
"Gods spare us. We already have a Visenya in you, and you do not even carry her name," he said with a smirk.
"Well, I hope everything will be well, and the realm can stop holding its breath and gain a new heir. Sometimes, I wonder what Viserys is thinking. Aemma has already endured so many pregnancies. The last time, she barely survived. Let us hope it is all worth it," Lya said, her voice critical of her goodbrother, who was the King. Even kings, she believed, deserved criticism. Power was dangerous, and those who stood too close to it often got burned.
"Well, I hope calling it the Games of Love and Heirship is not too on the nose, but the King has always favored tournaments and feasts," he said, shaking his head.
"Yes, he always has, keeping people content and avoiding conflict. But he is a good man at heart," she replied.
That was well enough, as long as it did not bankrupt the realm or give rise to some foolish policy. Still, he would see for himself how Viserys had changed since the Great Council.
Jason Lannister
Casterly Rock
The grand tournament, known as the "Tourney of Love and Heirship," was the event to be called, the tales of which would pass down through the generations. He didn't mind this extravagance; he relished feasts and tourneys. The opportunity to show his wealth and the power of his house. To show his support for the crown, to get the influence his house needed, what the West needed.
However, beneath all that, he planned a more audacious ambition to secure a dragon for House Lannister, ensuring they would never again suffer the humiliation of a field of fire, a stain on his family's honor greater even than the follies of Tommen II or the catastrophic fate of the golden fleet.
He harbored grand hopes for the future. His brother had been dispatched to the capital on a mission to explore the possibility of a royal betrothal. His brother's task was to present gifts to the King and Queen; he even sent gifts to Prince Aemon while Prince Aemon held his nameday on Driftmark. Aiming to win their favor and negotiate a potential match for either Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Visenya, or even the youngest Arya. There was also Daenerys Celtigar, who also possessed the blood of the dragon because of her mother. It still puzzles him that match, a princess of the realm, married to a lowly house on a windswept isle. Yet they all were the sole unmarried members of the royal family who carried the blood. He yearned for a betrothal to one of the dragon blood.
All of them were celebrated for their beauty and remarkable ability to ride dragons, except for Daenerys. Still preferring the older of the two, he recognized that a nine-year-old was still relatively young and that he would have to wait before a marriage could occur, with Princess Arya and the even younger Daenerys. Nevertheless, the allure of having dragons aligned with House Lannister was a powerful motivator. In his wildest dreams, he envisioned this power to challenge Targaryen's rule over his lands and perhaps even reclaim the title of King of the Rock. "King Jason Lannister," a grand vision that sounded quite pleasing in his mind.
His reverie was abruptly interrupted by a knock at the door. "My lord, Lord Tyco, the Lord of Castamere, is here to see you," announced his loyal and true knight, Cosmar.
"Let him in, Cosmar," he replied, showing his trust in Cosmar and his appreciation for the knight's counsel.
"My lord, what brings you? I know we shall travel together with the rest of the West to the wedding and the tourney. Yet why have you come to seek my company, Lord Tyco's company?" he inquired of the tall Lord of Castamere. His cousin, on his mother's side.
"I've come to inquire about your plans, My Lord." Lord Tyco replied. "I know you've sent your brother to the capital. It's high time that the West regained the favor of the throne. The actions of our previous Farman lord have tarnished our reputation in the realm."
As he reflected on this dark chapter in the history of the Westerlands, he couldn't help but agree with Lord Tyco's assessment.
The sun hung low in the western sky, casting a golden glow across the opulent chambers of Casterly Rock. He, the Lord of Casterly Rock, reclined in his ornate chair, deeply contemplating the future. Seated across from him, Lord Tyco, the Lord of Castamere, exuded an air of gravitas, intently focusing on the lord before him. The room was adorned with the crimson and gold banners of House Lannister, and the flickering candlelight cast a warm and inviting ambiance. Casterly Rock is a seat of King's and will be again. He thought as he spoke the word.
"Dragons," He began, a glint of longing in his emerald eyes. "They are the key to power in this realm, Tyco. It would change everything if we could secure a dragon for House Lannister, for the West." Indeed, acquiring a true dragon for the West would ensure their power and influence. Also, having the blood of the royals in their line would give them a claim.
Lord Tyco nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "You speak of Princess Rhaenyra, Visenya, or even the younger Arya. They are the most suitable candidates for our ambitions, and they are unmarried and dragonriders. If we could secure one of them for your hand in marriage, the power of a dragon would be ours." His face showed a hint of smugness, partly attributable to the audacity of allowing an unmarried girl to claim a dragon.
His gaze shifted to the window, where the setting sun's fading light reflected off the vast blue waters of the Sunset Sea. "Rhaenyra is the prime candidate, but we must tread carefully. The Targaryens are a proud and formidable family, and we must ensure our approach is subtle and persuasive. Her father, the King, may agree on a whim, but her uncles have their own ambitions and loyalties."
"Indeed," Tyco agreed, "Aemon Targaryen is animaga. The rumours that he survived a burning prye and walked out with a baby dragon. Or the fortress itself. I have spoken with the merchant, and somehow a keep that should have taken perhaps years to build rose in perhaps two years." Jason had heard the rumors as well, about the great fortress of the North. "I know even a couple of merchants have been selling dragon gems at Lannisport, apparently, Prince Aemon has supplied one else has. Pretty things, quite suitable for jewelry or fine patterns on armor." He noted, as Tyco nodded.
"Speaking of Aemon, it's quite well known that he and Daemon Targaryen are not the most amicable of brothers. Daemon also has a conflict with the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, who is not particularly fond of the Rogue Prince. After the rumors of a failed courtship. As is no secret, Prince Daemon wishes out of his marriage with Rhea Royce." Tyco added.
"True, my brother sent word of the rumors about Alicent Hightower and the Rogue Prince. I suspect he hoped the Hand would support his annulment if. If Otto expected Daemon would make his daughter a princess, and without the King having a son, there would have been a chance his daughter could become the queen after Daemon ascended to the throne." Loren stated.
"Well, shame that Lord Carlton passed away so quickly after his appointment to his seat. He could push for Western marriage." Tyrco said as he took a sip from his wine.
He leaned forward, his voice filled with resolve. "Indeed, so instead we must present something enticing, something that aligns with their interests. The Seadragon Point trade. It could be the key to securing Aemon's favor. Increasing trade by lowering the cost of goods for shipments to the place could be the key to gaining his favor. "
Tyco nodded. "However, it won't be an easy endeavor. House Velaryon currently holds the favor in that region, with close ties to its lord, thanks to the betrothal of Laena Velaryon, the Sea Snake's daughter. Perhaps securing favor with them might also be a step."
Jason looked at his cousin, and he smiled. "True, I know the Sea Snake has plenty of kin. Perhaps a marriage to my brother, who is still my heir, would align with us. Sadly, I do not have sisters. Just a twin and plenty of nieces, yet I doubt the Sea Snake would accept them. You also have one son, no?"
"I do, and far too young, I do have one unmarried brother still. Yet too low a rank to make a difference." Tyco replied as he rubbed his chin.
Jason sighed. "Perhaps if we pay bride prices, instead of receiving doweries for a match, it might work. Still, it's not common and considered a prideful insult." Tyco grunted in agreement.
"For now, we start looking and preparing. We need to expand our influence at court and in the realm. One day, the realm will look and fear the West once more." Jason added, as the image of King Jason of the Rock flashed across his mind.
"For the West." Tyco raised his cup. Jason raised it along with him. "For the West."
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