A Song of Ash and Mirror Flame
Arc XVIII: The Price of Flame
I. The Lists – Daemon's POV
The crowd still roared from your victory when the herald called the next tilt.
Daemon Targaryen mounted Caraxes-red armor gleaming.
Across from him:
Criston Cole.
Daemon grinned beneath his helm.
"A Dornish commoner with ambition," he muttered.
The tilt went as it had in history.
Splintered wood. Steel ringing. Daemon unhorsed.
But this time—
Criston did not merely humiliate him.
He pressed.
Hard.
Daemon hit the ground.
Rage flared.
They fought with steel.
Crowd screaming.
It ended as before.
Cole victorious.
Daemon bloodied but laughing.
He enjoyed the chaos.
He did not yet know worse chaos was coming.
II. The Queen's Labor – Aemma's POV
Inside the Red Keep, the cheers felt distant.
Aemma Arryn gripped the sheets as another wave tore through her.
Too soon.
Too wrong.
She had done this before.
Too many times.
And she was tired.
"Where is the king?" she whispered.
Maesters murmured.
Footsteps approached.
Viserys I Targaryen entered, pale with fear.
"They say it is a son," he breathed.
Aemma's eyes sharpened.
"Or they say what you wish to hear?"
He did not answer.
Pain struck again.
She grabbed his wrist.
"If it comes to choice…"
Her breath faltered.
"Choose me."
Viserys' face broke.
But ambition, hope, prophecy —
They whispered louder.
III. The Order – Viserys' POV
The maester spoke quietly.
"The child will not survive without intervention."
"And the Queen?" Viserys asked.
A pause.
Silence.
He thought of legacy.
Of a male heir.
Of pressure.
Of prophecy.
He made the choice.
"Do it."
Aemma heard.
Her eyes widened.
"Viserys—"
But the guards stepped forward.
And she understood.
Betrayal is quiet.
It does not scream.
It simply breaks something inside.
IV. Benedarion – POV
You were still in armor when the messenger found you.
"The Queen—"
You did not wait.
You ran.
When you entered—
It was chaos.
Blood.
Tears.
Screams.
Aemma was pale.
Dying.
Viserys stood frozen, shattered but resolute.
"Stop," you commanded.
The maesters hesitated.
Viserys turned sharply.
"This is not your place—"
"She is still alive."
You stepped to the bedside.
Aemma's eyes found yours.
Pain. Fear. And accusation — not at you.
At him.
You closed your eyes briefly.
You reached inward.
That strange power.
The "search" within your mind.
Knowledge not learned but remembered.
Valyrian binding rites.
Ancient Essosi healing techniques.
Dangerous.
Unstable.
You pressed your hand over hers.
Whispered in Old Valyrian.
Heat spread from your palm.
Not dragonfire.
Something older.
The bleeding slowed.
The room fell silent.
The child was stillborn.
But the Queen—
Breathed.
Weakly.
But alive.
V. The Cost – Benedarion's POV
You felt it immediately.
Like something tearing loose inside you.
Your vision blurred.
Blood trickled from your nose.
The knowledge — the power — recoiled violently.
Too much.
You had forced it.
A price demanded.
Your knees nearly buckled.
Daemon caught you before you fell.
"What did you do?" he demanded quietly.
You did not answer.
Across the room—
Aemma's eyes fluttered open.
She was alive.
But the air had changed.
VI. Aemma – POV
She could feel the absence.
The child was gone.
But she was breathing.
She looked at Viserys.
And she remembered.
His silence.
His order.
Her begging.
She turned her face away from him.
That hurt more than any wound.
VII. Viserys – POV
Relief crashed into him first.
Then guilt.
He approached the bed slowly.
"Aemma…"
She did not look at him.
"I begged you."
The words were barely breath.
"I begged."
He reached for her hand.
She pulled it back weakly.
Something fragile had snapped.
He looked toward you.
"You defied me."
You met his gaze steadily.
"I saved her."
Daemon watched both of you carefully.
The room felt colder.
VIII. Rhaenyra – POV
When she arrived, she saw three things:
Her mother alive.
Her father broken.
And you barely standing.
She rushed to Aemma first.
Tears falling freely.
Then she looked at you.
Understanding dawned slowly.
"You did this," she whispered.
You did not smile.
You only nodded faintly.
Her expression changed.
Gratitude.
Relief.
And something deeper.
But when she looked at her father—
There was distance now.
Not hatred.
But fracture.
IX. The Rift
In the days that followed:
• Aemma survived, but remained frail
• The infant son died
• Viserys could not meet her eyes
• Aemma no longer looked at him the same
• The court whispered
• Otto recalculated everything
And you?
The power you used did not come freely.
Your sleep is restless.
Your connection to Yggdrasil flickers.
Ancient forces do not like being commanded without cost.
The Emotional Board Now
Viserys: grateful but uneasy toward you
Aemma: alive because of you
Rhaenyra: deeply attached now
Daemon: fascinated and cautious
Otto: alarmed beyond measure
You changed history.
But at a price.