Chapter 17 : Duty

Aemon Targaryen (107 A.C.) 

Th ree moons since the coronation. 

He waited in the godswood, one of the few places where he found peace. In this place, among the kings of Westeros, his uncle had returned to Winterfell, and he couldn't blame him. The city was something he also preferred to avoid. But now he was the heir to the throne, destiny seemed to have plans for him to be the heir again.

In his previous life, he had been the heir, but he had experienced so much loss, shock, and betrayal that he couldn't think about it rationally back then. Now he had the time, the support of his family, and the two people he loved most, who would become the most important in his life, were supportive of him.

Rhaenyra, in his mind, should have been named the heir. A compassionate and brave woman who had cared for her little brother after the death of her own mother. She had taken on the role when her father couldn't. But the lords in the Seven Kingdoms were too stubborn and set in their ways to accept a woman ruling over them.

Then there was Laena, someone he had loved for longer than Rhaenyra. He had always expected to marry her, not just for political reasons, but because of her spirit, kindness, and bravery. Laena reminded him much of Arya, and he realized it when he saw her again after all those years away in Seadragon Point.

He started to sing "Jenny of Oldstones," though the events in the song had not yet happened. He changed the words, replacing Jenny with Rhaena and Oldstones with Harrenhal. After the widow of the princess of Aegon the Uncrowned. He had never sung before, not in his previous life. Bastards were supposed to be shunned, and he highly doubted Lady Stark wanted him to sing in the halls of Winterfell, though Sansa did so on occasion.

"High in the halls of the Lords who are gone."

"Rhaena would dance with her ghosts."

"The ones she had lost and the ones she had found."

"And the ones who had loved her the most."

"The ones who'd been gone for so very long."

"She couldn't remember their names."

"They spun her around on the melded old stones."

"Spun away all her sorrow and pain."

"And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave."

"Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave."

"They danced through the day."

"And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall."

"From winter to summer then winter again."

"Til the walls did crumble and fall."

"And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave."

"Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave."

"And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave."

"Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave."

"High in the halls of the Lords who are gone."

"Rhaena would dance with her ghosts."

"The ones she had lost and the ones she had found."

"And the ones."

"Who had loved her the most."

Someone clapped, and he put down the harp, opening his eyes. He also heard someone sniffle, as if someone was crying. "You really have to sing at the wedding, My prince," it was Alicent, tears rolling down her cheek.

"Sorry, my lady, I didn't mean for you to cry." He said as he saw her.

"No, my Prince, it was a beautiful song. I didn't know you played?" she asked, her voice corky.

"Well, it's something I worked on when I was in Seadragon Point. The dragons seemed to enjoy the singing. Balerion even tried to sing along, it wasn't a success," he said, and they both laughed. "Although the mating song of the dragon is also very joyous," he added, with a smile, remembering a scene at Seadragon Point.

"I didn't know dragons sang. I don't have much affinity for them," she said; dragons always made her nervous. It was understandable, given her family history, but now she was visiting his brother. He wondered if it was her choice or her father's ambition. Soon, he had to speak of his sister, something he didn't want. But something she had understood when he had spoken to her. Although it was clear that she wasn't ready and wouldn't be married for some time.

"Well, dragons aren't very different from us. If you treat them with cruelty, they lash out, and we do much the same. Same with love, that is," he said, giving her a smile. Alicent even seemed to blush.

"If you say so, my prince. I was wondering if you have some time to join me at the sept. I was going praying and was looking for Rhaenyra, but I haven't found her yet," she asked, surprising him.

"Of course, I will come. Will you then join me at the dragon pit? I heard you have the same agreement with my niece," he said with a smirk.

"I think we have an agreement, my prince. I'll wait for you in the courtyard. There's already a carriage waiting for us," she said. He nodded, and they both walked away from the godswood. He first left to go to his chamber, where he left his harp, a beautiful silver instrument modeled after Prince Rhaegar's, his second father. His first would always be Eddard Stark.

"Alicent, shall we go? I'm ready. I'll ride my horse to the sept. You could also join me if you wish," he asked. Alicent was surprised but nodded hesitantly. He lifted her up onto the saddle, and they started riding. Alicent seemed to be breathing heavily.

"Alicent, are you alright?"

"Of course, my prince. I just haven't ridden together with someone in a long time. Probably the last time was with my brother Gawyne," she explained.

"Alright, that explains it." After some time, they arrived at the sept. The greatest lie of all, though in some ways, it wasn't a lie. It brought people hope, a holdfast in hard times. But the Faith of the Seven also had its restrictions, especially when it came to magic, other religions, and hypocrisy concerning oaths. Many lords of the Seven had betrayed, stabbed, and killed people in the name of the gods, though that sin was one all religions shared.

That was the downfall, really—the perception of faith. None of them knew the will of the gods; he only had some idea. He had been given a chance to save the dragons from destruction and save the world from the darkness that was to come.

"Funny really, we go from one sept to another," he said as he helped Alicent off the horse. Alicent looked at him with a frown.

"I follow the gods of my mother as well, Alicent. The old gods of the North," he said with a smile.

"Ah, yes, of course. True, I find them peaceful when I study their. Perhaps that is it," she said as they walked through the doors and into the sept. They both knelt at the sept.

"Alicent, what do you say? I'm not used to this," he awkwardly admitted, realizing he needed to learn more about the Faith if he were to become king one day. So, he looked at Alicent, who gave him a smile.

"Whatever you wish, they will listen, you can speak it aloud or in silence. I do it mostly for my own mother." She smiled and placed her hand on his.

"Father, I don't know if you can hear me. I hope you are proud of me," he said, hoping they were, all three of them. "I will do my best to live by your lessons and protect our family." He said, choking up a little; the more he lived and felt happy, the more he could lose. Then his thoughts went to his wives, hoping he would be a good husband and a distant father to any future child of his. He prayed, not to the gods of the Seven, but to the ones who had helped him this far.

"Thank you, Alicent, this was peaceful too. Are you also up for something else peaceful?" he asked when he opened his eyes again.

"Well, if you think dragons are peaceful, please show me," she said with a smile.

Dragonpit

"Wait here, we have to wait a little bit. Balerion nests outside the city with Vhagar. They are both too large for the Dragon Pit," he said after they arrived and dismounted.

"Aemon, it has been some time since we last have flown together," he heard Balerion rumble, and roar out when the dragon landed. "We are, but hopefully not together totally," he said mentally. "The Hightowers are sure, Aemon." Balerion questioned. "Yes, we have to have her on our side if we want to prevent the dance." He had some plan for preventing the Targaryen civil war. Either project power as Rhaenyra's protector and hold the family together. Still, that went out of the window when he was named heir. If he could have Alicent trust him to never harm her children, then perhaps the whole war might be avoided. If the plan with his sister didn't work, although that plan made his stomach turn. "If you say so, my friend. Perhaps you are right about that. But a leaf blows where the wind takes it," Balerion said, and he thought he meant Alicent.

"Well, Alicent, I'm about to do something peaceful. So if you will," he said, his hand reaching out to her. After he stepped back from Balerion. She looked at him wide-eyed, understanding what he meant. "My prince, my trips with Rhaenyra are only for me. To come here," she said.

"Mmm, well, I didn't say that, but I will tell you when we are in the air. You will know what I mean," he said and looked into her eyes. They were brown and with a reddish tint to her hair. She looked beautiful.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "What did I say, Balerion? Now be nice," he said, and the dragon gave him a huff of smoke. Balerion lowered himself as much as he could, and he helped Alicent up Balerion's wing, where the ropes were. At these moments, he missed the Dragontower at Seadragon Point.

"Are you ready, Alicent? Also, remember to breathe and don't forget to look," he said as they both were saddled in. Then he gave the command, and they went up into the sky. Alicent gave loud shrieks when they did. She grabbed his hand very hard. "It seems a Hightower isn't used to the height," Balerion said, as they soared, giving trills as if the dragon was laughing. "It's okay, Alicent, we're steady in the sky," he said, and he saw her open her eyes and loosen her grip on his hand.

"Oh, by the Seven," she said, unsteady. But there was wonder in her voice. "I have never seen such a thing." She said as she looked down at the city. "It is peaceful, isn't it?" These were moments where he found peace and quietness. "True, you were right, and now I see why Nyra wanted me to come with her. Thank you for convincing me." She spoke softly but with a thankful tone.

As they landed, he thanked Balerion, who took off again, heading back toward his nesting site. "Thank you, my prince. The ride was pleasant. If you permit, I would welcome another ride; it was truly peaceful high in the sky." She looked at him flush. She was close to him, and as he looked at her, she did look pretty when her face was wind-swept.

"I would be inclined to invite you. Although I'm sure Rhaenyra would also like to take you up," he said with a smile, and it was true; he did have fun with Alicent. But he wasn't prepared for what came next. As he spoke, Alicent bent forward and kissed him. Oh, how much he wanted to return it, but it wasn't yet time.

So he pulled away and spoke. "I'm sorry, Alicent, but I can't do it to Laena. You are a wonderful woman, and you can have any man you want." He said as he gave her a hug. "I'm sorry, my prince. I just feel a bit low these days. I have had feelings for you for some time. After the flight, I felt free, so I kissed you." She said her voice with a little tremble.

"It's fine, Alicent. I understand. It isn't your fault. I understand when you feel free, you can let go sometimes." He said and gave her a kiss on the head. Alicent was three years his senior, but he still was taller than her. "Thank you, my prince, for the understanding. It won't happen again." She said, and they returned to Raven and rode back toward the Red Keep.

The next day in the council chambers.

"Ser Ryam was a strong and faithful Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," his brother said. "But he was ill for some time. He passed in peace, I hope."

"Yes, Your Grace," Grand Maester Mellos replied. The Grand Maester irritated him at no end. He hadn't been able to raise Aemma's death with the king. Every time he wanted to bring up Aemma's death, the king commanded him not to speak of it. The pain of her death was still too fresh for his brother. Further down the council table. "He was found to have passed gently in his sleep. His remains are being prepared by the Silent Sisters," the old man said, but who was to say the man wasn't poisoned? Since finding out about his Aemma's and their work against magic, the work on a new order of the scribtors was one of his most demanding projects. 

The old man cleared his throat and spoke again. "The succeeding Lord Commander, Ser Steffon Darklyn, would like to make haste in finding Ser Ryam's replacement on the Kingsguard."

"Your Grace. My lords," Ser Steffon spoke from behind so he could see his face. He had found out that not seeing someone when they are speaking wasn't something he liked. You could see a whole lot in some faces when they spoke. "The Kingsguard must soon be restored to its full complement of seven. With the help of the Hand, I've invited a number of fine candidates to court. All have passed fair trials." Otto had not spoken about the king.

His brother nodded in agreement. "It is good that the king should have seven at all times. Brother, if you will, you and Rhaenyra can choose the man that will guard you." To be honest, he wanted one of his own oathsworn in the guard or a Northman, as many held him in favor. They were loyal; the best would have been one of the men-at-arms closest to the wall, as they were the hardest fighters.

"If it pleases Your Grace," he said, nodding. He gave Rhaenyra a smile when she came to fill his cup. "Of course, father, I will be happy to help seek the right choice."

Then the doors to the council chamber were opened, and an angered Lord Corlys came striding in. He wasn't sure if the man wasn't here before, but seeing Corlys, his face would soon reveal the answer.

"Four ships have now been lost," Corlys began, his heavy footsteps echoing across the stone floor as he came to stand beside his chair. The pin of Valyrian steel in the image of a ship shone brightly in the sun. "The last one was flying my banner. The Stepstones have ground into a conflagration, yet you sit here and dither about court business." Well, it seemed he and his brother had found the meat that would bait the crab.

"If you have something to discuss, Lord Corlys," Otto spoke first, probably trying to dismiss the Master of Ships' concerns.

Corlys did not give Otto the time to finish his sentence before he spoke again. "I want to know what is to be done about my ships and my men. This council is delaying actions for far too long." It also seemed Corlys was referring to his daughter's marriage.

"The Crown will compensate you for your ship and crew and make an offering to the men's families," Otto spoke up.

"I don't want compensation," Corlys growled at Ser Otto before turning back to the king. "I want to seize the Stepstones by force and burn out this Crabfeeder," Corlys hissed.

"I am not prepared to start a war with the Free Cities," his brother responded calmly. But he gave him a knowing look, as they had something to make Corlys accept the proposal of his marriage to Rhaenyra.

"These pirates are not the Free Cities," Corlys said in argument. "Who do you think provides them with their ships and tender?" His brother questioned, trying to defuse the situation. To be honest, if he played up the threat, the more likely the chance was that Corlys would accept the proposal.

"In all of its history, my lord, the Seven Kingdoms have never entered open war with the Free Cities. Were that to happen, the losses would be incalculable." Thank you, Lord Beesbury. But Corlys wasn't satisfied with that answer. He could understand that much of the trade of House Velaryon passed through the Stepstones. As he walked toward the Master of Coin.

"What reason does the Crabfeeder have to fear us?" Corlys spoke in a low voice; it sounded authoritative. Lord Beesbury didn't respond; he continued. "The King's own brother has been allowed to seize Dragonstone and fortify it with an army of his Gold Cloaks. It is an insult to the true heir, the crown, and my house as my daughter will marry the current Prince of Dragonstone. Prince Daemon has squatted there for over three moons without even a protest from The Crown." True enough, his brother had forbidden him from going to Daemon and claiming his rightful stead back. Another slight Daemon had given him and the king; the man was truly the Rogue Prince.

He and his brother looked at each other, knowing that what Daemon had done hurt them. For they let Daemon do his thing, and after the marriage, he would go and stamp his authority on the situation. They hadn't heard from their brother since the night Viserys banished Daemon.

"I'll caution you, Lord Corlys," spoke Otto, causing them both to look at the Hand. "A seat at the King's table does not make you his equal," the Hand finished.

His brother waited for a moment of silence as he spoke again. "I have acted, Corlys. I've sent envoys to Pentos and Volantis to see if we might find a common cause. Ships and men are at the ready. The Stepstones will be settled in time." Well, give him some supplicant. But then a small surprise came. "We are dragonriders, Father." Rhaenyra had spoken up.

"Send us," true although even if Rhaenyra wasn't fully aware of what her father was doing. It was a plan; he also knew he would have to go to war. To be honest, sometimes war was easier than politics. His brother looked at him pained but had come with something and spoke up. "It isn't that simple, Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra looked at him, looking hurt. Her father dismissed her so easily. "The Princess means we show strength. To let them know the throne isn't to be trifled with. There must be a solution, for sure, but we have to see if we can have Volantis and Pentos to attack them as well. The fewer Westerosi lives are lost, the better," he spoke up, and the relief was on everyone's face.

"Well, at least the heir has some explanation to give for me, as well as the princess, thank you," Corlys spoke more softly, with a mocking tone to it.

"Umm, perhaps it is best if we send the prince and princess to have a look at the knight we have gathered for them. It would suit their talents better," the Hand spoke up. "Why, Lord Hand?" He asked before Otto could speak again. "Me going before the end of the small council meeting isn't needed for the Kingsguard position. That can happen after. You also choose these knights; aren't you supposed to come as well? To tell me and the princess about them?" He spoke, and Otto looked at him as if been smacked.

"No words, good now were we? Yes, the Stepstones, perhaps in the future, we can formulate a plan, and if the crown will invest in an attack on the Stepstone," he spoke with authority. "Otto, my brother is right. He needs the information about the knights. So what else did we have to arrange today?" Otto looked toward his brother.

"The queenship, Your Grace," Otto spoke up. "The queen's passing has been a tragedy. But we have now an heir in Prince Aemon and the princess. If anything were to happen to them, the crown would be without an heir." That bastard. "Lord Hand, my nephew, and my good-sister haven't passed away four moons ago. The realm is more secure. We also have our sister. If you are so worried about an heir. She may be young, but wise for her years," he spoke, and his brother and niece were relieved there wasn't anything more to speak about.

"But the crown needs a queen. It would heal the realm from good Queen Aemma's passing," Melos spoke up, and he drew blood from his hand as he gripped them tight. To keep himself from raging at the man. You cut the woman open when there was a chance she would live, he raged inside.

"Enough, no more words about the queenship. Is there more to speak about, or are we done for today?" His brother spoke angered, clearly not in the mood to speak again.

"Yes, brother, I have dealt with the city watch since my brother left. But I can't keep up the slack; they need a true commander. I say we permanently appoint one from the men of the watch itself. I already know the best replacement." He paused and looked at the master of laws. "The son of the Master of Laws. Ser Harwin Strong, I have tested him, and he is strong, holds authority, and has a good education. Thanks to our Master of Laws," he spoke, let someone try, and deny the proposition.

"A fine choice. I wish to speak with him privately, but if he comes over well, I agree. Lord Lyonel, is your son prepared for a task like that?" One more council member is loyal, although Lyonel was always someone who was a man who spoke his mind. A true servant, perhaps a future match for his own girl and those of Harwin could be made.

"He is, Your Grace. He already was in the guard before and has been a knight for 2 years. As a future lord, I also approached the change for him to gain more experience. So my thanks go out to Prince Aemon for the offer," Lord Lyonel spoke and toward him a smile, and he nodded in appreciation.

"Good, then I think that we are done for today. I will meet with Harwin on the morrow." His brother said, everyone gave him a small bow and started to leave the chamber.

Rhaenyra Targaryen (107 A.C.)

She waited on the balcony with Aemon, who had joined her after the Council meeting. He had defended her in the meeting and scolded Otto for it. It was different from the way Daemon fought Otto, using insults to shut him up. Aemon used wording based on reason, and in those moments, you could see a king in him.

"Ser Desmond Caron, a fine knight, my prince and princess," Ser Steffon announced. Ser Desmond stepped forward, and Steffon continued, "Step forward, Son of Ser Royce Caron. Ser Desmond has proven both strong and steady, in both the tourney list and without. While traveling through the Kingswood on his way to Kingslanding, he brought a would-be poacher to justice." Steffon and Ser Caron stepped forward.

"You might thank him, niece," Aemon whispered in her ear, his closeness sending shivers down her spine. "We thank you for your loyal service to the crown, Ser," she said, though she couldn't help but think it was a small deed. The knight gave her a small bow.

Then Ser Steffon placed an eagle of Mallister down. "Ser Rymun Mallister. Son of Lord Lymond Mallister of Seagard. Winner of the melee at Cider Hall. He was the last mounted of three-and-twenty knights and became a knight at eight-and-ten." Steffon spoke, but she interrupted him with a question.

"Do any of these knights have combat experience beyond capturing poachers?" Steffon smiled, and said, "Ser Criston Coll, Son of the steward of the Lord of Blackhaven." "Uncle, if you rode against him, what do you think?" she asked. He smiled as he walked to the railing. "He rode well and spoke about how I was the best he jousted against before. Still, I haven't seen him fight, nor the others. It will also bring out their character. I propose we go into the yard and test their skills. If they can land a hit against me, they go through to the next round. Until one is left. I'll have them face Harold and one of my Oathguards."

"A fine idea, my prince, a small consent to see who is best equipped to guard the family," Ser Steffon agreed with a nod. "Otto, please inform us on the way about each house and how it benefits the crown. I may use them in my personal guard for those who won't pass." Her uncle directed Otto.

While walking to the training yard, Otto explained what each house brought to their region and why. Aemon became most interested in Mallister, as they helped protect against Reavers of the Iron Isle, influencing trade at Sea Dragon Point. She still had much to learn, and Aemon always helped before his departure. Now, as she was to become queen, he offered to help again.

In the yard

Not much later, in the yard, her uncle spoke with authority, "Well, Ser, please stand ready. If you can get hit, you qualify for the next round, where you have to duel against one of the Kingsguard, Ser Harrold, or my the of my Oathguard Horrik. After that, the final combatants will fight each other until one remains. When you fight against me, don't pull your punches."

"First up, Ser Caron," and the knight charged at her uncle. Aemon gave her a wink as he dodged and slashed downward, surprising the knight with his speed. The knight blocked but was not used to a dual wielder. Aemon's left hand made a forward thrust, and his uncle had his blade at the knight's throat.

"Good, Ser, not bad, but as a Kingsguard, I can't let you through. Though, if you are so inclined, Ser Caron, present yourself to my Captain of the Oathguard. There is a place for you there if you are up for it." Her uncle said, making the knight smile.

The day went on, and four of the later nine knights were able to land a hit on her uncle. Only Ser Criston and the Mallister Knight remained. Eventually, Ser Criston won, and her uncle walked up to the combatants after the Mallister knight yielded. He spoke words, shook the Mallister knight's hand, and seemed to thank him. Then he turned to Criston with a stern face. Criston knelt and presented his blade.

"Rise, Criston, and rise as a Kingsguard," Aemon said, then he looked over toward her. "Do you agree as well, niece, if you are not convinced?" "I'm convinced, uncle. He fought well and makes a fine Kingsguard," she said with a smile. "Steffon, it seems we have to start an investiture for Ser Criston," she added, speaking to Ser Steffon, who nodded.

The Sept

In the sept, she walked with Alicent, discussing recent events. "It's only been four moons since my mother died, and already they tried to marry my father off. Your father even proposed talking about it in the last council session. If not for Aemon, we would have been sent away," she shared as they walked around the round table full of flickering candles.

"You cannot worry about the matters of lords and kings, Rhaenyra," Alicent said, pausing to ask a question. "What if your father were to remarry?" The question hit her hard. She didn't want her father to remarry. She feared what would happen to Aemon, their marriage, and her role. Her father was more attentive toward her now. But if he had a wife and more children, would she still fit into that picture?

She wanted to tell her friend about the marriage, but it wasn't yet time. "Your father loves, I saw your bond during the funeral. That will never go away," Alicent reassured her. After lighting a candle, Alicent said, "Kneel with me."

She knelt beside her friend and looked around. "I find a nice way to feel close to my mother, in the quiet of the sept. I know it sounds foolish." "No, it doesn't," she said, placing her hand on Alicent's arm. "Good, I thought you might say that," Alicent said, handing her a candle.

"I'm not sure—" "If not for me, then for them," Alicent urged on, lighting the candle. "What do I say?" "Whatever you wish, it is for you and the gods to know," Alicent said.

She looked up and towards the ceiling, thinking of her wishes and losses—her mother and little brother who died in her arms, and Aemon, the one person she trusted and loved. After all those thoughts flooded her mind, she sobbed a little.

"I want my father to see me more than his little girl. He doesn't still wish his almost thirteen-year-old daughter to marry her uncle in two moon turns." If there was one gift her father had given her, it was that.

"My own father doesn't know the languages of girls either," Alicent said, and they both held in a small laugh. "If I wish to talk with him, I know I must make the effort." Alicent looked at her lovingly. "Thank you." They both took each other's hands in friendship.

Laena Velaryon (107 A.C.)

She lay on Aemon's bed, a place they had shared many times since he was named heir. Just lying in bed with him brought her a sense of peace, and they had even shared kisses. But, oh, how she longed for more. Then his door swung open, and Rhaenyra walked in.

"Aemon, we need to talk. I was wondering if we could discuss our marriage and the War in the Stepstones. Father and I just had dinner, and he wants you to join him tomorrow..." She stopped speaking when she saw Laena on the bed, and Laena's anger flared.

"Laena, hey, I thought Aemon was inside because the door was unlocked." Rhaenyra looked at her, her face turning as red as a beet. "I'll go, I'll come back later," Rhaenyra began to say, but she couldn't hold back her frustration any longer. "No, wait. You mentioned our marriage to him. You're going to tell me what's going on, or I will march to my father right now," she declared, sitting up from the bed.

"I can't say, it's the king's orders. But, Aemon, let's wait until he's here; he can tell you. I assume you were waiting for him here?" Rhaenyra asked, her voice filled with nervousness.

"Yes, he should be here. I always come by at this hour. I suppose he was delayed," She replied with an undertone of anger. She planned to give Aemon a piece of her mind when he returned.

About half an hour later, Aemon finally entered the room. "Sorry, Laena, I had a lengthy discussion with my mother. It took longer than expected," he explained, but when he saw Rhaenyra sitting on the bed, he seemed taken aback. "So, betrothed, I suppose you have something to tell me. Or am I still your betrothed, as my cousin here mentioned our marriage? I'm sure she meant you and not me. Am I being set aside for the king's daughter?" Her words were harsh, and she didn't intend to paint Rhaenyra as a seductress. She even choked up at the end.

"No, no, my love," Aemon rushed to reassure her. He ran over to Laena and knelt before her, taking her hand in his. "The king has decreed a marriage between the three of us. I will follow in Aegon's footsteps, two wives, because the dragon must have three heads. It will be that we are to be the three future monarchs of the Seven Kingdoms." He stood up and kissed her.

"I have already drafted a will, a succession plan, to ensure the strength of our house for decades to come. Thanks to the law of exceptionalism, it is possible. I never wanted to keep the truth from you; I would have told you if you had asked, just as I vowed to on Driftmark. I love you, and you will never be set aside. But now, I also care for Rhaenyra in that way. I'm sorry for causing you pain, my dear. Please, don't turn me into a pile of ash," he said with a hopeful smile.

"Oh, you fool! But why now? The king's proposal is dangerous, and the marriage will be questioned. My father will not easily accept it," Laena retorted, her anger flaring up. Then she remembered what Rhaenyra had mentioned. "The Stepstones, you're going to tell him about that tomorrow, aren't you?" She asked, and he nodded. A troubling thought came to her. "No, no, you will not go to war, Aemon," she said, her voice laced with both anger and fear. Aemon gave her a pained look, suggesting that he would.

"Aemon, I knew Father might allow for an attack on the Stepstones, but I never thought you would join in the fighting; you are the heir and only fourteen namedays old," Rhaenyra said, her voice tinged with shock. It appeared that she hadn't considered that possibility either.

Corlys Velaryon (107 A.C.) 

Lyanna had spoken to him and had heard of the proposal; it was the best match. For the King, Visenya had the blood of two of the most prestigious bloodlines, he admitted grudgingly. House Velaryon had its roots in Valyria, but they were never dragon lords. His children were, and they were his pride. Soon, his daughter would marry the heir to the throne, and any slight against him and his wife would be rectified.

When Corlys received the summons to the council chamber of the king, his thoughts were a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He couldn't be certain of the reason for the summons, but he had a strong feeling it was to reprimand him for his behavior in the previous small council session. His outspokenness had been interpreted as brazen, but he believed he was justified in expressing his views.

As he entered the council chamber and laid eyes on Ser Steffon and Harrold waiting, he noted the presence of Aemon as well. "Lord Corlys has arrived, Your Graces," Ser Steffon announced, signaling his entrance.

"My king, my prince, what is the pleasure of this meeting? Before we start, I would like to apologize for yesterday. I let my temper over the loss of men and ships get the better of me. It was not my intention to cause offense." He said as he walked in and gave them both a bow.

"Your fleet is indeed one of the realm's most crucial assets, Lord Corlys. However, I had not yet decided whether I wished to embark on a military campaign, and the commencement of such was not my desire. But, after a thorough discussion with my heir, I have come to a decision. I will grant you leave to go, and consider it a form of compensation, to a decree." He said and looked toward his heir. Finally, the king was listening, and once again Aemon was the one who was the head behind it. He felt sated then, but what did the king mean by compensation?

"After Aemma's death, I promised myself I would protect her legacy and our house. I will let the realm see why Aegon the Conqueror chose the three-headed dragon all those years ago. My brother and heir will carry that legacy, of Aegon's and Aemma's. He will do as he did, and it will set a new precedent that the heir and king will have two wives, to represent house Targaryen. A dragon must have three heads." The king ended. What? He was trying to stay calm.

"Lord Corlys, I will marry my niece and Laena, before you say anything. Laena knows, and she knows my feelings for her and Rhaenyra. I haven't dishonored her. It was never my intention to, but looking at it now, it allows me to hold to Aemma's request. It will also lessen the burden on the queen. I have seen what it does to women," Aemon spoke, and speaking of Aemma's caused him grief. It was also clear it wasn't his choice or suggestion. Laena knew, and she hadn't told him. She loved Aemon; she had told her mother as much, and she him. He knew of her bond with Aemon.

"Damn by the seven hells, I can't believe this. I better get what you promised me. Also, if your grace remarries and gains a son, you will never change the succession; Aemon will stay the heir. I also want it written, my blood will sit on the throne." He said, and he looked at Aemon, who gave him a look. He had suspected it; he would demand it. And pushed toward him two scrolls.

The Marriage Pact of the Seahorse and the Dragon

In the light of the Seven and the eyes of Gods and Men, we, the undersigned, do solemnly declare and commit to this sacred bond of marriage, a bond that transcends the customary laws and traditions of the great House Targaryen, known as the Dragon.

I, Prince Aemon Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone and Seadragon Point, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, do hereby pledge myself to a union with two noble ladies, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lady Laena Velaryon.

This union is founded upon the principle of exceptionalism, a doctrine that recognizes the unique nature of House Targaryen, where the customary rules of men do not fully apply. By the grace of the dragons that course through our veins, we shall forge a connection that binds our houses in perpetuity.

In the event of an heir being born to Aemon Targaryen, our firstborn son shall be designated as the heir to carry the mantle of our legacy forward. This heir may be sired by either Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen or Lady Laena Velaryon, as fate dictates.

In this manner, a daughter of either Laena or Rhaenyra shall be wed to the heir, ensuring that the noble blood of both houses shall grace the illustrious Iron Throne. Thus, the dragon and the seahorse shall etch their indelible mark within the annals of history, and their profound influence shall resonate throughout the realm and history.

The second wife shall be before either of the lines of a sister, cousin, or aunt. So shall the line of dragon hold strong.

Upon the passing of his grace King Viserys, Aemon shall be crowned. Non shall before him, in the line succession. Even if His Grace may be blessed with a son.

In solemn witness and confirmation, witnessed under the auspices of His Grace King Viserys Targaryen, in this year after conquest 107 A.C. First Moon. .

His Grace King Viserys Targaryen: [Signature written in blood]

His Prince Aemon Targaryen: [Signature written in blood]

His Lordship Corlys Velaryon: [Awaiting Lord Corlys's signature]

He sight as read, it was a sign, and it wasn't something that unbreakable. This way his blood would sit on the throne, and it also secured the throne.

Then he read the second scroll.

The Royal Edict of the a dragon has three heads

In reverence of the venerable Marriage Pact of the Seahorse and the Dragon, a sacred covenant consecrated under the watchful eyes of the Seven, the Valyrian Phantom, the ancient gods the first men, and under the ever-vigilant gaze of Gods and Men, we hold steadfast in our unwavering respect for the unique and exalted nature of House Targaryen. We, who are born of blood more ancient and potent than that of common men, and who are heirs to an ancient and illustrious dynasty, recognize that the conventional customs and laws of our forefathers pale in comparison to our grandeur.

This exceptionalism, embedded within the hallowed Doctrine of Exceptionalism, extends to the sanctified union of noble houses, manifesting in the institution of a polygamous tradition among the heirs to the Iron Throne. This tradition embodies the resolute spirit of preserving our venerable lineage, consolidating our indomitable strength, and uniting our dynasty in an unbreakable brotherhood, as decreed by our Valyrian heritage and celestial destiny.

From this day forth, let it be known to all, and let no man dare challenge it, that every heir to the Iron Throne shall bask in the distinguished privilege and bear the solemn duty of entering into polygamous matrimony. This sacred tradition, heralded by the illustrious Prince Aemon Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone and Seadragon Point, stands as a beacon of our lineage and legacy, a legacy of Valyrian purity and majesty that courses through our veins, in adherence to the Doctrine of Exceptionalism.

It is essential to recognize that should a king or heir, by ill-fated circumstance, already possess two spouses, and should one of these dear consorts befall tragedy, the selection of a new spouse shall rest unreservedly upon the regal discretion and pleasure of the king or heir in question, for the glory of House Targaryen knows no confines.

In this sacred union, the consorts may be chosen from among those of Valyrian descent, celebrating the heritage that binds us, or from among those who share our blood, as our noble kin, in strict accordance with the precepts of the Doctrine of Exceptionalism. This privilege is extended to the king or heir as a testament to the enduring strength and unity of our bloodline, a testament that transcends the common laws of men.

With this royal edict, we solemnly uphold and venerate the hallowed traditions of House Targaryen, and the undying spirit of the Doctrine of Exceptionalism, ensuring an unwavering unity and an unparalleled might that will echo through the ages.

By the grace and majesty of His Grace King Viserys Targaryen, bestowed upon us in the year of our conquest, 107 A.C.

His Grace King Viserys Targaryen: [Signature written in blood]

If he was honest, the whole thing was written very well. It seemed Aemon had thought of it very carefully. The scrolls, adorned with intricate seals and, held more than just legal implications. They were a manifestation of fire and song, a blending of tradition and lore that seemed to echo through the ages. As he read through the carefully crafted words, he couldn't help but appreciate the weight of history they carried.

"It appears you've delved into more than just legal matters, my prince. These scrolls, they're not just a pact; they're a symphony to our shared histories," he remarked, his gaze lingering on the Valyrian Steel dagger handed to him. The blade, too, was a reforged relic of old Valyria, a piece of the past that now played a role in shaping the future.

"Well, I suppose the blood is mightier than ink, may I use the dagger, my prince, let the cut be true," he said, a hint of amusement as he cut his thumb, as the blood dripped in blow he carefully signed the document. His blood seemed to shimmer in the candlelight, as if infused with dragonfire.

Aemon nodded, "The history of our house is rich, and in times like these, it's essential to draw upon the wisdom of our ancestors. The edict of the three heads will keep the royal line for generations."

As the signatures dried, He couldn't help but think of the songs sung about their two house, the fiery tales of conquest, and the blood of the dragon, on his house now shared. This new chapter, with its unconventional marriage arrangement, would undoubtedly become a verse in the upcoming history. History remembered names, not blood.

"Well, let the die be cast," he repeated, not just referring to the marriage but acknowledging the weight of decisions that would shape the destiny of the realm.

"True enough, all too, let's be honest, the Faith signed its rights away to complain the moment they adopted the doctrine of Exceptionalism," Aemon added with a smile.

"Although it won't be like the last time, we have strong figures behind the throne." He said as looked at the King and Prince. How both gave him a smile.

"Well, on the morrow I will announce the match. I suppose soon enough the realm will hear the news. Letters will be sent out across the realm to announce the marriage pact," Viserys said, as they all looked at each other and nodded.

"Corlys we will soon be starting planning the campaign. I hope in half a year, we can set sail or earlier depending on how everything will be going," he gave Aemon a smile and bowed to them both as he left the chambers, and he noticed as he was sweating, what would happen was something to take lightly. These were trickly times for his house. 

Viserys Targaryen (107 A.C.)

After Corlys had left, Aemon asked him to stay, wanting to discuss something in private. "Your Grace, I have a suggestion for you. It's about the next queen. As much as I know we both don't want to discuss it, it has to be spoken about. The best way would be a betrothal with someone with Valyrian blood," Aemon said, giving him a knowing look before continuing. "You know of whom I speak, brother, and she is very dear to both of us," Aemon said, his voice steady and strong.

"Aemon, as I said in the council yesterday, I don't want to remarry." But who did he mean, with Valyrian blood? "It has to be someone who wouldn't question the future succession and has to be a strong match, not one that the realm would disagree with," Aemon said firmly.

"Brother, who do you speak of?" he asked, growing more irritated.

"Visenya, Viserys. I have discussed it with my mother, and we are both in agreement she is the best match for you. Even though she is young, she knows her duty to her house. Visenya is also part of the two greatest houses of the realm. The realm would accept the match, and it would bring stability to the succession."

He sighed, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth. "Aemon, I appreciate your concern, but the idea of marrying our younger sister is... unsettling, to say the least. She's but a child, and the notion of betrothing her to me raises many questions and concerns. She is even younger than Rhaenyra. What about Rhaenyra, my daughter? How would she take this news?"

Aemon met his brother's gaze, unflinching. "Rhaenyra is a smart and understanding girl. She knows the importance of securing the succession. And Visenya is not just any child. She's of Valyrian blood, and that of the First Men, and the ancient line of the kings of winter. She is strong and capable, like her mother. She would be a fitting match for you, and the realm would acknowledge the stability it brings." His brother spoke evenly; he was sure Aemon did not really want this, but for the realm, it seemed he would.

He rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the crown on his head. "Aemon, I have concerns about the age difference. Visenya is barely a woman, and I could be her father. It feels... unnatural."

Aemon sighed and spoke. "Brother, I know it's difficult, but age and being family have never been a barrier in our family. What matters is the future of the dynasty." (A little insight into Aemon's thoughts: speaking of his sister this way made him want to vomit, but if he wanted peace in the land, it had to be done.)

"Viserys, I understand your reservations. Visenya is still a child, and the idea of a marriage at this moment may seem hasty. I propose that we make a betrothal agreement, but the actual marriage will not take place until she reaches her fourteenth nameday. This way, you have time to grieve for Aemma, and for Visenya to mature." His brother said, giving him some comfort. Six years; he would have the time. Even in that time, his brother could have children.

Viserys looked up, a glimmer of relief in his eyes. "Fourteen namedays would give her time to grow, and it allows me the space I need. But what of Rhaenyra, how do I explain this to her?"

Aemon replied with a reassuring tone, "Explain it as a measure to secure the future. Tell her that this betrothal is for the stability of the Targaryen dynasty. Rhaenyra will understand the importance of ensuring the succession."

His thoughts went to the woman who was healing his wound and something both Rhaenyra and Aemon weren't aware of. Alicent, a woman who had quietly woven herself into his life, visited him in secret. Their clandestine meetings were a refuge from the demands of the court and the complexities of royal politics.

"I will think on it, Aemon. I'll speak to Lyanna about it and perhaps speak with Visenya. We haven't had many chances to speak. Thank you for bringing it up; I know it wasn't easy for you either." He said with a small tired smile.

"I wish for you to have a nice evening, brother. I'll speak with my mother and come to discuss the betrothal with you in the morning, and after, you and Visenya can speak in private." Aemon said, bowed, and left the chamber, leaving him to contemplate the proposal.

The Royal Gardens.

As the ship glided into the harbor, he stood, a mixture of anticipation and reluctance playing on his face. He acknowledged Aemon's greeting with a nod and Lyanna's with a strained smile.

"Morning, Your Grace," Aemon spoke in a mocking tone. "It is, brother, a very nice one. Lyanna, you look lovely as well."

Lyanna gave him a bow and spoke, addressing the tension in the air. "Viserys, before you say anything, I know you aren't comfortable with the proposal my son brought." She looked toward Aemon before continuing. "Neither am I, nor is Aemon, but this match is the best for the realm. My daughter is still young, but the agreed proposal would stop the questioning for a new queen. It would also allow us all to let Aemma's and Baelon's passing be softened. In that time, my daughter comes of age, you both could become accustomed to the marriage." Lyanna said, holding his hands with a smile.

He listened, his expression contemplative. "I also know you are a kind man, and I couldn't hope for a better husband for my daughter. I also know you have learned from Aemma." She started kindly but ended more firmly. "I do, very much. I would never hurt her, and I also understand it's the best match for the realm. It would also keep the family united. Except for Daemon; he still hasn't responded to us. But soon enough, we will make sure he learns his place."

"The proposal would announce to the realm the crown's strongest days are ahead, not behind. Also, with upcoming announcements of both Laena and Rhaenyra, it would show a united house. Even with Daemon being a Rogue, it would send out a strong message." Aemon said, looking at him with authority and a voice that reminded him of his father.

"I shall speak with her. Then, I hope she is here. It has been some time since I have spoken with her." He said, trying to stay calm. "Yes, she waits with Patch; I will go and summon her," Lyanna said and walked away.

"Brother, have an open mind. It's not like you have to marry her tomorrow. Get to know her; she is both Ice and fire. Speak of dragons. Something you both have in common. Also, ask her about Patch; she will like that. I know you haven't got to know the wolf well." Aemon said as he waited for Lyanna and Visenya to arrive.

"Brothers," Visenya said, as she walked with her mother in hand to them. "Visenya, it has been some time; your shining hair really captures the sun." And it was true, Visenya's black raven hair was something to behold in the bright sun.

"Thank you, brother," Visenya said, a small blush creeping up her cheeks. Her eyes looked at them, and he could see Aemma in them, the same ones Aemma had. Although the color was a dark purple, he visibly gulped at the sight.

Then, he asked her to join him for a little walk and walked away from Lyanna and Aemon. They didn't say much. "Brother, what do you think of Patch?" Visenya blurted out after some time.

"She's something, sis, a true wolf for sure. A small piece of the North in the capital. She can stay, just like Ghost has." He said with a smile, and Visenya gave him a hug.

Then after they parted, he asked about her dragon, as he was reminded of Aemon's tips. "Yes, there are. But for now, let us enjoy this moment. Visenya, I heard you had the chance to experience riding a dragon."

Surprise flickered in Visenya's eyes, followed by genuine enthusiasm. "Indeed, brother. I've already ridden Dreamfyre, and before that, Aem's took me on The Black Dread. It was wonderful, and Dreamfyre felt very happy. She was sad; she hadn't had a rider since Rhaena. The bond with a dragon is truly magical, very similar to the one I have with Patch."

He smiled at her; she was a true Targaryen, both Ice and fire, with the fire of a dragon. "I understand; flying with Gonynar was always a great pastime of mine. Although I haven't for some time, since your good-sister passed." He said, his tone a bit somber. "Oh, then I go flying with you; brother can smile again," Visenya said happily. Perhaps it would be good if he did.

As they continued their conversation, the shared bond with dragons became a point of connection between them. While he still guarded about the betrothal proposal, he found common ground with his younger sister. The dragons, with their majestic wings and fiery breath, seemed to be a bridge between duty and shared passion in the complex world of House Targaryen. He just hoped he could overcome his grief for Aemma, but as he looked at his sister, he vowed to himself that he would never make the same mistake again.

Viserys' bedchambers the following morning.

He sat waiting, as he had just had a small dinner with Alicent. The bright young woman had been a blessing on his day and had given some good insight into his daughter. "The Small Council is urging me to remarry. However, my brother and stepmother have given me another choice. It seems the realm wants a new queen," He spoke, giving Alicent a smile, who returned it. He wanted to speak with someone, not his Hand or Small Council members; he just wanted a friend, and Alicent had provided him with that.

Then Alicent spoke, "A good and kind queen will give comfort to your subjects." Giving him a warm smile. "Does the Small Council or your brother have a particular lady in mind?" She asked.

"The Small Council so far has not given any names. My brother, however, has proposed to engage in a betrothal with our sister Visenya." To be honest, speaking it aloud still made him uneasy, as he started to wipe some of the bread crumbs off his tunic, in his nervousness of speaking about the subject.

"A strong match, Your Grace, that of Valyrian and ancient First Men descent," Alicent spoke with a smile. "Yes, that's true. I just... she is my sister, and is more than old enough to be my daughter. Also, I haven't spent much time with her." He said, and that was true; only at Aemon's urging had he really had. Visenya was a stranger to him, as she had spent most of her life in the North, but from what he had seen, she was a bright young girl.

"I'm sure that she is good and kind, like her brothers and her lady mother. And that she shall enjoy your company, as I have, Your Grace." Alicent said with a smile, and he gave her a smile back.

Then she picked up a box and placed it in front of him. "I brought you something." Then he picked up the box and opened it; he smiled. Inside was the dragon that had fallen in their last meeting. "I asked the stonemason to mend it." She gave him another smile.

"This is a very kind gesture, Alicent, very kind." He said as he looked at the small stone dragon. Then they were interrupted when a knock came at the door. "Come," He spoke up, and they both straightened themselves.

"The Hand, Your Grace," Ser Steffon announced, and Otto came walking, looking at them. "Your Grace, I've called a Small Council to an emergency session." What was happening now that he had this moment had to be interrupted? "What is it?" He asked, a little frustrated, as he enjoyed this peaceful moment.

"I think it's best if you hear it directly," Otto said, with a bowing head. He got up and gave a nod toward Alicent and walked away with Otto.

He sat down and nodded toward Otto to start. Otto, in turn, nodded toward the dragon keeper. The man spoke in High Valyrian, "A dragon egg has been stolen, my lords and graces. It occurred in the blackness of night, during the Hour of the Bat. The thief escaped our pursuit." The man named Lothar said, his head hanging down in shame.

"How is it possible that a dragon's egg was stolen from beneath more than fifty Dragonkeepers?" he said, unsure of what to make of this. Who would have stolen a dragon's egg? "It was Prince Daemon who was the culprit, Your Grace…" The man said. Daemon, why would he steal a dragon's egg, and what did he now plan to do?

"Daemon," he spoke aloud. "The prince left a missive, which I believe might explain." Otto nodded and gestured toward Melos. "It is the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the Iron Throne, to announce that he is to take a second wife in the tradition of Old Valyria." He did what? The man was going to take a second wife, and if he did, it would undermine the entire new royal edict that the dragon has three heads. It could not stand, and who was the woman who had been so foolish to accept the proposal?

"The lady in question is Lady Mysaria, who shall assume the title of Princess Mysaria of Lady Dragonstone after the wedding." For the sake of the Seven, Daemon, the woman from the brothels you have spoken about for so long.

"Her Grace is with child and is to have a dragon's egg placed in the babe's cradle, in the custom of House Targaryen. My line shall sit the throne, and I do not accept the usurpation of my rightful place. I asked the King to join and bless my heir that will make House Targaryen great again. The wedding is in two days' time. I invite you, my brother." Melos finished and stared back at him.

"Who is Lady Mysaria?" Corly questioned. "My brother's whore, Lord Corlys, who worked in one of the pleasure houses of King's Landing. I am quite sure they have been involved for some time, from what I heard about the Gold Cloaks. I'm also sure about how he got in and out of the city. Still, some loyalists are on the guard from those who haven't deserted to him on Dragonstone," Aemon said, his voice a low growl. "It's true, the prince is correct. Mysaria is Daemon's whore," Otto spoke again.

"This is nothing less than sedition," Otto said, giving a disapproving look. "I strongly agree, sire," Lyonel said in support. Daemon, Daemon, why could you not just do your duty? "My brother wishes to provoke me, and to answer is to give him what he wants. If I go, it would show we go by his word."

"The realm is watching, Your Grace, and the Prince has written of usurpation in the letter, saying your word isn't law. Especially now, we can't have that." Corlys said in firm voice. It was true; with the upcoming announcement of the Edict of the Dragon has Three Heads, having an open defiance would be imprudent.

"What would you have me do, march to Dragonstone, and put his head on a spike?" he said, turning toward Corlys.

"Daemon has seized Dragonstone and has surrounded himself with an army of disloyal Gold Cloaks. He also has now stolen a dangerous weapon. Brother, as much as I would want to go to Dragonstone and punish Daemon for his actions, only Cararex's he has the blood wyrm. I don't want to go there and clash with him, although I wouldn't be denied, we would win. It also would not be good if I were to kill my namesake's dragon. Now where would we be if we started my heirship with kinslaying and the death of a dragon?" His brother's voice was firm, with a hint of sadness.

Still, the man was his brother. What could he do, have his youngest brother and heir kill their brother? But then his thoughts were interrupted by his daughter, and she spoke softly in High Valyrian. He couldn't hear what she said, but then she spoke with more force. "Which egg did Daemon take?" Her eyes had some tears in them.

"Dreamfyre egg, Your Grace," Lothar spoke, and then he gave him a look. Please, Daemon, don't do what I think you have. He already started to gain a headache.

Then Lothar looked back at Rhaenyra and spoke, "The same one that you chose for Prince Baelon's cradle." The man ended, and his anger boiled over. "Otto, have attachments ready, and you, Lothar, saddle Gonganyar. I'm going to Dragonstone; it's time my brother knows his place, faces justice for his insubordination." "I will stand by you, brother," Aemon said, his voice having the same fury as him.

"Your Grace, my prince," Otto interrupted his walk out. "My apologies, Your Grace, but I cannot allow it. It's too dangerous. Let me go to Dragonstone. Daemon is without limit. There is a chance that during the parley, he will kill you and your chosen heir. Let me go to Dragonstone," Otto said, his voice even. To be honest, considering how badly Daemon had acted, he couldn't be so unsure; he wouldn't. It broke his heart; he actually was considering the possibility.

Then a loud bang. They all looked back at the table where Aemon had been sitting. "Your grace, if I may." Aemon looked at him, and he nodded. "Otto, give my brother this." The dragon dagger Aemon had forged for Daemon. It had been a set of three; he had one, and Aemon and Daemon were supposed to have one—A dragon has three heads. But now it seemed the heads were attacking each other. "Tell him, if he returns to Runestone and does his duty, I will forgive him as his future king. Tell him this is the second time; there won't be a third for insubordination," Aemon said with a sigh. "I have the same sentiment; if he agrees to send away this Lady Mysaria, he will be allowed to retain his title of prince and will stay behind in the succession after Aemon, Rhaenyra, and then Visenya. He may, in time, return to Runestone; he may in time return to the fold," his brother said in response. One last chance for the Rogue Princess.

Alicent Hightower (107 A.C.)

Her father had summoned her. "So, any new news about the king?" Her father asked as she walked in. "He is apprehensive, about to be betrothed to Princess Visenya. He also seemed pleased with the gift I sent to him," she said, her voice apprehensive, as she helped clothe her father in the Hightower armor. "It's time, daughter, for you to do your duty to your family. If we wait much longer, Aemon will push for the betrothal; the man isn't as impulsive as his brother," he said, his voice firm and hard. Thank the Seven, Aemon wasn't.

Then she put on his cloak, and he took her hands. "You are the most comely girl at court," he asked and paused before continuing. "Why do you destroy yourself?" He asked his voice part annoyance and perhaps some sadness. But she didn't answer so he continued. "I will be gone for perhaps three days or more. One of those days, expect a result. You will visit the king in the evenings. I also have left you some stronger wine. It will help dull his wits; don't drink too much yourself," he said, then looked at her with those stern eyes. "If you wish, father, I will do my duty," she curtsied, although it took some effort not to break down.

Ever since her father had sent her to the king, she had been stressed. Now he had given her the command to bed the king, and there was a chance her reputation would be ruined. But her father only wanted influence and Hightower blood on the throne. She was taught to do her duty, and she would obey.

Then a knock came, and she saw Ser Criston waiting at the door. "Good day, Ser Criston." "My lady, I've assembled 20 of your best household guards, my Lord Hand. Ser Steffon will also join us," Ser Criston said. Her father let her go, and she walked toward the door.

"Take good care of the Hand, Ser Criston," she said as she left for her chambers. She had two or three days to do what her father asked. To bed someone she didn't want, but she had her duty for her family. Perhaps she still could have something she desired if she would be a wife to a man she didn't love or desire. Then, at least, she would have something for herself.

Her thoughts drifted to Aemon, the memory of their shared kiss dancing like a flickering flame in the recesses of her mind. The taste of adventure still lingered on her lips, a stark contrast to the duty that lay ahead. She closed her eyes, savoring the memory of the magical dragon ride that had brought them closer. It was a brief respite from the demands of her station, a stolen moment of joy.

As she stood there, clad in vulnerability, she wondered if there was a way to keep a sliver of that joy for herself. A spark of rebellion ignited. She would not allow duty to consume her entirely. If she must fulfill her obligation to her family, she would find a way to preserve a fragment of her own desires.

The image of Aemon's face, his eyes filled with a warmth that matched the fire of the green of Hightower, fueled her determination. With newfound resolve, she adorned herself with a gown that accentuated her figure. Aemon was still a man, and perhaps if she could persuade him, she wanted a small thing for herself before she was wedded for duty.

She adored the necklace Aemon had given her, a silver necklace with a Valyrian steel Hightower pediment centerpiece. It was her most prized piece and a reminder of the friendship she had with Aemon and her desire for him.

With the cloak of duty worn over her shoulders and the glimmer of personal desire concealed beneath, she took a final look at herself in the mirror. She then left her chambers, making her way through the dimly lit corridors of the castle. The rhythmic tap of her shoes echoed her heartbeat as she approached the door to Aemon's chambers. Ser Harrold Westerling was waiting by the door, and an Oathguard, whose name she didn't know.

A moment of hesitation swept over her, but she banished it with the memory of their shared kiss. Alicent raised her hand and knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. The door opened, revealing Aemon's curious gaze.

When Aemon spoke, his voice a gentle inquiry, she felt a pang of sorrow. "Alicent, what are you doing here?" His words pierced through the silence, and she walked into the room, her steps echoing the same path Viserys had taken before. The door closed behind her with a dull thud, sealing her fate for the night.

His room was more than just opulent; it was a testament to his dedication and responsibilities. Books, swords, scrolls—evidence of the burdens he carried for the realm. As she glanced around, the realization sank in that duty had claimed a part of him, much like it was about to claim a part of her.

But seeing the evidence of his work made her even more sad about the fact her father wanted her to bed the king. Viserys only ever talked about his Valyrian model; Aemon had actually been building it for real in Seadragon Point.

"Aemon, I'm sorry for arriving at your door like this. I must confess, I have come here to ask a favor of you. It's something I desire and something my heart longs to do before I have to give my life to duty," she said, her voice weak, and true she was. Especially when she looked into his grey-purple eyes. "I wish for you to be my first, so may have a small memory of happiness with someone I deeply care for," She said, her voice a bit shaky. 

"Alicent, you know I'm betrothed," he replied, his voice tinged with kindness but also laced with a sense of apprehension. The truth of his commitment to another woman stung, a reminder that her desires were tethered to a reality she couldn't escape.

"Aemon, my father will soon wed me, and I will most likely leave court. I'm eighteen namedays; he has had many over the years as he was Hand, and..." Should I tell him about his brother? No, that revelation would only complicate matters, and she feared it might compromise the one small wish she dared to make. She couldn't speak more, then he spoke again. 

"I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression with the dragon ride and kindness toward you. Don't accept my rejection as if you are not worth it. You are a beautiful and smart woman," Aemon's words cut through her like a blade, and she couldn't bear to look into his eyes as the reality of her situation sank in. She fell into tears; she didn't want to marry Viserys or bed him. Let him be his first. But she knew she didn't have much choice in the matter.

Her tears flowed freely now, a testament to the overwhelming sadness that consumed her. She collapsed onto the bed, and Aemon, with a heavy heart, guided her down. As she sobbed into his chest, she couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, her dreams shattered by the harsh reality of duty and obligation.

"Alicent, please come sit on the bed," he said, helping her to the bed. "I have done my duty; your older brother wanted me, used me, humiliated me. He caused the city to call me the Hand's whore. A moniker I still hear, on occasion. I just want one thing for myself before I close myself, that part forever," she said, as she sobbed into his chest.

"Alicent, I'm sorry," he said, giving a heavy look toward the window as if he was thinking. Then he cupped her face and kissed her. She melted into the kiss, letting out a breath of relief when he did. "Why?" she asked after the kiss was broken.

"Because I know you, Alicent, have a good heart. We have been friends for years, and I want to do this for you. I know your father; it is something I would gift you. So remember, I will always be there for you," he said, and it melted her heart a little. Then she kissed him, and he kissed her back.

"Are you sure, Alicent? Isn't there any chance of going back after this? I can't do this without making that clear," he asked, his voice as clear as a waterfall. But with a concern for her wich melted her heart. "Yes, Aemon, I may not be with you, but I may yet have a small memory of you," she said, and he started to remove her dress until she was only in her smallclothes. There was a heat between her legs that reminded her of when they had kissed in the dragonpit or danced during feasts.

He kissed her body, and she flushed when he did. Then he lifted her smallclothes off, and he saw. He took in her body, making her flush. His manhood was erect under his smallclothes. He also took off his clothing and lifted his shirt off. She saw his chest; it was muscular. But then her eyes went to a scar on his right. It was an old one, four slashes. "Who did get that?" She asked as she trailed the scar.

"A bear swiped at me, he slashed my right arm, but Ghost saved after, and together we killed it. It's pled is on the floor of the main hall in Seadragon Point," he said, looking her in the eyes. He started to kiss her, and she eagerly returned it. Their tongues danced, and the sensation made her moan through the kissing. He moved his chest to press against hers. She was nervous, but the freedom she felt in this intimacy with the man she loved. She cherished this and it would be something she would remember.

He started to kiss her neck and slowly traced her body. Then to her surprise, he suckled one of her nipples and pinched the other, making her moan his name, "Aemon!" Let go of her proper lady behavior. Surrender to the pleasure and love she was receiving.

Then he went further down; she heard him whisper 'kissed by fire,' most likely mentioning her red-brown hair. Then he did something she did not expect. His tongue went down and started to work on her womanhood. He went inside and out and worked her lips of her womanhood. She gripped her sheets as she became undone; she was hit with a wave of pleasure and was in bliss. "Aemon…" She moaned blissfully.

"I suppose you liked that, Alicent," He said as he kissed her again, and she could smell herself on him. It made her blush, "I did, Aemon. It was something I didn't expect," she said as he lay against her, half entangled in each other. "What was it that you did with your…." She blushed, trailing with her hands over his chest.

His own had gone down to her legs. He used his finger to rub her nub, making her shiver in pleasure, as with the wetness of herself, it gave her a wonderful feeling. He also kissed her, and how experienced he was, she wondered if he had done this before.

He kissed her during that time, and she hoped it would never end. "Alicent, we can still stop; we don't have to continue?" He asked after he had come undone again, leaving her a sweaty mess. "No, Aemon, please take my maidenhead, I'm sure of my choice," she said as she held his face.

He stood up from the bed and walked toward his study. She looked at him as he walked past the fire that was burning in the hearth; it made him look godly. Then, and she hadn't before, she noticed the giant direwolf. She had totally forgotten about the wolf; she had been too much in her head to notice. Then Aemon picked up one of the blankets and walked back over to the bed.

"We place under, as, after it goes into the fire, it will hopefully cover up the tracks of what we have done," he said and placed the sheet on top of the bed and lifted her like she was a feather. He then took off his smallclothes, revealing for the first time his manhood. She was swollen a little and still nervous, but not afraid. She trusted Aemon to take care of her.

"Are you ready, Alicent?" She loved how he spoke her name in a loving tone. She gave him a nod, holding his gaze as he aligned his manhood with her entrance. She felt his manhood moving over her folds and wetness, and then as he pushed through her maidenhead, there was a small sharp pain that made her moan. She felt a ripping and fulling sensation, as if something was entering her. But seeing Aemon, she held him and kissed him. She felt pain, but it was more relief she felt than anything else. The thought that she would have no control would do this to her. At least now, for a while, she had a man who did.

"Aaa..." She moaned and partially hissed as he went deeper. "Are you alright?" He asked, and she nodded as he started slowly increasing his pace. The pain started to subside, and a pleasant throb was occurring.

"Aemon," she moaned his name as he started to go quicker, his manhood going up and down of her. She held on to him tightly, her legs around him, not wanting to let go of this intimacy. "Alicent," a small moan escaped from his lips as his breath became more ragged as were his movements. He looked in his and he into his as he kissed her deeply.

Both moaning, at last, he gave her three thrusts as he spilled inside of her. She felt the warmth of his seed inside as they kissed, and he rode out his climax. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that, Alicent," he said as he collapsed on her, his weight pressing against her but not something she wanted to stop.

"Don't be, Aemon. I am grateful for what you did, and always will," she kissed him, knowing tomorrow something else, she would surrender herself to duty. She would be savoring this moment for the rest of her life.

(Oathguard outfit is to be found on my Patreon Page.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you wish to support my work or join the Patreon community. (This link will be added to all the stories that will hit ten chapters). 

Follow the following link: patreon.com/user?u=120193792 

Thanks for all the support.