86 Chapter 84 - Interlude : The Commander
126 AC
Aemond Pov
The wind rushed through our hair as we soared above the city on the mighty wings of Vhagar. My little nephew, Jaehaerys, perched on the dragon's back, his excitement evident in his every gesture.
"Uncle, tell Vhagar to go faster!" Jaehaerys exclaimed, his voice carrying over the roar of the wind and the growls of the ancient dragon beneath us.
Vhagar, responding to the young Targaryen's impatience, growled in a way that conveyed her displeasure. I chuckled, glancing at Jaehaerys. "She is quite old, Jaehaerys. That's why she's a bit slow," I explained, and at the sound of my voice, Vhagar flapped her giant wings with newfound determination, her temperature rising as if to show she was up for the challenge. Jaehaerys hollered in delight, thoroughly enjoying the thrill of the ride.
As I observed my nephew, it struck me how quickly time had passed since his birth—three years filled with the joys and challenges of raising a Targaryen. I affectionately ruffled his hair, his gaze still fixed on Vhagar, even though the dragon paid little heed to his attempts at commanding her.
Amidst the wind and the dragon's roars, another joined the symphony—a roar distinct from Vhagar's. I turned my gaze to see Helaena astride Dreamfyre, my niece Jaehaera clinging to her mother. The sky was painted with the graceful dance of dragons, a sight that never failed to captivate me.
As we circled the city once more, I couldn't help but smile. These were the moments I cherished the most—flying with family, sharing the skies with the magnificent creatures that were both our allies and companions.
Our dragons descended, and Vhagar landed near the dragonpit. I unclasped the special harness made for Jaehaerys, and as the dragonkeepers guided her inside, I bid farewell to my formidable companion.
The city of King's Landing sprawled beneath the beating wings of dragons, a vast tapestry of stone and life that stretched out in all directions. As we made our way towards the waiting carriage, flanked by the imposing figures of Ser Arryk and Ser Rickard, a retinue of men from the City Watch stood at attention, saluting in unison. Jaehaerys, my spirited nephew, voiced his desire to ride with me.
"Jae, you had the privilege of riding with your Uncle Aemond on Vhagar. Now, it's your sister's turn," Helaena explained, her voice a soothing melody that temporarily quelled Jaehaerys' grumbling. He reluctantly boarded the carriage, and I lifted my niece onto the destrier, a gentle smile playing on my lips.
"See you at the Red Keep, sister," I said to Helaena as she settled into the carriage. The wheels creaked into motion, and we began our journey back to the heart of the city.
The City Watch, my loyal and honorable companions, rode alongside me. I had meticulously selected these men, purging the ranks of any remnants of corruption that had festered under Daemon's rule. The streets teemed with people, their faces illuminated by the sense of safety that had returned to King's Landing since I assumed the role of Lord Commander of the City Watch.
The transformation had been profound. I initiated a thorough overhaul, personally handpicking every member of the City Watch. Those associated with Daemon's watch were summarily dismissed, and those who resisted found their end at the edge of my blade. Corruption was rooted out mercilessly—any man caught accepting bribes faced the severest consequences, having his hand severed before being sent to the Night's Watch.
Illegal activities, such as the fighting pits that had thrived under the previous commander lax governance, were swiftly eradicated. My methods were unyielding, but they yielded results. The City Watch, now numbering two thousand five hundred strong, comprised men from regions deemed worthy by my grandfather—places like the Reach, the Westerlands, and the Crownlands.
The people of Kingslanding had ceased to refer to me as the "Green Terror," a moniker that had once struck fear into the hearts of its denizens. Instead, they hailed me as the protector of the city, a beacon of stability in the tumultuous sea of darkness that threatened to cover the city.
Riding through the city streets, I observed the populace's newfound happiness. People waved and smiled, their confidence in the City Watch evident. The once-dark alleys were now well-lit, the patrols of the Watch ensuring the safety of every corner. The marketplace bustled with activity, merchants conducting their trade without fear of extortion or violence.
Word had spread of my uncompromising stance against crime, and the citizens had responded with unwavering support. The air was charged with a palpable sense of security that had been absent for far too long.
The imposing gates of the Red Keep swung open as I dismounted my destrier, cradling Jaehaera in my arms. The carriage bearing Helaena and Jaehaerys rolled in shortly after, the wheels creaking to a halt on the cobblestone courtyard.
"Brother, it seems you have finally returned with my children," Aegon greeted, though his smile failed to reach his eyes. There was a weariness in his gaze.
I observed Aegon closely, noting the subtle changes that had taken hold of him in recent times. His visits to the brothels and increased indulgence in drink were noted by the other members of the court as well.
Helaena, too, bore the weight of her own concerns. Her smile waned as Aegon approached, and she disembarked from the carriage, holding Jaehaerys by the hand. A momentary discomfort flickered in her eyes as Aegon, with forced cheerfulness, kissed her on the cheek.
As Aegon turned to take Jaehaera from me, I felt the small weight of her body resist, clinging to me with an unexpected intensity. She hugged me tightly, and I could sense her reluctance to leave my arms.
"It seems she prefers you, younger brother," Aegon remarked, his tone carrying a hint of venom. The strained relationship between Aegon and me had become more pronounced, a reflection of the complexities that often plagued House Targaryen.
"Prince Aemond" Ser Criston called out, interrupting the familial tension. "It is time for the small council meeting."
I pressed a gentle kiss to Jaehaera's forehead before reluctantly handing her over to Helaena. The bond between aunt and niece was evident in the shared reluctance to part.
The Red Keep's corridors echoed with the sound of our footsteps as we made our way to the small council chamber.
The small council chamber, adorned with sigils of the great houses, welcomed us into its confines. A large, ornate table dominated the room, surrounded by high-backed chairs that awaited the councilors. As Lord Commander of the City Watch, my place at the table marked a departure from tradition.
I took my place among the members of council, my eyes scanning the familiar faces seated around the ornate table. Mother sat next to Grandfather, the Hand of the King, and other councilors were in attendance, but a notable absence marked the empty seat of Ser Tyland Lannister, the master of ships.
Grandfather Otto Hightower, a figure of authority and wisdom, began the meeting by addressing the conspicuous absence. "The king will not be joining us today, along with Ser Tyland Lannister, who has gone to Casterly Rock," he announced, his voice carrying a weight that hinted at the importance of matters at hand.
Acknowledging the commendable efforts in the city, Grandfather spoke of the improvements under my command as the Lord Commander of the Goldcloaks. Even Lord Jasper Wylde, the master of laws, looked pleased, a rare sight that spoke volumes about the positive changes taking place in the city. Following this, the discussion shifted to the less thrilling but vital matter of finances, and Lord Beesbury delved into the details.
As the financial matters unfolded, my attention remained focused, understanding the significance of economic stability in maintaining the peace within the realm. Despite the tedious nature of the topic, I appreciated the necessity of these discussions in safeguarding the well-being of the Seven Kingdoms.
"I have something of import to share with the small council," Grandfather's voice resonated through the council chamber, commanding the attention of all present.
"King Viserys has, at last, accepted the betrothal between Prince Daeron and Lady Cerelle Lannister, the daughter of Lord Jason Lannister."
The revelation lingered in the air, a diplomatic move that spoke of alliances and political intricacies. It seemed that my father had yielded to the pressure, relenting to the match after persistent insistence from Mother and me. However, this acknowledgment of familial duty had not come without inquiries into my own plans regarding marriage.
In response, I brushed aside the topic, claiming preoccupation with my duties as the Lord Commander of the Goldcloaks. It was a convenient deflection, a shield against further scrutiny into the matters of my personal life.
"The betrothal will be announced publicly by Lord Jason Lannister during the upcoming tourney at Casterly Rock, organized in celebration of the birth of his son and heir," Grandfather declared, his words carrying the weight of significant alliances and strategic arrangements.
"Prince Aemond will attend the tourney as a representative of the royal family, alongside Prince Daeron," Grandfather continued, and a ripple of alarm coursed through me. The unexpected announcement caught me off guard, and the realization that I would be compelled to leave my duties for a period of time heightened my apprehension.
A glance from Grandfather signaled that we would discuss this matter later, understanding the delicate balance between my responsibilities as a member of the royal family and the Lord Commander of the Goldcloaks.
"Now, onto the main matter concerning the safety of the Seven Kingdoms – Ser Ulf, known as the White Knight, whose tale we have all heard by now," Grandfather shifted the focus of the meeting, his tone gravely acknowledging the significance of the topic.
"What news do you have of him, Lord Larys?" Grandfather inquired of the master of whisperers, his eyes piercing through the veils of secrecy that shrouded the elusive figure of Ser Ulf.
"Lord Hand, he was last seen in Harrenhal, as my granduncle Ser Simon reported, and he has since disappeared," Lord Larys responded, his words echoing with a sense of mystery that surrounded Ser Ulf's movements.
"The High Septon is concerned about the safety of the people due to news of Ser Ulf committing blood magic to resurrect the weirwood tree," Grandfather stated, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.
The rumors surrounding Ser Ulf's purported resurrection of the dead weirwood tree had ignited like wildfire. Once hailed as a hero, his name was now dragged through the mud, and I couldn't help but perceive the orchestrated nature of the defamation. It was evident that the ones fanning the flames of condemnation were none other than my grandfather and House Hightower.
The septons, once praising Ser Ulf, now spoke of him as a stain on knighthood, deeming him unworthy of the accolades he had received. The rumors had gone to extreme lengths, suggesting that Ser Ulf had sacrificed the life of an innocent babe to achieve the resurrection of the weirwood tree.
As I listened to the damning accounts, a growing sense of unease settled within me. It was clear that Ser Ulf's image was being intentionally maligned, and the subtle orchestration of these rumors for political purposes became increasingly apparent.
The tales of blood magic and alleged atrocities committed by Ser Ulf were strategically propagated to tarnish his reputation, transforming a once-respected figure into a symbol of condemnation. The motivations behind this character assassination seemed rooted in political machinations, a deliberate effort to destabilize the prevailing order.
Despite the rumors, I couldn't shake the feeling that Ser Ulf's actions were being misconstrued. The deliberate manipulation of public opinion, orchestrated by my own grandfather and House Hightower, added a layer of complexity to the unfolding drama.
"I will keep the council informed about the White Knight's whereabouts, Lord Hand," Lord Larys reassured.
After a prolonged discussion in the small council meeting, Grandfather Otto Hightower concluded the session. As the councilors dispersed, he summoned Mother and me to his chamber in the Tower of the Hand. Upon entering, I noticed Helaena and Aegon present as well.
"Why do I have to go to Casterly Rock, Grandfather? I have a duty towards the protection of this city as the commander of the Goldcloaks. Send Aegon in my stead," I suggested, expressing my concerns.
"It is not a wise decision to send your brother," Grandfather remarked with a frown, eyeing Aegon who was noticeably engrossed in his drink.
"You are the perfect candidate to showcase our strength to the lords, to inspire confidence in them," Grandfather insisted, emphasizing the importance of my role in the upcoming events.
Realizing the weight of his argument, I reluctantly acquiesced, acknowledging the political significance of my presence at the tourney.
"Now onto other matters," Mother interjected, shifting the focus to a more personal arena.
"Aegon, Helaena, we believe that it is time for the both of you to have another child. It has already been three years since the twins' birth," Mother suggested, her words hanging in the air. As I looked at Helaena, I noticed her face turning pale, and Aegon's reaction was marked by a visible grimace.
"You cannot force her, Mother," I intervened, attempting to defend my sister's autonomy.
"Stay out of it, Aemond," Aegon suddenly spoke, his voice laced with a hint of aggression.
"Just because you've brought law and order to this city and gained the people's praise doesn't grant you the authority to act as you please," he remarked, his words carrying a weight of resentment.
"Everyone still remembers the kind of monster you revealed yourself to be when you mutilated Rhaenas' eye. So, heed my warning: stay away from my children, you fucking disgrace," Aegon spat out, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction.
"And what if I don't?" I retorted, rising from my seat, causing him to involuntarily take a step back.
"You're nothing more than a fool and a manwhore, a disgrace to the Targaryen name," I continued, a smirk playing on my lips. His face flushed with anger, and he swung a punch at me, but I stood my ground. I retaliated with a punch of my own, watching as he crumpled to the ground.
I had not only matched his height but also surpassed him in physical strength.
"Aemond!" scolded Mother as she rushed to Aegon's side, attempting to coax him back to his feet.
"Enough, Aemond. Begin your preparations," commanded Grandfather, and I left the scene, leaving the aftermath of our confrontation behind.
I made my way to the training yard, the weight of frustration heavy on my shoulders. The clashing of swords and the grunts of men in combat served as a fitting backdrop to my turbulent emotions. I couldn't contain the storm within, so I unleashed it upon my men, pushing them harder than usual. Only when the sun had dipped below the horizon did I begrudgingly retreat to my quarters.
Upon entering my room, I found Helaena amidst the organized chaos of servants packing my belongings. The sight of impending departure struck a nerve, and I barked at the servants to cease their activities.
"Stop it!" I shouted, the alarm evident in the servants' eyes as they quickly withdrew under my command. Helaena, ever composed, gestured for them to leave, allowing us a moment of privacy.
"I'm not leaving you, Helaena. There's no need to worry," I reassured, attempting to offer some comfort.
"Aem, I want you to go," she said softly, her gaze meeting mine.
"What? Leave you in the hands of that idiot?" I retorted, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
"Aem, just as you have a duty to the City Watch, so do I," she explained calmly.
"Do you know what Ulf told me when I asked him to run away?" Helaena's voice wavered as she began, her eyes reflecting the weight of memories. "He said he had a duty to the realm."
Her words hung heavy in the air, echoing the noble sentiment Ulf had upheld, a duty that transcended personal desires.
"Look at what he achieved, and after all he sacrificed, they sully his name," she continued, bitterness tainting her tone. The injustice done to Ulf, a man who had given his all, resonated in her words.
"I wonder if he still thinks of what could have been," she mused, a wistful sadness creeping into her voice. The haunting specter of unfulfilled dreams lingered in the air, a reminder of the sacrifices made for duty.
"But the past is the past," she said with a sigh, accepting the immutable truth. "The fact is, Aem, we have to face our challenges."
Her gaze turned towards the uncertain future, and she spoke of the twins, their innocent happiness casting a bittersweet glow on her face. "And the twins will be happy with a younger sibling, won't they, Aem?" A single tear escaped her eye, a silent testament to the turmoil within.
I pulled her into a gentle embrace, feeling the weight of her sorrow. In that moment, words seemed inadequate, so I let the warmth of the embrace convey what I couldn't express verbally.
"I am sorry, Aem," she whispered as tears fell, her vulnerability laid bare. The room echoed with the rawness of our emotions, a shared acknowledgment of the challenges we faced and the sacrifices that duty demanded.
