Aemon Targaryen (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
King's Landing - Godswood
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.
He had been the heir in his previous life, but he had experienced so much loss, shock, and betrayal that he couldn't think rationally back then. Now he had the time and 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.
Even if there were things that shocked, like his sister's feelings for him, yet here he was, and perhaps over time, he could come to love like that, as he did Laena.
Laena, the name brought a smile to his face. He loved her, and he knew that when she was in his arms, he felt a peace he knew, since he was beyond the Wall with Yirgitte, even if his time with Daenerys gave him a small form of peace. He sighed and started playing his harp and sang.
In halls of stone and courts of flame,
where crowns are forged in blood and name,
I find no rest beneath the stars,
until a woman lies in my arms.
The world may roar, the dragons cry,
and ravens darken every sky,
yet all my grief and all my scars
grow quiet with a woman in my arms.
Her breath is warm, her heartbeat near,
She drives away the cold and fear.
No throne, no sword, no songs of war
bring peace like a woman in my arms.
So let the gods decide my fate,
let kingsmen whisper, scheme, and wait.
My soul has crossed too many storms,
But I am home with a woman in my arms.
The world may roar, the dragons cry,
and ravens darken every sky,
Yet all my grief and all my scars
grow quiet with a woman in my arms.
Someone clapped, and he put down the harp, opening his eyes. He also heard someone sniffle as if someone was crying. "My Prince. You sing wonderfully, just as good as at your wedding." 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. Yet when did you learn to play? It was quite the shock when you, I didn't know you played?" she asked, her voice croaky.
"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 laughed. "Although the mating song of the dragon is also very joyous," he added, remembering a scene at Seadragon Point with a smile.
"I didn't know dragons sang. I don't have much affinity for them," she said nervously. Dragons always made her nervous. Given her family history, it was understandable, but now she was visiting his brother. He has seen it through the eyes of his rats, as had Larys. He let it be for now, as Alicent was a known factor, and he could control her. He had more power and control of the situation. If he didn't know, neither did he have history to help him guide himself somewhat. However, he wondered if it was her choice or her father's ambition.
"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, smiling at her. Alicent even seemed to blush.
"If you say so, my Prince. Do you have some time to join me at the Sept? I was praying and looking for Rhaenyra, but I haven't found her yet, so I was wondering if you would want to join me instead. My Prince," she asked, surprising him.
"Of course, I will come. Will you then join me at the dragon pit after? 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, and his third would be Baelon the Brave. Baelon became the father with whom he identified the most. Perhaps because he had been his true father to him, unlike the other two, he didn't know for sure. He thought as he lay down the harp. Sadly, his wife was not, and he suspected she was likely with Rhaenyra and Visenya.
"I have to ready my horse, I would rather ride a horse than a carriage," He stated, as he arrived. She nodded and walked toward the stables, and saddled his horse with the help of a groom.
Soon enough, he walked out, Raven walking up beside him. "Would you like to join me? Raven is large enough for two." 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?" He questioned, making sure she was okay.
"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." He said as they rode through the streets of Kingslanding, with Ser Harrold and Ser Jeffery following them
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 regarding 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 gods' will; he only had some idea. He had been given a chance to save the dragons from destruction and the world from the darkness. Aemon mused as he looked at the ornate building.
"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, they are more my kind of gods, without the pomp and circumstance," he said with a smile.
"Ah, yes, of course. True, I find them peaceful when I study there. 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 smiled at him.
"Whatever you wish, they will listen. You can speak it aloud or in silence. I do it mostly for my 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 Laena and Rhaenyra, hoping he would be a good husband to them, Visenya too, so she could find what she wanted, yet lastly to be a good 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 flew together," Balerion rumble and roared out when the dragon walked out of the cave. "We are, but hopefully not together totally," he said mentally. "The Hightower, are you sure, Aemon?" Balerion questioned. "Yes, we must have her on our side to prevent the Dance. Or at least lessen the outcome of one." He said to his friend. "Mmm, taken more mates, even with Rhaenyra and Visenya." His old friend said, rumbled, as he laid his hand to his snout.
He had some plans to prevent the Targaryen civil war. Either project power as Rhaenyra's protector and hold the family together. Still, that went out the window when he was named heir. The whole war might have been avoided if he had made Alicent trust him, and he would never have harmed her children. If the plan with his sister and mother hadn't worked, the thought would still have made his stomach turn.
"Yes, quite true, but Alicent is last," He replied, as he had no intention of taking another lover besides her, Alicent. "Mmm, that's what they all say," Balerion added, giving out a trill.
Ignoring his urge to snort, he looked toward Alicent. "Well, Alicent, I'm about to do something peaceful. So, if you will," he said, reaching out to her after stepping 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, looking into Alicent's eyes. They were brown and had a reddish tint to their 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 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 held her against his waist. "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 waist.
"Oh, by the Seven," Alicent said, unsteady. But there was wonder in her voice. "I have never seen such a thing." She said, looking down at the city. "It is peaceful, isn't it?" These were moments where he found peace. "That's true, you were right, and now I see why Nyra wanted me to come with her. Thank you for convincing me." She spoke softly, with a tone of gratitude.
After some time, they landed, and he thanked Balerion, who walked back into the dragonpit. With some assistants of the dragonkeepers, who still found his bond with Balerion odd. "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, flushed. 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 the others would also like to take you up," Aemon said with a smile, and it was a true one, as he did have fun with Alicent. But he wasn't prepared for what came next. As he spoke, Alicent bent forward and kissed him. Surprised by the kiss, he hadn't expected it from a dutiful girl like her; then again, she had kissed the others as well. He could have continued it, but he couldn't do it. He first needed to speak with Laena before he acted.
So he pulled away and spoke. "I'm sorry, Alicent, but I can't do it to Laena. You are a wonderful woman who can have any man you want." He said as he hugged her. "I'm sorry, my Prince. I 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 trembling a little.
"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 he kissed her on the head. Alicent was three years his senior, but he was still taller than her. "Thank you, my Prince, for the understanding. It won't happen again." She said they returned to Raven and rode back toward the Red Keep.
Laena Velaryon (107 A.C. Ninth Moon)
Later that day Aemon's chambers.
Laena woke in the dark with Aemon's arm around her waist.
For a moment, she only listened.
The Red Keep was never truly silent. Even at night, there were sounds. The distant tread of guards in the hall. The wind moving beyond the shutters. Somewhere below, a door closed, soft but heavy. Farther still, the city murmured in its sleep, as if King's Landing itself dreamed uneasily.
Yet in the bed, there was warmth.
Aemon lay behind her, his body pressed close to hers, his breath steady against her hair. She could feel the beat of his heart where his chest touched her back. It was a strange thing to be someone's wife. Stranger still to have wanted it, feared it, and now finds herself wrapped in it so completely.
Only two moons had passed since their wedding, and still she sometimes woke expecting to be in her own chambers, with Laenor sleeping in the adjoining room and her father's guards outside the door.
Instead, she woke beside him.
Her husband.
Aemon Targaryen. Prince of Seadragon Point. Rider of Balerion. The man who had become heir to the Iron Throne.
The thought made her stomach twist a little. Not from regret. Never that. But from the weight of it. She had married a prince. Now she had married the future King.
Aemon stirred behind her.
"You are awake," he murmured.
Laena smiled faintly into the dark. "So are you."
"I was not sleeping deeply."
"Neither was I."
His hand shifted against her belly, not possessively, but gently. The gesture still made her heart flutter. There was a chance there was a child in there, soon enough she would go to measter as her moonblood was late.
"So, do you think you are with child yet?" he asked.
"Perhaps."
She turned within his arms until she faced him. The room was dim, but the moonlight coming through the shutters touched enough of his face for her to see his eyes. Grey, with those strange flecks of purple she loved. In daylight, they could look hard. In moments like this, they looked haunted.
"My moonblood is late," she said.
"Hmm, I would not mind a little babe for our own. Alysanne is already so precious."
She huffed a quiet laugh and brushed her fingers over his chest. "It would be, and boy, that looks like perhaps with either of our mother's hair, and with your eyes."
Aemon gave a faint smile, but it faded too quickly.
Laena noticed.
She had noticed it more often since the wedding. Not unhappiness. Not with her. Never with her. If anything, he had been gentler with her than she expected, more careful, as if he feared that joy might break if touched too roughly.
But sometimes, when he thought she did not see, that old grief returned to him.
It was older than he was.
She had thought that more than once.
"You are doing it again," she whispered.
"Doing what?"
"Looking like you are somewhere else."
Aemon was silent.
Laena's hand stilled against him. "Aemon?"
He took a breath and looked toward the canopy above them. The shadows moved across the carved wood like dark water.
"There is something I should tell you."
The words were quiet, but they changed the air.
Laena pushed herself up slightly, holding the blanket to her chest. "Now?"
"If I wait for the right time, I fear I will never speak of it."
That frightened her more than any shout would have."What is it?"
Aemon sat up beside her. For a moment, he looked like a boy caught between confession and punishment. Then he looked like a man about to walk into battle.
"Laena," he said softly, "I need you to listen to me. And I need you to know that I am not mad."
Her brows drew together. "That is not a comforting beginning."
"I know."
She reached for his hand. "Then begin again."
His fingers closed around hers.
He did not speak at once. He looked down at their joined hands, thumb passing over her knuckles. Laena let him have the silence. Whatever this was, he had carried it long enough that forcing him would only make him draw inward.
At last, he said, "For most of my life, I was not Aemon Targaryen."
Laena stared at him.
The words made no sense. Not in the way he spoke them. Not as jest, not as metaphor.
"You were born Aemon Targaryen," she said carefully. "Son of Prince Baelon and Princess Lyanna."
"In this life, yes."
A chill crept over her skin. "This life?"
He closed his eyes. "I lived before. Another life. Another time. I remember it as clearly as I remember this room."
Laena pulled the blanket closer around herself. "A dream?"
"No."
"A vision?" She asked.
"No."
"Then what?"
"A life," Aemon said, and when he opened his eyes, they held no lies in them. "I lived it. I grew. I loved. I fought. I died."
Laena's breath caught.
Aemon looked away, as though ashamed of the pain in his own voice. "My name was Jon Snow."
The name meant nothing to her. It was plain, Northern, almost small beside the name he bore now. Yet he spoke it as if it were carved into his bones.
"I was raised as the bastard son of Eddard Stark of Winterfell," he continued. "I believed that for most of my life. I was a boy with no true place. Loved by some, resented by others, always reminded of what I was."
"A bastard," Laena whispered.
He nodded.
Her heart ached at once. She could not imagine it. Aemon, who carried himself like a prince even when covered in soot from the forge. Aemon, who had dragons and wolves and men who would die for him. Aemon, who had been born with so much weight upon his shoulders.
To think of him as a lonely bastard boy made something inside her hurt. Yet thinking on now, Aemon had never carried himself as an arrogant princeling or lord. Always dutiful, humble, proud when he knew he had mastered things, but never lorded his station over people.
"For most of my life, I wanted to wash the stain of that bastardy of me." he said. "I wanted a place where my birth did not matter. So I went to the Wall."
"The Wall?" Laena asked.
"The Wall in that time was not what it is now, although even now it's in decline, by my time it was broken, with barely a thousand men left to guard the Wall, manange and patrol it. The Night's Watch had become a place for unwanted sons, thieves, rapers, murderers, and men with nowhere else to go. There were still good men among them. Brave men. But it was a shadow."
Laena shifted closer. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because the Wall was built for a reason. A true reason. Not for wildlings."
She felt the cold then, not from the room, but from his voice.
"The Others," he said. "The White Walkers. The dead things walking in the cold winters and nights from old tales, from our bedtime stories. They were real."
Laena swallowed.
Old tales. Nurse's tales. Stories told in winter to frighten children into bed.
Aemon's face told her they were not tales.
"I saw them," he said. "I fought them. Dead men walking. Dead children. Dead horses. Giants with blue eyes. Every corpse became another soldier. Every battle fed them. And the world was too busy clawing at itself apart to truly prepare for what was coming."
Laena's fingers tightened around his.
"There were no dragons," he whispered. "Not until my aunt brought them back. They were young and grew quickly, like Jaefyre, as they were hatched the same way, by blood magic."
"Why were there no dragons? And do you mean your aunt?" she asked.
"Almost all the dragons died in a war called the Dance of the Dragons," Aemon said with a sigh. "As for my aunt, I did not meet her until she arrived on Dragonstone. I was still Jon Snow then, but I was King in the North by that time."
He became a king even after being a bastard, and the North was independent.
"You were King, and the North was independent?"
"I was, and I came to her for help. In the end, after trials and words, we came to an understanding and more."
He replied, and she knew then that Aemon had lied to her about the whores. He was experienced when they lay together, even when they had been together as man and wife.
It hurt a little, unless she declared him mad. Yet the man sitting beside her on the bed wasn't mad. He had lived a life, and when that one ended, he came here.
"You loved her, didn't you? And the story of the whores was a lie, wasn't it?"
"I loved her once, but that was a long time ago, and I didn't love her the way I love you. As for the story of the whores, that's true. That was a lie," he said as he kissed her, and she felt the love in it.
"I believe you, even if I do feel some hurt because of it. Something in my mind says these are fanciful tales. Yet looking in your eyes, I know you tell the truth."
"I do. And if you do not believe me, you can ask Arya and my mother," he added with a small smile.
Her eyes widened. "They are also from the past?"
"They are, although, as I told you, in that life I lived as Jon Snow, and my mother died in childbirth. Arya lived with me for most of my life," he replied with a small smile.
There were so many questions, but for now, she wanted to know the biggest one.
"Yet if you lived a life, how did you come here, into this life? With me, with all of us?"
Aemon smiled, the smile that was part of the reason she had fallen in love with him.
"The gods."
That made her eyes widen again. Then again, what other power could send someone back in time?
"The gods?"
"Yes, the true gods. Old gods and Valyrian gods. Fire and ice. Life and death. I do not know how to explain all of it, not tonight. Only that they gave me one chance. Not to return to where I had been, but to come here. To be born again and prevent the dragons from dying out, a war called the Dance of the Dragons."
"The Dance of the Dragons?" she asked.
"Yes, and part of my plans to prevent it, or at least lessen the chaos that comes from it, have already been put in place."
Laena suspected as much. Aemon's behavior, his actions over the years, and his obsession with family, duty, the far North, and dragons began to make sense.
"The dragons died, as you said, but why?" she asked.
"Because Viserys named Rhaenyra his heir, remarried after Aemma died in childbed, and had three sons."
"Aemma dies?" Laena asked.
He nodded sadly. "She did. Baelon as well, although in that life, there was no Alysanne. Viserys married Alicent in that timeline, and he will likely try to do so now again, though I mean to speak with him soon and suggest my mother or my sister instead."
"He marries Alicent?" Laena asked, shocked. The other part she already knew, but hearing Alicent's name made it feel stranger. She didn't see why that was a good match. Alicent was the daughter of the second son, which would bring a large dowry, but not true military power. Even Otto could call Old Town for support. She saw only advancements for Otto and House Hightower.
"Yes," Aemon said. "And it was her son, Aegon, who fought a succession war against Rhaenyra. However, it was not truly Aegon who pushed for it at first. It was mostly the Hightowers and Alicent's supporters."
Laena swallowed.
"So dragons fought dragons," Aemon continued, his voice heavy. "By the end, only Aegon III, Rhaenyra, Daemon's son, Jaehaera, Aegon II's daughter, and your two daughters remained of the main lines. As for the dragons, only four survived the war. One was claimed by your daughter Rhaena. The other three were lost to history after the Dance."
"My daughters?" she asked with a smile, and her free hand went to her belly, hoping Aemon's seed had taken root and that a child of theirs was growing inside her.
"Yes. You had two daughters. Both lived after the Dance, and had children and husbands of their own."
"Who was the father?" she couldn't help but ask.
Aemon looked a bit uncomfortable. "Daemon."
"Daemon?"
Aemon nodded. "Yes, he married you after Rhea Royce died in a hunting accident."
Oh. Well, to be honest, marrying Daemon was something she could see happening had she not known Aemon. Daemon was the second son, brother to the King, and a dragonrider.
"I marry Daemon, but he marries Rhaenyra, you say." Did Daemon take a second wife as well?
He looked down sadly. "I wish this never happeneds to you now, but Laena, in that timeline, you died in childbirth, birthing yours and Daemon's son, Aegon. Sadly, the child didn't live either."
That made her stomach drop.
"Well, that isn't comforting, but I do know. I want children with you, and so far, you have shown that you can save women with childbearing issues. Just look at Aemma," she said as she took both his hands and kissed them.
"I know, and I want it too. That doesn't mean I do not feel fear," he noted as he kissed hers as well.
"I know. And I tell you, I know you are going to war, with how the Stepstones are developing. I fear for you, too," she said with a sad smile.
The look in his eyes confirmed it. There would be a war in the Stepstones, although likely with different players.
"I know, and there will be war," he said with a sigh.
She saw it then. There was age to his voice, something she had recognized before, something he had always had. Aemon had seen much of the world. He had lived, killed, and likely suffered more than she could imagine.
"I'm just curious. How old were you when you died?" she asked, as she suspected he had failed to win against the Others. "As told me you died."
"I was twenty and two, so now I'm technically thirty-seven. Although it wasn't the first time I did," he replied.
"What? You died twice? How is that possible?" she asked, confused.
"By being stabbed to death by men of the Watch, for letting the wildlings past the Wall, because I didn't want them to be turned into soldiers for the Others. That is what they do, Laena. Whatever the Others kill, they bring back from the dead, and they follow their commands. Later, I was brought back to life by a follower of Rhollr."
"I'm sorry. I hope they all died soon after," she said with fury.
"They did," he replied.
"Yet how did you die a second time?"
Aemon sighed deeply, and there was deep grief in his eyes.
"I died in a cell alone, killed by the Night King, the Great Other's champion, wearing the face of my little brother."
Laena gasped. "Oh, Aemon, I'm sorry," she said as she took his face and kissed his forehead. "Yet why were you in a cell?"
"I committed kinslaying and killed my aunt." He stated, and his voice was one of fury and grief.
"What do you mean, Aemon? I thought you loved your aunt?" Laena asked.
"I did, but we broke apart after she found out about my true identity. I was actually happy, not being a bastard, but all she cared about was the fact that I was the rightful head of House Targaryen and heir to the Iron Throne, if you go by the line of succession, as the other claimants were dead by that point. Soon after, we thought we had won against the Others after my sister slew the Night King, but we hadn't. He only took my brother's body. He waited to kill me, and after I died, there was no dragonblood left, or at least not in the way of my aunt and me. As for why I killed her, I did so after she burned King's Landing down to its foundation stones. A million people lived in the city at that time. She burned them, and she started it when her own men were still in the city. I barely escaped the flames."
He added, the rage and pain of that moment returning, "What was worse, the city had surrendered, and we had broken the army defending it. Yet she massacred them all, and to my shame, my own men joined in the rampage. The War of the Five Kings had driven a hatred into them, into the North, for those of Lannister stock, and for those of the South in general."
He breathed harder, growing sweatier and more shaken than before.
She held his hand. "Just breathe, Aemon, and tell me the rest."
He did, then resumed his horrible tale.
"So, after that, I got her alone in the throne room, with only the Iron Throne still standing. She stood in front of the Throne, touching the damn thing. What was worse, she looked pleased. Rage and hate had consumed the kind, willful, and passionate woman I had come to love. I remember exactly how that conversation went."
Flashback
(Aemon Pov)
After the burning of King's Landing, 304 A.C.
Throne Room
Ash and snow covered the damn throne room, and centered in it was the monster who had caused all this misery. The death, the burning flesh, he could still smell it in the air. In front of him stood the woman he had once loved, but that spell had broken with her reaction to his parentage. He still had hope for a change in her, but the deaths of Rhaegal, Missandei, and Jorah had pulled her further away, and a few hours earlier, the damn world had come crashing down further than it already had.
"A wondrous thing, is it not? What our ancestors built. I saw it before, in a vision in the House of the Undying. Seeing it for real is almost too much to comprehend. I've waited years for this. The first time I heard of it was from my brother, who told me it was built with a thousand swords from Aegon's enemies. His eyes would shine brightly, wanting to see it again, yet he never would. But we did it, the last of our house, standing where we should have been standing since we were born," Daenerys said, her voice full of awe and not racked with grief as he had expected, no, hoped for.
"Do you know what you have done? Or did you come in here to flee from it?" he questioned harshly.
"I do not understand," she replied, eyes full of confusion.
"Do not understand? I walked here through the ruins of the damn city you burned. The damned people had surrendered, and you burnt them anyway, women and children alike," he shouted, enraged and confused.
"Cersei used them against me. They chose her, and now they have paid for that choice. The world cannot hide behind mercy. To survive, the world must know what will happen if you betray me," she answered.
He closed his eyes and thought in despair. Betray you? The damn citizens didn't even know you. They didn't even have a choice. They didn't know any better.
"Oh, they betrayed you, is that it? The man who raised me was beheaded here, and by the accounts of my sisters, they cried out for his execution, enjoying the damn spectacle. Yet they were told he was planning to usurp the Throne, that he was a traitor. Later, they rioted against that cunt Joffrey, and afterward, they were all told you would come and burn them all. Well, it seems they were right to fear you, and now you tell me there is no need for mercy?" he spat with disgust.
He growled at her. "Tell me, Dany, what does this world look like for you? Bow or burn?"
"That is our way. Fire and Blood. Aegon forged the realm with fire and blood, so now I will do the same. Forge the entire world into something good, something better. They can either bow and live in the new world, the better one, or die in the old. I told Tyrion much the same when I burnt the Tarlys."
A shiver ran down his spine. What happened to you? Did it even matter? She forced this choice on me. If only I had realized sooner.
"A better world," he whispered, his voice hoarse with grief. "At what cost, Dany? At what cost? The children, the innocent... What about them?"
"They were casualties of war," Daenerys replied coldly. "The price of freedom."
He shook his head, unable to comprehend the woman standing before him. "This isn't freedom, Dany. This is fear. This is tyranny."
Daenerys's eyes flared with anger, and she took a step toward him, her voice rising. "I am not a tyrant! I am their queen! I will break the wheel that has kept this world in chains for millennia!"
"By becoming everything you swore to destroy? Your people may not have physical chains any longer, but they will still live in chains, in fear of you," he cried incredulously, his voice laced with sorrow.
"You'll break the wheel by ruling through fear and fire? I told the Dany on that beach that if you burn castles and cities, you're just more of the same."
Daenerys looked at him, her expression softening again, her voice almost pleading. "I know you don't understand now, Aemon. You don't see the future I see. One land, one people, no more wars. But one day, you will. You're part of this, of our family. Together, we can build a new world, a better world. Please… join me."
She was so close to him.
Curse the gods for making him do this. Why did it have to be him? Let me die after this. My heart is nothing but dust anyway.
He took hold of her. "Please, for me, reconsider. I love you, Dany. You are my family," he said as his voice croaked.
"I…" she said as he held her cheek and looked into her purple eyes.
"Please," he pleaded again.
"I can't, not anymore," she said, yet there was a small crack in her voice.
"I'm sorry," he said as he kissed her deeply.
She wanted it, meeting his embrace eagerly.
And then it stopped, as he plunged his dagger into her chest and through her heart.
Daenerys's eyes widened in shock, the smile fading from her lips as she gasped for breath, her hand grasping at his as if trying to pull him closer.
"I'm sorry," he said as the tears rolled down his face.
"Aemon, I'm sorry," she gasped as she collapsed into his arms, her strength fading as her life slipped away. Her eyes, once filled with fire and passion, dimmed as the light left them. Her body went limp, and he cradled her against his chest, his heart breaking as he felt the last breath leave her.
For a long moment, he knelt there, holding her lifeless body, surrounded by the ruins of the world she had tried to build through destruction.
The throne room was silent except for the distant crackle of flames and the soft whisper of falling ash and snow. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of what he had done, the weight of his choice crushing him.
The foundations of the Red Keep shook with a dragon's roar.
End Flashback
"Oh, Aemon, I can't imagine what it felt like to be forced to do that," Laena said, embracing him.
He finally broke, sobbing.
"I didn't want to do it," he explained, almost frantic in his need for her to understand. "She was too far gone," he cried, his face buried in Laena's shoulder.
"I know, Aemon," she soothed.
"By all the gods, I thought I had forgiven myself for what I did. Balerion even helped me break through that grief and heartbreak. My old friend helped quite well with it. He might be the oldest being around," he said after they broke apart.
"Balerion?" she asked, confused.
"Yes, he has been my support since I was born. I can speak with him through our bond. Were you not confused about how I could make Valyrian steel and the other arts lost since the Doom?" he asked her.
Her eyes seemed to pop out of her head.
"What? How is that possible?" Laena inquired.
"I'm not sure myself. I suppose it has to do with the fact that Balerion's inner flame, which keeps dragons living, was infused with mine. It allowed him to heal from his wounds, and that is why Balerion was able to fly past the Wall and can now breathe fire and ice because I am fire and ice. You, when Viserys named me heir, he spoke of the same song, and did so too, Jaehaerys, during the Great Council. He believed by then that it was about me, and from my line would come the one who would bring the darkness to an end," he said.
"What is ironic is the damn dagger, my brothers." He laughed as he looked at her, grief still in his eyes. "It is the same damn dagger that slit my throat when I was killed, and that my sister used against the Night King to shatter its body, but not destroy what was within, so it went to my brother Bran, who was marked by the Night King. Only I or someone in my bloodline can send him back where he belongs. To imprison the Great Other champion again."
"You know what it says in Valyrian runes: From my blood will come the promised Prince, who will be the song of ice and fire. The damn reason why Aegon came west and united the kingdoms. Not that it mattered in the end. We all tore each other to pieces, and perhaps by then, we deserved to fall," he added, his voice full of melancholy.
"It didn't matter. Do you truly think the gods would send you back if they thought humanity didn't deserve life? If they thought you didn't deserve it?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion as she cupped his face, her fingers trembling slightly.
"You've done the impossible, Aemon. People believe in you. We believe in you," she added.
"You restored the Black Dread's strength when everyone thought it was lost forever. You've brought back our ancestry. You went north of the Wall and started a settlement there. You saved Aemma and brought me so much love. How can you think any of that was for nothing?"
Aemon's eyes widened.
"Laena, I know what you're saying," he replied, his voice low, almost resigned. "But when I was rotting in that cell, when the Unsullied locked me up, half-starved and forgotten, hope felt like a distant dream. I wasn't sure what was to happen, only that Westeros was still in chaos. As I said before, I know what happened to the world I left," he said as he looked down.
He was thinking. She had seen that face before.
She spoke again and broke him out of his thoughts. "What now? I know you have hope. Otherwise, you wouldn't have loved me or done everything you have done."
Her face was stern, though her voice was filled with love.
"Aemon," Laena whispered, stepping closer, her hand gently resting on his cheek. "You have gone through something probably nobody has ever done before. I know you feel guilty. I see it all over you, even if you say you forgave yourself. Not all of you has. Just know, I do not blame you for it."
"I thought I had forgiven myself, but it seems I haven't let it go even now, after almost eight and ten years. If I'm honest, I still see her in my dreams occasionally. The fear in her eyes and the regret. Only a moment passed between when she said she was sorry and when she died. I knew then that I had broken through her barrier, but she was gone. No more time to talk, say goodbye, or say I forgive you. I just felt regret and an emptiness inside of me. Although that has slowly been refilled over the years I have lived this life," he said with a shaky breath.
"Aemon," she began softly, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "You've had a past that probably nobody could even imagine. You've tried and made peace with so much of it, but I know… I know some things will never truly leave you. They are part of you, and they shape you into who you are now. And that's alright. It doesn't make you weaker or less worthy of the life you've built."
"What happened shaped you, but it didn't break you. You've come through the other side stronger, even if the scars remain. You need to learn to live with all the pain, to live and love. And you've shown us that you can."
"I shall try to live with my past. It is part of me and shapes who I am today, just like you said," he said as he looked at her. "So, perhaps it is time to accept that it is part of me, even though I wish I hadn't lived through all that. That past is my past and my life, for better and worse."
He kissed her deeply.
"I love you, Aemon, and I will be with you in this life until we pass into the next," she said as tears slipped from her eyes.
"I love you, too," he said as he kissed her again.
Soon enough, they were making love, and soon after, they fell into a tired sleep.
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