Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
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The view is strangely distorted and disorienting. Visions of the past faded in and out, but as it soon became clear in the prince's dreams... he could see someone. On a bed, being held down. Confusion at first before her face quickly turned into panic.
What... What is this? I-I cannot move.
« Oh no...! NO! No! No! No! NO, NO, NO! »
Mother?! No, not again! Mother...!
It was no longer a dream. But it was a living nightmare. Being forced to relive the death of his mother, Queen Aemma Arryn, all over again, Aeonar felt helpless as the visions he was receiving forced him to do nothing but watch - no matter how hard he tried to move, his legs remained immobile; no matter how hard he tried to look away, his eyes were forced open and his head was forcibly turned to watch the gruesome image that was forever burned into his brain that day.
Mother!
« VISERYS, NO! PLEASE! NO, NO, NO!WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! »
MOTHER! Aeonar screamed. As the vision faded, the prince quickly paced his unknown surroundings. It was black, the ground beneath his feet made it feel like he was walking on water, and the dense fog dissipated just as quickly as it formed… I do not want to see this anymore! Let me out! Wake me up! Someone get me out of this nightmare!
In an act to torment the Prince of Dragonstone, more fog began to appear before parting slightly to reveal another figure. It was the cries, pleading, and anguish of another woman... but she was much younger. To his horror, the woman was his bride, Alicent Hightower.
« GAAH! Aeonar! Aeonar, help me! Please! »
Alicent!? No, no, no! Please! Not her! Anything but her!
« AAAAAAAAAHHH! »
ALICENT!
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His eyes sharply open, Aeonar awakens in a panic covered in sweat. His heartbeat was fast, his adrenaline levels rose, and he quickly examined his surroundings. It was one of the royal apartments in Maegor's Holdfast. He looks over in the bed and sees Alicent sound asleep next to him naked as the day she was born with only the bed sheets draping across her bare shoulders to keep herself covered. Her breathing was quiet, and she was sleeping soundly, her chest rising and descending. Now he remembered―it was their wedding night. Having finally understood where he was, Aeonar slowly gets out from under the sheets and sits on the side of the bed, breathing heavily, and puts his head in his hands.
"Ilārtan ziry… (Damn it…)" Every night, the same dream. Not just of what happened in the past, but… No, I refuse to believe this.
The sudden movement was enough to cause Alicent to stir and awaken. "Mmmm. Aeonar?" she yawned before rubbing her eyes. Once she was awake, she noticed Aeonar's back facing her and his subtle tremble. "Aeonar, what's wrong?" she scooched over. Alicent took Aeonar's hand, but he did not look at her. Something is not right. "What's bothering you?" she inquired. "Aeonar, please. Talk to me."
Aeonar shakily exhaled. "It was a dream," he admitted.
"Bad?"
"Like the one I used to have about my mother… just before she died."
"There's more to it than that, isn't it?" Alicent suspected. "Tell me." Do not shut me out. Let me help you.
They look at each other. A moment of concern passes between them.
"And… you were in it too."
Me? Alicent rested her chin on Aeonar's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. "What do you see?" she asked, giving him a long, worried look.
"Alicent…"
"Aeonar."
Aeonar sighed. Hesitant, but he needed to be honest with her. If not, then Alicent will eventually figure it out at some point. He took a deep breath. "In the dream, you were suffering the same fate as she did," he revealed. "No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move nor avert my eyes. It was simply too much."
"Oh, Aeonar," Alicent held him closer. "Is that what's bothering you? Sweetheart, it was just a bad dream."
"I won't let this one become real," Aeonar blurted. "I won't lose you the way I lost my mother."
"You aren't going to lose me. I promise you. I believe you can protect me against anything, just as you are." Alicent turned Aeonar's face to hers and kissed him gently. "This is real. I am not going anywhere, not even if the Gods themselves try to ruin the love we have. Take strength from that."
Aeonar laid back down on the mattress, rubbing his eyes as the sunlight began to shine into the room. As Alicent got out of bed to get dressed, he simply lay there motionless… not even being permitted to enjoy the new chapter in his life. But these dreams keep coming to him as frequently as the nerves twitching in the back of his mind. It was a familiar sensation he felt before – which to him meant there was bound to be trouble.
Perhaps the Lykirī Mēre had answers for him.
Red Keep ― Aeonar's meditation chamber…
Deep within the bowels of the Red Keep, Aeonar had a private room constructed to serve as his mediation chambers. For him, it was one of the darkest areas in the castle with only several candles offering illumination, but also where he could find solace whenever he was away from Dragonstone. But he was not alone.
"Rhēdessiarza Āeksio (Grand Master)," Aeonar sat. "Nyke māzigon gō ao jorarghutan aōha sylvie sytiotāpas. Se ūndegon emagon amāzis. (I have come before you to seek your wise counsel. The premonitions have returned.)"
Sitting across from him in deep thought was Azdez mo Dharozn, Grand Master of the Lykirī Mēre. Around one hundred three years old, he was considered the last known loremaster of ancient Valyrian history from a time before the Doom destroyed Old Valyria. Relics were scattered throughout the chamber such as ancient texts, sómnīorum (meaning "vessels of dreams"), and old paintings. His platinum robes and hood hung over his face, but Azdez's eyes were filled with white, an indication of blindness due to his advanced age.
"Úndegon, vestrā? Úndegon… (Premonitions, you say? Premonitions…)" Azdez's frail hands trembled. "Hmmm… Ivetragholīēdrurys emā issare emare, ābrītsos mēre… (Explain these dreams you've been having, young one…)"
"Issi hen ōdres, botilza, morghot… (They're of pain, suffering, death…)"
"Ȳdrassis hen aōla, iā mirtys ao gīmigon? (Do you speak of yourself, or someone you know?)"
"Mirtys. (Someone.)"
"Issi pōnta jorrāeltan naejot ao? (Are they close to you?)"
"…Kessa. (…Yes.)"
Azdez hummed. "Hmmm… Konīr emagon va moriot issare Targārien qilōni ēdrugon hen ra naejot bona māstan gō se lī qilōni kessa māzigon tolī, pār bōsa gō se Ozgūrogon.(There have always been Targaryens who dreamed of things that came before and those who will come after, since long before the Conquest.)" He counseled. "Yn sagon urnēbagon skori emare ēdrurys hen māzīlariot, riña. (But be mindful when having dreams of the future, child.)" His fingers pointed at him. "Naejot dokimare toliot imastan bona emagon daor vasīr massitas, iā emagon massitas, kostagon jemagon mēre hen rhinka hen pōja vējes. (To obsess over events that have not yet happened, or have happened already, can lead one astray from their destiny.)"
Aeonar shook his head. "Kesan daor ivestragī se ēdrurys sīdan iā drējior, RhēdessiarzaĀeksio. (I will not let these dreams become a reality, Grand Master.)" The prince still seemed visibly troubled by the nightmare he had witnessed… at least, that is what he hoped it was.
"Īles Dāenys se Édrugonrys qilōni istin ūndan se Vējes hen Uēpa Valyria skore jentan naejot se pryjata hen Valyrīha Dāezōregon lantagār lanta ampā hāregār jēdri sīrgō, lanta ampā jēdri syt ziry naejot massigon. Zirȳla ūndegon issi skoros beldan Targārio Lentrot botagon botagon se Vējes (It was Daenys the Dreamer who once foreseen the Doom of Old Valyria which led to the destruction of the Valyrian Freehold three hundred years ago, twelve years for it to happen. Her premonitions are what helped House Targaryen survive the Doom.)" Azdez spoke calmly while his body trembled again. "Kesrio syt zirȳla ribazma se kessa sia mīsagon se zūgagon hen ōdres hen ojūdan. (Because her mind and will were protected from the fear of the pain of loss.)"
"Skoros ēdruta gaoman, RhēdessiarzaĀeksio? (What must I do, Grand Master?)"
Azdez, gripping his cane, pointed the tip at Aeonar. "Bodmagho aōla naejot ivestragī jikagon… hen zūgagon hen ojūdan. Mērī pār kessa ao sagon kōttan naejot mazēdan ashkesh. (Train yourself to let go… of the fear of loss. Only then will you be able to take control.) Hmmm…" Rising to his feet, he placed both palms on his cane to steady himself. "Doru aōha ribazma… se dokimarves va ñuha elēni, ābrītsos mēre. (Empty your mind… and concentrate on my voice, young one.)"
Aeonar exhaled, closed his eyes, and sat motionless as he began meditating with the Grand Master. Dreams, nightmares, visions, prophecy... it was something Aeonar had heard most of his life as his father's heir. Under the mentorship of Azdez mo Dharozn, today's training session would include enhancing the person's mental fortitude; and being of Valyrian descent, Aeonar was hopeful this training would ease the flow of dreams and even repress them. But that would not be easy as the dreams of his mother and wife came and went – his emotional ties with them were strong. However, if this meditation session can help him, then it is a chance Aeonar must take.
From my blood come the prince that was promised, and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire…
Red Keep ― Gardens…
Viserys ended up walking through the gardens with Laena, talking despite his apparent discomfort. He was visibly uncomfortable about potentially marrying a child, especially a twelve-year-old, but the king was merely doing this to appease his heir. Viserys realized it was a calculated move on Aeonar's part. Sure, age was a concern, but it was also a politically strong move as well. Viserys came to realize his son had backed him into a corner, trapping him in a political yet strategic stranglehold.
Still, this did not make things any better.
By the Gods, Aeonar, my son, my heir... why must you make me endure this humiliation? She is old enough to be my daughter.
Laena, on the other hand, resumed her stroll by the king's side. Her long, majestic hair was done perfectly, her blue dress was personally handpicked by her mother Princess Rhaenys to lay on the charm – appropriate for a young noble lady her age, a golden medallion honoring her house around her neck, earrings of gold and cyan, and she had been rehearsing her lines as per her father's instructions. But still, being so young, Laena had questions. "What was it like flying the Black Dread?" she asked curiously. "You were Balerion's last rider."
Viserys noticed. Indeed, Balerion the Black Dread was by far the largest dragon during Aegon's Conquest and was the last living creature to ever see Old Valyria. Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel, Princess Aerea… all had ridden Balerion in their time; and Viserys, meanwhile, was the dragon's last rider before dying of natural causes. Still, even the king had his fondest memories of Balerion even if they were indeed brief. "Only for a short time before he died," he answered. "With Balerion died the last memory of Valyria of Old."
"But Vhagar still lives somewhere. A bit too large for the Dragonpit."
"Some would say too large for our world."
Viserys could not help but give a reminiscent smile at the mention of Vhagar, the Queen of All Dragons. His late father, Prince Baelon, was her last rider before he died of a ruptured appendix many years ago. Without a rider, Vhagar flew off into distant lands and remained secluded ever since. As he continued with his walk, Viserys remembered one of the best memories of his life… with his father and then-young son.
ooOoo
Flashback: 11 years ago (101 AC)…
"Be sure to fasten the harness good and tight, Aeonar, that way you don't fly out," Baelon helped adjust his grandson's strap. Having been Hand of the King for five days, he figured he would spend his time celebrating with his grandson before the grand hunt would resume in the Kingswood.
"Okie, grandpa!" A six-year-old Aeonar sat in front of his grandfather, visibly struggling with the harness. For a child, he was having a tough time before Baelon reached around the child.
"Hahaha! Here, let me."
Taking the opportune moment to show Aeonar how to properly fasten himself to the saddle on dragonback, Baelon was careful in explaining the safety precautions before even thinking about flying on a dragon. Of course, there was Vaelor, but even the 12-foot-long dragonling was still too small to be ridden yet. They were bonded, sure, but Vaelor was still too small.
Vhagar, meanwhile, merely grumbled as she waited for the command.
"Annnnnnd… there we go," Baelon finished. "Safety first, Aeonar. Now while I hold the handles, you will grab these little latches here," he pointed out. "Whatever you do, hold on tight and don't let go. Understand?"
Aeonar nodded and eagerly held onto the leather latches as instructed. He was going to go flying on dragonback for the first time... with his grandfather! The little boy could barely contain his excitement.
"*Reeeeh!*" Vaelor squawked. Raising his head, the dragonling knew its rider was going somewhere without him. Feeling a case of separation anxiety, Vaelor did not want to be separated from Aeonar. "*Woooorh! Reeeh! Raaaa!*"
While Vhagar was less than amused, Baelon glanced at the ground to see Vaelor hopping about them. "Hehehe. It is like he is begging you to stay with him," he chuckled with amusement. "Ziry drējī vestragon naejot hae ao, sȳztrēsy. (He really seems to like you, grandson.)" Baelon looked at Aeonar who remained in his lap. "Ready to fly?"
"Yes!" Aeonar smiled. "C'mon, grandpa! Let's fly!"
"Okay, okay." Baelon chuckled. He glanced down at Vhagar's eyes, the Queen of All Dragons vocalizing an old clicking sound. Nodding, the Prince of Dragonstone and Hand of the King gripped the handles tightly. "Vagar... sōvēs! (Vhagar... fly!)" he commanded.
"*Wooooooooooorrh!*"
Vhagar growled and raised herself. Aeonar nearly fumbled forward, but the strap held him in place and Baelon's reassurance he was safe. Still, it was a bumpy experience. Raising her left foot high, Vhagar made a thunderous stomp before moving forward. Vaelor screeched again and tried to run after her, but thanks to Vhagar's enormous she had already gained enough traction to be leagues ahead of the young dragonling. Once, twice, thrice… Vhagar spread her wings apart before beating hard until she took flight.
"Whooaaaaaaaa!" Aeonar shouted with glee.
Baelon felt like he was young again. Feeling the breeze past his face, the sensation of riding a dragon, coupled with the fact that he was spending precious time with his first grandchild, was the least he could do for the boy. Who knows? Perhaps Aeonar would one day follow him in his footsteps or carve out a name for himself.
"*Reeeeeeee!*" a high-pitched screech was heard.
Raising a curious eyebrow, Baelon glanced over his shoulder and, to his great surprise, saw Vaelor beating his wings as hard as he could trying to catch up to Vhagar. Aeonar turned to see his dragon too. Vaelor kept screeching and squawking as his wings flapped against the breeze. "Hmmm. Persistent little bugger, but he sure is fast," Baelon commented. "Sȳztrēsy, skoros gaomagon vestrā īlon dīnagon Valor naejot se iderennes? (Grandson, what do you say we put Vaelor to the test?)" he said loudly.
Aeonar looked up at his grandfather. "Skoros sȳz hen iderennes, sȳzkepa? (What kind of test, grandpa?)" he asked just as loudly.
Baelon said nothing but instead steered Vhagar left and right, noticing Vaelor following close behind them. For such a small dragonling, Aeonar's draconic companion was surprisingly fast and maneuverable in the skies. If they kept up at this pace, Vaelor was about to close the gap. He patted Vhagar's back three times.
"*Gwuaaaaaarh!*" Vhagar bellowed a guttural growl and flew higher.
"*Reeee! Raaargh!*" Vaelor screeched as he followed the older, larger dragon hoping to get to its humanoid companion.
"Aeonar," Baelon looked down, "close your eyes." Once he saw his grandson obediently shut his eyes, the elder Targaryen prince looked serious. "Dracarys, Vhagar!" he commanded firmly.
Vhagar's jaws opened, and a bright orangish hue glowed from the two small tubes in her throat before blasting a jet of conflagration into the clouds before ducking down. Aeonar felt the intense heat of Vhagar's fire-breath and almost exclaimed. Baelon, meanwhile, smirked as he again looked behind him. A large burst of smoke and fire behind them. But then…
"*REEEE! WOORAAH!*"
In a surprising turn, Baelon saw Vaelor burst through the blazing inferno with astonishing speed and tucked his wings close to his side, soaring faster until he finally closed the gap. Vhagar's growl in acknowledgment of the dragonling's presence but warned him to keep his distance from her. Providing enough space, Vaelor squawked again at Aeonar, who waved at him.
After a long flight around the Blackwater Rush, Baelon motioned for Vhagar to land on the shoreline. The ancient dragon descended before landing on the beaches with a thundering stomp. Awaiting them were Viserys, Aemma, and a little Rhaenyra. As Baelon and Aeonar climbed down, Vhagar growled and lowered herself to rest. But as soon as they contacted the ground, Vaelor swooped in – still screeching and squawking anxiously – and playfully knocked Aeonar to the ground with his snout.
"Aeonar!" Aemma exclaimed with surprise and worry.
Viserys laughed as Aeonar was in a giggling fit as Vaelor continued nuzzling the child.
"Vaelor!" Aeonar laughed as he tried to shove Vaelor's snout off him. "Okie, okie! I miss you too!"
Baelon simply watched as his son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren come together. He would eventually have to return to take part in the grand hunt, but for now, he preferred to have this intimate moment with his family. However, things were not meant to last. During the flight, Baelon began to experience great discomfort in the right side of his lower abdomen and began sweating profusely.
"Father?" Viserys noticed.
"Father-in-law, are you all right?" Aemma noticed as well.
Baelon tried to speak, but he could not say anything. But then, he suddenly felt excruciating pain and collapsed on the sandy beach, hands clutching his sides. Vaelor and Vhagar both suddenly stopped what they were doing as soon as they heard a panicked frenzy.
"Father!? Father!" Viserys shouted as Baelon remained on the ground, eyes shut and howling in agony. "Someone get a maester! Hurry!"
Vhagar instinctively realized something was very wrong and nudged Baelon with her snout, growling, and hissing, knowing her rider was in great pain. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing worked.
Aeonar, meanwhile, simply watched the commotion before his young eyes. "Grandpa?" he said softly. "Gra… Grandpa?"
ooOoo
Viserys was so lost in thought of the terrible events that happened that day. It was the last time he ever saw Vhagar again. But the king knew she was not dead yet. No, he still heard rumors about her from time to time.
"Do you know where she is?" Laena asked.
Viserys appeared to snap back into reality. "I'm sorry?" he requested.
"Do you know where Vhagar is now?"
"Uhhh… the Dragonkeepers believe she made a home somewhere on the coast of the Narrow Sea."
Laena's interest heightened. "The workers at Spicetown back home on Driftmark say they hear her songs at times. They say it is a sad thing," she mentioned.
"I imagine even dragons get lonely," Viserys sighed. Just as I miss my father and Aemma... I know how you feel, Vhagar. Trust me. I miss them too.
"Your Grace," Laena's formal address caught the king's attention, "it would be a great honor to join our houses as they were in Old Valyria. I would give you many children of pure Valyrian blood so that we might strengthen the royal line and the realm."
Viserys raised a suspicious eyebrow. What? We have not even agreed to anything yet. Those must have been the words Lord Corlys told her to say. "Is that what your father told you to say?" That sort of conduct is not only unbecoming but morally incomprehensible! Especially to your daughter! But he maintained his composure. Viserys then noticed Laena shifting her posture, indicating her growing discomfort as well. So, he instead decided to take an innovative approach. "What did your mother tell you?" he inquired.
Laena fidgeted nervously before looking up at Viserys. "That I wouldn't have to bed you until I turned 14," she answered honestly.
Viserys felt uncomfortable, hearing a child talking about bedding him in two years. It made his stomach clench. He tried to remind himself that his grandfather King Jaehaerys had married his beloved sister-wife Queen Alysanne when they were sixteen and fourteen, respectively. But there had not been a massive age difference between the two. Personally, Viserys found this whole thing preposterous. Granted, his marriage to Aemma had been arranged. But it had been made when they were both young, they had been allowed years to get to know each other. In the winters she would come to King's Landing and in the summers, he would visit her in the Eyrie. Oh, how he missed those carefree days of his youth. Sitting with Aemma on the balconies of the Eyrie, looking down at the Vale below. Reading poetry and history together, his fingers caressing her silver hair… Life had been simpler once when he was just a simple prince. People thought that a king could do as they wished. Instead, he was forever trapped by rules, tradition, and the wishes of his council.
As today's walk through the gardens ended and Laena returned to Corlys and Rhaenys's side, Viserys had to sit down on one of the marble benches to collect his thoughts.
Why, Aeonar? Why would you have to try to arrange a match with a child?
"Excuse me, Your Grace?" a soft feminine voice called out.
Viserys was nearly startled as to who was suddenly getting his attention. But as soon as he turned around, he saw Beatrice Peake approaching him. Curtseying politely, Beatrice's dress was an orange Myrish gown with three black castles sown along her hemline. It fitted her body from the chest to the knee, then flares out close to the knee to show off her curves.
"Oh, uh... ah, Lady Beatrice," Viserys stammered and rose to his feet. "Good morning. How can I help you?"
Beatrice smiled. "Well, I was hoping to have a word with you… if you have time, that is."