Dragonstone ― Stone Drum…
Alicent had been in the bath for quite some time since being brought back to Dragonstone from Storm's End. What had begun as a tour throughout the realm ended in humiliation, the words of Borros Baratheon had stung her. No matter how hard the Lord of Storm's End demanded his heir cease and retract his comments, it didn't stop him from doubling down until Aeonar interfered and put him in his place. She brushed a wet sponge across her left arm, gently caressing it instead of picking at her fingernails again. Alicent looked down at her swollen belly protruding from the bathwater. Just another four months and this second pregnancy will be over. Closing her eyes, she momentarily basks in the relief this bath is providing her.
"You spend more time in baths than usual even during the progress."
Alicent reopened her eyes to see Aeonar approaching. Once he sat beside her, he took one in his. "It's the only place I can find relative comfort these days," she sighed. "Not that you'd understand if you were born a woman, but pregnancy can take a lot out of you with each passing month."
Aeonar brushed his fingers across the water. "Huh. It's tepid," he noticed. "Have the servants made sure your accommodations are met?"
"Yes, my love. And do not fret about the water. It is as hot as Maester Alwyn will allow. He says we can't risk it getting too hot for the baby."
"You'd think he would understand that dragons prefer heat."
"Hm. When I was first pregnant with Jaehaerys, I thought I would end up hatching an actual dragon. Silly, isn't it?" Alicent exhaled slowly. "Taniya once said that the second pregnancy is easier than the first. Our bodies are already familiar with it and better prepared, but at the same time, the symptoms are much harsher than they initially were before. It's more exhausting and I find myself feeling more nauseous lately."
"An unfortunate side effect, I'm sure. But we're in this together." Aeonar moved behind her and placed both palms on Alicent's bare shoulders. "For good, this time." He gently pressed his fingers against the trapezius muscles and slowly moved them in a circular motion. "So… have you guessed the sex of the child? A boy, or a girl?"
"Mmm. You men are so impatient. I don't know, Aeonar."
"Maybe one of each?"
"Pffft! Hahaha. Do not get greedy now. Mmm! Can you perhaps… go a little bit lower?" Alicent groaned at the tightened muscles in her neck, shoulders, and upper back being released from all the tension. Once she felt pressure applied to her erector spinae, Alicent slightly arched. "Mmm! That's the spot…" Trigger points within the erector spinae muscles are often numerous, like a string full of knots. Whatever technique Aeonar was using in targeting these trigger points, Alicent felt a satisfying sensation. "Mmm. You're surprisingly good with your hands. Thank you, Aeonar. I―Mmm!―needed that."
Aeonar paid close attention to detail, moving his fingers from behind Alicent's shoulder blades to her lower back and near her hips, never minding his arms were getting wet. His Lykirī Mēre training was more beneficial in many ways. He made certain Alicent was feeling as comfortable as possible throughout her pregnancy. But his mind was elsewhere. That fool Borros made quite the scene at Storm's End, insulting Rhaenyra and Alicent the way he did in his drunken state. The next time that insignificant fool puts another toe out of line, I will cut out his tongue myself. And yet, he may one day pose a problem.
"Aeonar?"
"Hmm?"
"You're being quiet. Is there something on your mind?"
"Nothing to that extent. I have already had some of my Dragonkeepers scour the island for suitable dragon eggs for our next child. No easy task, but they're confident they can find a fresh clutch."
"I'm sure they can locate any for our child, so long as the Dragonkeepers remain safe."
"I agree… provided they stay away from the Rhúqo region in the east."
Alicent raised an eyebrow. "Why the east?" she asked curiously.
Aeonar looked serious. "Alicent, what I'm about to tell you must never leave this room." He took a slow breath. "Long ago, the inhabitants of Dragonstone tell a tale of an enormous wild dragon that made its nest near Mórislentor, just south near the Fort Embar ruins. A wild, monstrous dragon with coal-black scales and baleful green eyes. It never accepted a rider and would kill any who dared trespass in its territory. The bones of those who tried to claim such a beast were scattered throughout its lair to serve as a warning for native dragonseeds to stay away from the area. Those foolish enough to ignore them were never seen again."
"O-Oh my…"
"It was so large, so aggressive, that it would even attack and devour smaller dragons. Hence the name… the Cannibal."
Alicent's face turned pale upon hearing the story. If what Aeonar was telling her was indeed accurate, although skeptical amongst maesters, then the warning would be guaranteed.
"And so, as Prince of Dragonstone, I issued an edict to everyone living on the island and to visiting dignitaries throughout the realm as well as our trade partners across the Narrow Sea to stay away from the Rhúqo region." Aeonar shook his head. "It's simply too dangerous." He looked at Alicent. "If anything, any dragon egg we find will have to be relocated to the warming chamber without delay. Haaah… and here I am rambling on where you have our child growing inside your womb. Some supportive husband I am."
"I, uh… appreciate your concern for me and our baby, but… try not to scare me like that next time, okay?"
"I'll try to do better next time."
Before long, there was a knock at the bathroom door. Alicent and Aeonar looked up and hollered whoever it was to not enter. Getting themselves ready, Aeonar helped Alicent out of the tub so she could dry herself off.
"Who is it?" Aeonar called out.
"Natari, my prince," a young handmaiden answered from the other side of the door. "Forgive my intrusion, but Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Criston Cole have arrived."
Now? What in Seven hells is Rhaenyra doing here? I thought I told her to finish her tour! Aeonar groaned, shaking his head. "Ugh! Where are they now?"
"In the great hall, my prince."
"Just give us a moment. We'll be down shortly."
Dragonstone ― Great Hall…
"Princess," Criston called out, "your brother is not going to be too pleased when he learns what happened."
Rhaenyra scoffed. "Please, Ser Criston. Aeonar already knows the situation back home, so he wouldn't mind if we stopped by for a short visit occasionally," she brushed her hair back.
"Yes, but… why with such short notice?"
"It's nearest to King's Landing, and I'd prefer to spend my time with people who listen to me instead of looking the other way or downplaying everything that had transpired. Especially given what happened at Storm's End, I do not doubt that my father will have Baratheon's tongue for that."
"But why not at least send a raven informing His Grace what happened?"
"Because that bitch or any of her lackeys would most likely intercept the message for themselves and not tell my father anything." Rhaenyra then noticed a few handmaidens gathering around the fireplace with a few scattered wooden knights and dragons across the ground. She could determine that it belonged to her now three-year-old nephew Jaehaerys. He was getting bigger and by the time he was walking, the child was making the servants chase him all around the castle. "Now that's funny," she commented.
"Ah! Princess," the maids acknowledged.
"A... Auntie Rhaenie," Jaehaerys waddled over.
Rhaenyra playfully rolled her eyes. "Still calling me that, tresy? (nephew)?" she bent down to meet the child at eye level. "It's Rhaenyra. Got it? Ray-KNEE-ruh. Rhaenyra. Can you say it?"
"R-Rhaenie…"
"Rhaenyra. Come on, Jay. It's not too hard."
"Rha… Rhaen…"
"Yes, yes. That is it. Come on. You almost got it."
"Rhaenwa."
Rhaenyra lowered her head. "Uhhh… I give up," she sighed.
"He's only three, little sister. You cannot expect a child his age to pronounce someone's name correctly overnight," a calm yet stern voice called out to her.
Rhaenyra looked up to see Aeonar and Alicent both treading down a flight of steps leading to the great hall. Escorted by Ser Steffon and Ser Erryk, they dressed appropriately for the unexpected arrival of their guests. And judging by the look on her elder brother's face, Rhaenyra knew Criston's earlier assumption was correct. Although Alicent kept up the appearance of being welcoming, Aeonar, however, was not pleased.
"You still had two months left of your tour throughout the realm, and yet I hear it's been abruptly called off. May I ask why?" Aeonar interrogated.
"Sheesh, no need to get so grumpy, brother. Besides, I'd rather not indulge myself by having to sit through that again."
"We had an agreement, Rhaenyra."
"And I endured it as much as I could."
Alicent approached. Although her hair was drying, it remained wet in certain spots. Cleaned from top to bottom, she smelled of fresh fragrance. Rose petals, vanilla, mint. "To have every young knight and lord in the Seven Kingdoms fawning over you… surely it sounds as romantic when you think about it, no?" she inquired. "It is rare for girls in this realm to get a choice between two suitors, no less than two scores of them."
Rhaenyra shook her head. "Those men and boys don't fawn over me," she denied. "They only want my name and my Valyrian blood for their offspring."
"I think it's rather romantic."
"Pffft! Yes, romantic for you. How romantic it must be to get imprisoned in a castle and made to squeeze out heirs for the rest of your life."
"Rhaenyra!" Aeonar scolded angrily. "Mittys! (Idiot!)" Throwing his hands in the air in frustration, the prince walked off with Criston following closely behind him. Steffon and Erryk, though bound to accompany the king's heir, opted to remain in the great hall to observe the princess.
Rhaenyra somewhat flinched when her brother snapped at her, but more so when she realized what she had just said because she noticed Alicent looking hurt, as this now exactly describes her situation in life. Then the memory of what happened back at Storm's End came back to her, and now the princess felt a pang of guilt over her choice of words. "I'm sorry, Alicent. I… I did not mean it," she apologized. "He's that angry with me, isn't he?" she asked referring to Aeonar.
Alicent sighed. Angry… doesn't begin to describe it, Rhaenyra. "He is… disappointed, Rhaenyra," she answered honestly. "The king went through great effort to arrange your tour. Aeonar gave you the liberty of choosing a husband rather than having one be arranged for you." She massaged her swollen belly. "But I am glad to see you, as is Aeonar… even if he doesn't often express it."
"He sure has a way of expressing himself differently than I do. That is another reason I chose to come here before going back home. I wanted to see you. See how you were doing… considering."
"You mean with Lord Boremund's son? I am… I am all right, Rhaenyra. Really. It wasn't how we planned for our tour to end, but the journey getting this far was worth it. Don't blame yourself for what happened back there."
"But it was romantic seeing Aeonar put that fool Borros in his place? Defending your honor?" Rhaenyra smirked.
Alicent nearly snorted. "Okay, okay. I will admit that was romantic," she chuckled. Her face then hung slightly low. "I am glad you stopped by. I find I have… few friends lately. I like to believe I'm still just Lady Alicent Hightower, but... all anyone sees when they look at me now is 'the princess consort.'"
"You know you're more than that. Bound by blood or not, you're my sister. Now and always."
"Now and always, you are my sister. You're more than welcome to stay with us if you want."
"Thanks for the offer. I might take you up on that offer," Rhaenyra and Alicent held each other's hands in comfort before the princess placed one hand on her sister-in-law's pregnant stomach. Massaging it up and down, she cheekily grinned. "You think it's a boy or a girl?" she teased.
"Oh no, not you too, Rhaenyra," Alicent rolled her eyes. "Like I told Aeonar, I won't know the sex of this child yet until they're born in four months."
"Well, if it's a girl, do you think I can name her―"
"No."
"But what if―"
"No."
"Aw, come on! It will be a good name―"
"No."
Dragonstone ― Outer Bailey…
Ser Criston looked over the outer bailey for Aeonar, but the prince was so quick he nearly lost sight of him. Once making it back outside, the Kingsguard knight examined the numerous dragon-shaped statues found all over the place. Criston silently admitted the Valyrian architecture was indeed a remarkable sight as was the stonemasonry technique used to its rough, austere appearance. Overall, it felt more like a military base rather than a palace. But the salty air of Dragonstone made the island fortress smell like smoke and brimstone. "Excuse me. Have you seen the prince anywhere?" he asked one of the natives.
"Sparion bisa vala? (Who is this man?)" a fisherman cocked his head.
"Umm… Prince Aeonar. Aeonar Targaryen. Have you seen him?"
"Dārilaros Aeónar Targārien lentor? Skorkydoso gaomas vala rhēdetan Dārilaros? (Prince Aeonar Targaryen? How does this man know the prince?)" a seamstress inquired.
"Ēdruta sagon azantys. (Must be a knight.)" A stablemaster looked at him.
"Ziry azantys. (He is a knight.)" A blacksmith remarked. "Jūndan zȳha mīsvoso. (Look at his armor.)"
Criston felt himself growing restless. "Look, has anyone seen Aeonar Targaryen? He is the Prince of Dragonstone. I'm told he was last seen in this area."
"Gaomas ziry tha shifang īlva? (Does he not understand us?)"
"Ziry daor gaomas Valyrio ȳdrā. (He doesn't speak Valyrian.)"
"I'm up here, Ser Criston," a voice called.
Criston turned in that direction and looked up. To his surprise, he could see Aeonar sitting on the edge of one of the dragon-shaped statues overlooking the outer bailey. His legs were dangling over the edge of one of the pillars' viewpoints. By the gods, it could not have been more than eighty feet tall! "How the fuck did you get up there?!" he asked loudly, mostly out of concern for the prince's safety.
"I climbed. The vantage point gives me a view of the beach from here. Like a scout's lookout tower," Aeonar, deciding now was the time to get down, shifted his body sideways and gripped the black stone dragon's smooth edges, and began his descent. Stone by stone, fingers and toes digging hard into the small crevices between, the prince retained some of his adventurous sides on a few occasions since childhood. The deep, sweet ache left in his muscles whenever he climbed up and down. That was the best time of all. It was like playing a game with his family, except that Aeonar always won. None of the guards could climb half so well as he did, not even Harrold. Most of the time they never saw him anyway. People often looked up expecting him on the back of a dragon, but not once did they suspect Aeonar of climbing so high with relative ease. That was another thing he liked about climbing; it was almost like being invisible. Once he was close to the ground, Aeonar released his grip and jumped off, landing on the ground. "But the Lykirī Mēre made what looked like a child's playtime into an advantage." The prince turned to the natives. "Amastan botē. Unir ez ao. (Back to work. All of you.)" he instructed.
Criston watched as the fishermen, seamstress, stablemaster, and blacksmith all resumed their assigned duties without question.
"They don't speak the Common Tongue, Ser Criston. Haaah… dragonseeds."
"Dragon… seeds?"
"Bastards of Targaryen and Velaryon descent," Aeonar explained. "When my ancestors came to Westeros from the Valyrian Freehold before the Doom, they practiced the lord's right to the first night on Dragonstone. The smallfolk did not protest as they saw us as gods. That stopped when my great-grandparents banned the lord's right to the first night. Then whoever was caught doing it would be guilty of rape."
"Ah. So that explains it. My mother and grandmother often told stories about the horrid practice. Taking the bride into another man's bed before her betrothed could. I am glad the Old King made it illegal for any man to do such a thing, lord or no."
"I agree. So whenever you hear commoners singing praises to the Good Queen Alysanne, that's why. They loved her for it. Things were never the same when my great-grandmother died sixteen years ago." Aeonar turned to see three Dragonkeepers returning. "Ah, here they are. Skorverdon? (How many?)"
"Hāriar drōma, dārilaros ñuhys. (Three eggs, my prince.)"
"Sȳz. Dijemiot hannēliks lōtūljās sīrgō. (Good. See that they are placed in the warming chamber at once.)"
"Aōhoso udrāzmī. (As you command.)"
Aeonar and Criston stepped aside to let the Dragonkeepers carry the brazier toward the castle. Once out of sight, it was just the two of them again. "Haah… it never ends," he sighed.
"I apologize for the princess," Criston acknowledged. "But she was rather persistent in stopping here first."
"No, no, Ser Criston. Do not apologize. It is just how Rhaenyra is. My sister never was one to hold our customs or traditions, let alone rules, in high esteem. Nor does she take them seriously."
"So she's… always like this?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Being the oldest can be a gift and a curse."
"Then I suppose it's fortunate I'm glad to be an only child."
"How fortunate indeed. I did mean what I said last year in the kingswood. Rhaenyra has more personal freedoms than I do. I envy her for not bearing such a heavy burden on one's shoulders. I simply cannot walk away from it all."
"And like I told her, many in the realm would be more than glad to trade places with any of you."
"Only because they've never lived the lives we had. You spend so much time on the outside trying to get in, and once you do, it's not what you'd expect." Aeonar looked up at the skies. "You know, the first time I ever set foot on Dragonstone, I was only six years old. The Great Council elected my father as the Old King's new heir. So we relocated from the capital to this place for the next two years before we received a raven from Ser Otto informing us of Jaehaerys's passing."
"I've heard the stories, though I was never one to be interested in politics. They can be messy and self-serving... ah, I spoke out of turn again."
"No, I don't blame you for thinking that way. But politics is sometimes necessary for steering the country's direction. For better or worse, the king makes decisions that shake the world. But only history will decide how they will be remembered for their actions. Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel, Jaehaerys the Conciliator… I fear many have already forgotten past mistakes after 74 years of relative peace."
"Well," Criston jested, "keep banging your head against the problem. It'll go away eventually."
Aeonar raised an eyebrow. "Wha…? Oh. Well, aren't you a funny man." Got to give him credit for that. He is trying. "As tempting as it is, the best approach is to uncover the enemy's secrets and use it to exploit their weaknesses to your advantage before they have the chance to strike." He leaned against the statue. "Aegon laid the very cornerstones when he united six of the seven independent kingdoms into a single realm. The wise Jaehaerys built the foundation and ushered in a golden age. But times change. So to ensure the realm prospers, we find we need to adapt and be willing to part with what is no longer useful before the miserable rot eats away at all we have built and worked for."
"You sound like a merchant wanting to sell me something. So why don't we make the world a better place in honor of the Old King's memory."
"Because everyone agrees on what 'better' means. It's how we get there that divides us."
"Even if we don't agree on things, they're certainly admirable."
"Oh, excellent: the blind leading the blind. But it takes little effort in making the slightest tug to ruin a tapestry."
"Well, given everything I've seen, I don't think you're blind, my prince."
"Clearly you've been spending too much time with Rhaenyra."
"Is it wrong?"
"I rest my case." Aeonar shrugged. "When my sister informed me of her decision to recommend you to the Kingsguard, I would have laughed at the notion that any knight could replace Ser Ryam Redwyne. But I stand corrected. She chose well."
Criston smiled. "I hope this means we can call each other friends," he extended his hand.
"I hope so too," Aeonar shook his hand. "I have so few friends these days because of my status as royalty. We still have a long road ahead of us, Ser Criston. Wherever it takes us, we will make the world a better place."