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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Category:
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Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)Warhammer Fantasy
Characters:
Ikit ClawRhaenyra TargaryenJacaerys VelaryonLucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Daemon TargaryenCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonHelaena TargaryenAddam VelaryonBackground & Cameo CharactersSilverwing | Alysanne Targaryen's DragonOriginal CharactersJoffrey Velaryon
Additional Tags:
Crack Treated SeriouslyCanon-Typical ViolenceThe Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen EraAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanonical Character DeathCharacter Turned Into a HumanIkit got isekai'd as Jace's twinSkaven Species (Warhammer Fantasy)Death to all GreensHuman ExperimentationScience ExperimentsIkit is his own warningSilverwing still has shit taste in male ridersPOV MultipleBackground RelationshipsBackground Character Deathshow canon onlyDragon RidersAnimal AbuseIkit is an abusive dragonriderTho he's fairly mellow compared to his SkavenselfGood Parent Rhaenyra TargaryenNo beta we die like LucerysDysfunctional FamilyCannibalismBlood and TortureCanon-Typical BehaviorBAMF Helaena Targaryen
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English
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Published:2026-02-26Completed:2026-04-22Words:181,492Chapters:55/55Comments:1,270Kudos:749Bookmarks:160Hits:33,683
The Rat Prince of Westeros
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 54: Maester Bodrin
Chapter Text
The Mother of Monsters; a study of Queen Rhaenyra's second son Prince Ikit the Savage by Maester Bodrin.
The end of Queen Rhaenyra's reign was quiet, gentle, compared to the calamity that began with her ascension. Forty one years since her younger half-brother Aegon Targaryen, son of King Viserys and his second wife Queen Alicent Hightower, usurped her throne and started the beginning of the war that came to be known as the Dance of the Dragons.
I had only been a boy of five namedays when word came to Oldtown and the Hightower lit its green beacon. When Prince Daeron and Lord Ormund Hightower marched to war, in support of their kin.
It was folly which cost them their lives, and the lives of so many others.
Including the Hightower itself.
I had been down at the Rose Gate, helping my mother who was a merchant to move bags of grain. It had been a fair day, even if the chill of winter was upon us, when the two dragons had been spotted in the sky.
The horns had blared and the city watch along with the remnants of the Hightower forces ran to their posts while we huddled at the gate like mice before a hunting hawk. Scorpions lined the walls of Oldtown, the usurpation had been years in the making, so the city was prepared to try and re-enact Meraxes's death. Yet it was not dragonfire that befell Oldtown, but rather the Dawn of the Second Son. Or sun. Depending upon the ink used, it would be either or and both are the same when spoken aloud.
I was thrown flat by the air and heat, when the explosion began upon the Hightower and the shock wave of it rippled across the city. My mother was rendered blind like so many others as she made the error of looking directly into the green sun as it swallowed the ancient tower. She never grew back her sight like so many others.
I suffered from burns, even from being so far away, and had grown up in the aftermath of Prince Ikit's visit to Oldtown. It took nearly ten years for the harbour to be rebuilt, in large part due to the aid of House Velaryon. Addam of Hull and his brother, Alyn, had sailed to the wounded city once winter was done and aided in the construction efforts which were partially funded by Queen Rhaenyra.
She was our queen, after all. Even for the horrific event that occurred in war against her enemies, in peace we were all her subjects.
But I never forgot that sight. Its name was a Doomsphere by the Rat Prince himself yet myself and many others would refer to it as the Second Son. Both for its creator and the appearance of the huge boiling orb that destroyed the Hightower.
While I studied at the Citadel as a young man oft I would look out the windows and see that great empty space in the harbour where once the Hightower stood over it all. From its very peak the Wall could be seen, so many hundreds of thousands of leagues away. People of Oldtown could judge the time of day by its shadow, and the foundation of the keep had been in Oldtown since before anyone could remember.
And now it was gone.
I grew up with that knowledge, with that great ball of green fire in my dreams. And as the decades passed we saw more of Prince Ikit's genius. Not just in his terrible, great weapon but in the technology that began to sweep across the realm.
At first it had been long range communication devices. Farsqueakers, which many found odd and endearing. But they were instantaneous, and unheard of. Ravens were the main method of communication across long distances, yet they could be shot down or hindered by storms or intercepted. The farsqueakers could not. So by the time the year of 137AC came to pass, all the Great Houses held one within their keep somewhere.
Disgraced Dowager Queen Alicent also died that year, having gone mad and stabbed herself to death via a spoon handle to the throat. Though many claimed she became mad after all her children died for her ambition for the throne, having spent years screaming and begging within her cell while clawing off her nails or tearing her fingers down to the bone while pleading deep agony, of thousands of knives cutting into her from the inside so she could not move an inch without agony, despite the maesters never finding such evidence. Madness, grief, regret, guilt, we will never know the disgraced queen's final thoughts as she took her own life that day. With her death the last of the Green faction vanished to history even as the power of Queen Rhaenyra grew.
Of course the spread of technology was not without incident. During my time in the Citadel, one foolish lad pried open the handheld farsqueaker to attempt to make sense of its inner mechanisms and we spent the next week scrubbing what remained of him from the walls. It was also now know how Prince Ikit was establishing an order for others to be capable of handling warpstone- or wyrdstone -without his immediate involvement.
The Order of Skryre, as it became known. And those that were accepted became known as Warlock Engineers. For they did not just dabble in arcane but science. Melding the two in a means none had ever witnessed across the world.
There had been several push backs, protests and complaints and attempts at sabotage. One of the loudest from the Citadel, if only due to the fact women would be accepted into the ranks of Warlock Engineers while the Order had been firm women would never be welcome within its ranks. During the reign of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, the Good Queen had suggested the maesters open their doors to women and had promptly been laughed at for such a foolish suggestion. Meanwhile it would seem Prince Ikit held no issue with women seeking out his arcane secrets and if anything those of nimble fingers, from years of embroidery, found themselves a deft hand at taming the wires and delicate work of the Skryre objects.
Service as a maester is considered a noble calling, one of vital importance to a prosperous and stable realm. Many refer to the Order as the Knights of the Mind. I chose to join the Citadel due to my awe over the green sun I had witnessed. Never once, in all my years, did I dream of anything else. Every time I shut my eyes I saw that grand explosion, felt my skin being burned by the super heated air. And then in peace, where Prince Ikit proved his valour not just in warfare but in dragging Westeros forward in what many came to label as the Age of Industrialization.
At the age of thirty, I acquired multiple links upon my chain. Bronze and copper, iron and silver. Valyrian steel, of the higher mysteries. Yellow gold for mathematics. At a tender age Prince Ikit had been labeled a genius by Maester Gerardys, the maester of Dragonstone. His letters to the Citadel, detailing the boy's intellect, were still held in storage. So I wished to learn as much as I could, to have my weapons ready for when I decided to set forth.
Yet while forging those chains I never escaped the urge to go forth myself to experience these wonders myself. Books may contain so much knowledge yet I know all written accounts could never reach the grandeur of witnessing that great second sun in the sky. Those who read about it in books would never truly understand. And for that, I knew if I was to ever meet the illusive Rat Prince himself I must seek him myself. Yet first I must glut upon knowledge in a familial place, even as the reign of the first ruling queen continued.
The reign of Queen Rhaenyra, despite the bloodiness of the beginning, settled into a peaceful, prosperous rule much like her father's had been.
We all know of Prince Jacaerys and his lady wife Baela, with their son and daughter. They traveled on a royal progress to present their children to the realm, and to reaffirm ties with the many Houses scattered across the land in the aftermath of winter and the rebuilding across the realm. The Riverlands, Vale, the North, the Westerlands, the Reach, the Stormlands. Storm's End now within the grasp of House Fell, even if construction of the bridge was kept under constant maintenance. The marriage of Addam of Hull to Lady Anora Fell was welcomed, even if there had been several rules implemented. Yet Addam's vigilance over the Stepstones was well welcomed, as the Dornish still bristled at the brutality inflicted against their princess and Sunspear years ago.
The Order of Skryre as well swelled, with many fascinated to join its ranks as Prince Ikit seemed to have no real criteria beyond those willing to try and if they could reach him then he would teach them.
Many volunteered or considered it prestigious, yet just as many failed to pass the tests. Some even died, either by accidents or attempting to steal. One notable incident was when the son of a lesser House twisted and went mad, after trying to smuggle the wyrdstone from Dragonstone where the Order was established. I have tried to wrangle fact from fiction, yet the accounts of just what had happened to the boy was mixed. Some say he burned to death. Others say he melted. More say he turned into a monster until Prince Ikit killed him. Like many things it had many answers.
With the slow tutoring of the Warlock Engineers, the technological advancements began to bloom. The greatest of all was electricity. Where every keep and city had candles and torches, braziers and hearths, the electricity introduced in King's Landing nullified that. Several maesters had been sent from the Citadel to learn of the phenomena, invited by Queen Rhaenyra herself to witness this new technology. The closest I could compare it to would be the glass candles of Old Valyria, yet it would seem the lights, bulbs and electricity were science over magic.
A glass bulb encasing numerous fine wires and fuses, attached to more wiring leading to an energy supply of warpstone. Lady Rhaena had been one of the more prominent in explaining such a things, as her deft fingers in embroidery meant she had the elegance to carefully and patiently coil the wires together and many a noble woman began to take her lead.
The maesters sent to King's Landing returned nearly a year later, with a Warlock Engineer in tow and wagons of wiring, bulbs and gleaming green stone.
I attended these seminars, where the electric was explained through diagrams and schematics. It was technology indeed, even if many of us struggled to comprehend it. A new link was added for maesters to acquire, the study of electricity. The warpstone could only be safely handled by one of those tutored in Skryre, however the bulbs and wiring could be fixed by any hand. Yet it was a danger for those who knew not, as it was explained electricity was raw energy. Touch it foolishly and you would die like one struck by lightning.
The maester presenting then showed it by touching one of the wires onto a pumpkin and an acolyte nearly lost an eye as the gourd exploded.
The man who accompanied them, the Warlock Engineer, was like any man. Wearing a strange heavy suit, with a Warplock Jezzail at his back, but he answered many questions those of the Citadel asked. Only those probing for Skryre secrets were rebuked, otherwise he remained courteous and spoke highly of Prince Ikit.
A man with absurd intellect yet was crass and rude, almost bestial. My curiosity for the Rat Prince only grew, especially as the Citadel was the first building within Oldtown to be given the glass lights. The wires were struck across the ceilings of so many corridors, halls and paths, and their light were a soft gold that never went out. When a glass bulb was broken it would be unscrewed and replaced, with glass works in high demand.
The first solid appearance of a non-violent weapon in Oldtown had garnered much curiosity and the great sphinxes at the Citadel's door had been draped in more lights for the common man to come and visit at night. While the bulbs grew hot they never burned and they lacked smoke like many torches.
It was a contrast for those survivors of Oldtown, to see the flameless light when last they had anything of Prince Ikit's stock came with terror.
But it was in part of Targaryens. What they do is what they have always done, and it is not for us to judge them for they are more akin to gods. And it certainly felt like a terrible god had befelled us that day, even as the harbour recovered and Prince Ikit's attentions were set upon less terrible works.
Yet even as peace prospered I could never forget that sun. The noise, the heat, the way the Hightower vanished. And so I traveled to Tumbleton when I first left the Citadel, left Oldtown, after thirty years as I decided to learn more directly of the Rat Prince.
Tumbleton was where Prince Daeron and Hugh the Betrayer met their ends. The people of the town were a strange lot, welcoming and vibrant but I could never feel at ease resting there. Tumbleton had suffered so badly in the Dance and even a decade later those wounds had turned into scars yet never forgotten. The air felt thick, watchful, and I would always hear rats despite never once seeing them.
Only two years after my visit did a fight occur in Tumbleton. A force of bandits, claiming to be those of the Faith Militant and citing the town of Tumbleton as heretics, demon worshippers. Yet it would seem the ill fate that a Warlock Engineer had been visiting, a daughter of House Celtigar, and when Tumbleton sealed its gates she stood upon the ramparts and rained Warpfire down upon the attackers. The Warlock Engineers were the only ones besides the royal family permitted to wield the Skryre weaponry and a lone woman killing a hundred men on her own made it apparent why.
I heard tell Prince Joffrey had one of the Skryre weapons, the Warplightning Cannon, affixed to his ship and had used it to sink corsair ships during his Great Journey to the land of shadow, Asshai. Prince Joffrey was well known to be a shadowy presence within the Red Keep, and particularly talented thieves and pickpockets were said to find themselves to be spirited into dungeons and then recruited into the 'rats' that slunk about the capital, eyes and ears of the royal court.
Perhaps a strange name, to be called after vermin, yet none can ever argue against a rats ability to infiltrate anything. To survive anything. And when Prince Joffrey returned from Asshai, with the cargo hold of his ship filled with strange and exotic treasures, it was rumoured he also returned with secrets of the shadowbinders and vile assassins of the Shadow.
Of course those were just rumours. None would speak ill of Prince Joffrey and his lady wife Rhaena, who were diligent towards Driftmark and Spicetown, aiding Prince Ikit as he implemented more of the electricity and rail lines along the harbours and wharfs which greatly helped the always busy locations. Both had helped Driftmark grow as the Sea Snake grew ever older; the man had spent his autumn years fighting in a civil war, and at his age could not walk anywhere without use of a cane and many knew he would not see the next winter, and so his grandchildren stepped forward.
Prince Aegon was another member who I only knew certain things of. A quiet boy, from what many said was more like to study at the Citadel than seek wild adventures across the sea. And many could not blame him, the boy suffered the loss of his dragon and thought his younger brother lost, and many scars of youth carry well onto adulthood. So he remained at King's Landing, a perfect princeling as he focused more upon histories, knowledge, and aiding his siblings quietly from the side.
His younger sibling Prince Viserys was a different cut. Wild and volatile, charming and quick witted, none were closer to Prince Ikit. Not even the Rat Prince's own twin would call, send letters, and visit him as oft as Prince Viserys. Of course none could blame him when so many years ago during the Dance when he was seized as a frightened child hostage during the Battle of the Gullet, the brother he had never met flew to his aid. Would not any sibling adore their hero, well and true?
As I traveled across the realm and finally reached King's Landing, it became apparent the technology of Oldtown paled in comparison to the massive leaps King's Landing had embraced. Huge rail systems had been set up from the docks and across the squares, able to carry goods and passengers above the streets without interfering with foot traffic. The lights were strung up, letting the city remain bright and alive even in the blackest night. And even walking to an inn I encountered several of the Warlock Engineers. Some with Jezzails, others with the Warpfire and one who instead had a pack of gleaming glass spheres. Most had their heavy uniforms with the gloves of green stones, and there was a near mystic air to King's Landing.
Science and magic, arcane and technology. Both coexisting when so many thought they could not.
I spent many a moon in King's Landing, learning everything I could of the royal family. Queen Rhaenyra and her Prince Consort Daemon, their assortment of children and grandchildren. Prince Viserys had tamed Morghul and joined his brothers and sisters in the sky. Yet I could not find Prince Ikit. I had once witnessed Silverwing, as gargantuan and grotesque as spoken, but I had not encountered her rider. Apparently Prince Ikit was fond of flying to Essos for prolonged periods of time, with no rhyme or reason even if at least once a year he would return as the Order of Skryre settled into itself without his direct supervision.
The Chief Warlock Engineer, Lady Sharra Celtigar, was the current ruler of the Order of Skryre who had been personally tutored by the Rat Prince himself and I was fortunate to be able to meet her in King's Landing. Like with all the others she spoke little of the arcane secrets yet was willing to tell me more of the electricity and mechanical components of her work.
We ended up discussing heavily in the night of her future plans and concepts for the waterways and pressurized plumbing system, while her Order overall was currently working on the integration of the warprail system, the blueprints of which Prince Ikit had created with them during his latest stay. It had been tentatively tested from King's Landing to Rosby, the steel rails laid next to the Rosby Road. The warprail allowed a giant metal wagonhouse fueled by warpstone, referred to as a 'train', to run along along it. Currently it was even faster than a galloping horse, with only dragons moving swifter, and the first test run had great results.
Apparently Queen Rhaenyra was heavily involved with the plans of laying new warprail lines across all of Westeros, following the Kingroad, to connect the Seven Kingdoms well and true. Due to the train being able to have over a dozen carriages, including those for both travelers and goods, it would be a wondrous boon for the people of the realm to travel to and fro as well as aiding immensely to help various keeps to survive winter. A conductor would be needed onsite, due to the warpstone, but it seemed a marvelous way to cut out on months of travel time. I could only understand some words and concepts as Lady Sharra excitedly shared it with me yet it seemed to me Westeros would march on with its Age of Industrialization.
Of course there were several upheavals during this age. The most prominent was the abduction the Princess Laena, the third daughter of Prince Jacaerys and Lady Baela. It was not the Rogue Prince who rescued the girl, from where she had been spirited away into the Riverlands to be ransomed, but rather Prince Viserys and Prince Joffrey.
Prince Joffrey infiltrated the castle on foot in the dead of night, avoiding every guard like a shadow secured the princess, Prince Viserys then attacked from air upon Morghul.
Prince Viserys had remained deeply fond of Prince Ikit as decades passed, and regularly accompanied him on journeys across the narrow sea. And it was seen well here, as he hurled lightning bolts like the Storm God of the Iron Islands, destroying large portions of the keep as his dragon vomited down flames. The bandits had then been rounded up and killed by Prince Daemon, who had waited some leagues away. Ceraxes so easily spotted while Morghul with his black scales and smaller size more easily hidden.
Magic, as their blood of Old Valyria. When I met with the court during one of my various visits to King's Landing, the air was thick and heavy. Almost like the humid heat of a glasshouse.
Yet as all time does, people began to pass. The first was Lord Corlys Velaryon, having collapsed upon the docks from a heart attack. At nearly ninety years of age, he was considered the greatest Lord of the Tides to ever grace the driftwood throne. His body was set before the Iron Throne after his death, for people to visit and give their farewells. Then he was moved to Driftmark and went through the traditional rites of House Velaryon with Prince Joffrey and Lady Rhaena presiding over the ceremony with their three daughters in attendance.
Then the Rogue Prince died only one year after Lord Corlys. It was a peaceful death, which for any who knew of Prince Daemon's reputation could be surprised by. From the many tales, I knew Prince Daemon was as equally loved and equally hated. A hero, a villain, dark and light, a wonder and a terror. Yet loyal, for all people claimed of his thirst for the Iron Throne he remained loyal to King Viserys and then to his queenly wife.
Queen Rhaenyra never recovered from his loss, wearing great black veils and shrouded in mourning. Shortly after his death, Dorne attempted to establish control over the Stepstones. Addam of Hull reached out to the Iron Throne for aid as he prepared Seasmoke for battle and they answered with Prince Joffrey and Lady Rhaena. Tyraxes with his purple scales, Morning with her pink. And Prince Ikit with his monstrous Silverwing.
The invasion died as quickly as it began, especially after Prince Ikit flew to Sunspear as his fellow dragonriders secured the isles.
The city did not burn but the complete silence besides an apology letter from the prince of Dorne helped ease tensions, especially with the letter tentatively suggesting assimilation into Westeros to avoid Prince Ikit's return. It was rumoured Prince Ikit had created more of the Doomspheres, hidden in a dragoncave upon Dragonstone. It was dangled before Dorne, that they would suffer the same fate as the Hightower. Truth or not, I know not. But Dorne had retreated quickly to itself well and fast, so a war had died as swiftly as it had started.
Meanwhile King's Landing continued to flourish, electricity now used in many homes and manses, powering bakery's and countless machinery. And the Order of Skryre, with the secrets of tempering Valyrian steel and handling wyrdstone, grew to one of the most powerful organizations in the Seven Kingdoms. The warprails had now been successful linked to Lannisport, Highgarden, Storm's End, Riverrun and the Vale even if that last one proved most difficult due to the Vale's rocky landscape. Currently they were slowly making their way northward, to connect Winterfell to the rest of the kingdoms together in a way not yet seen since King Jaehaerys era. Queen Rhaenyra had begun that ambitious act and it seemed her son was determined to finish it as the queen's health began to fail her and Prince Jacaerys took on more and more responsibilities with his loyal wife Baela as always at his side.
Of course such power was lusted upon and over the years there had been several attempts to steal the information or even one of the Warlock Engineers themselves. However as the slavers found out, the Warlocks have killswitches embedded within their Skryre technology and when all else fails can detonate themselves. The explosions were compared to a horde of wildfire exploding it was so catastrophic. That had also led to Prince Ikit attacking Slaver's Bay in offense, and the smoke had cast the sunsets within Essos bloodred.
Yet such was the might of House Targaryen very few now wished to provoke them. Dragons and now their arcane science, the warprail, the Warlock Engineers, the great Doomsphere. However I was no closer to understand the Rat Prince despite my unmatched curiosity in him and how his mind was changing the entire landscape of the realm in a way never witnessed. Not even Aegon the Conqueror uniting the realm had done such spectacular change, in causing such a massive advance in technology.
Then Queen Rhaenyra died at the age of seventy four, after spending three years near bedridden yet barely parted from the bedside company of her sons, good-daughters, grandchildren or great-grandchildren. Prince Ikit, the Savage, the Mad, the Monstrous, the Rat Prince, remained close by her side especially as she sickened and faded from age. It had been the longest that he had stayed in Westeros since the Dance era. And then he remained for another year after his brother ascended the Iron Throne to become King Jacaerys, first of his name, with his wife Queen Baela by his side.
The day after Queen Rhaenyra's passing her son Aegon became the first recorded Targaryen to bond with a dragon after his first passed, claiming Syrax and flying her over King's Landing. Much tears were shed.
I believe I came closer to understanding as I lingered in the capital. As I walked through King's Landing, the city feeling alive with the ceaseless machines working day and night and the stoic bulbs and lights lighting the streets with flickering and capricious torches would be, I knew I must travel further to know the truth.
It is said the mind is ones greatest enemy, and I believe that was for me. Yet I could never forget the Dawn of the Second Sun and after King Jacaerys ascended peacefully, I was ever more curious. Prince Ikit had left back to Volantis and with him traveled two nieces, a nephew and Prince Viserys. Despite it all he still held loyalty for family and that was where he differed so immensely from Maegor the Cruel.
A man who killed two nephews yet a part of me believed even Prince Ikit the Mad would not do such a thing. A prince who killed his uncle, his aunt, destroyed one of the greatest and oldest buildings in all of Westeros, yet I think love is what anchored him most. What could love a creature like him? A mother of monsters, is who.
And so I managed to petition the king, seeking his permission to pursue his brother overseas. I could have done so without, but I felt with what I knew of Prince Ikit seeking his twin brother's approval would be paramount to success. And two weeks after, Prince Joffrey managed to find me in the city and lead me to the Red Keep personally to meet with the king, despite how busy King Jacaerys must be with slowly bringing Dorne into the fold. With letters and petitions but it would see Dorne had finally grown tired of being terrified of the Rat Prince and wished to be brought into Westeros, under the protection of the Iron Throne and thus away from the Rat Prince's stare. And, perhaps, they saw the more benevolent technologies and wished to join as well.
While speaking to me King Jacaerys warned me bluntly of his brother, and how many a man thought they could steal knowledge from him and all suffered the consequence. He seemed satisfied when I professed my earnest desire to simply learn more about him. Septon Barth had done much the same with King Jaehaerys and I wished to do so as well. So much suspicion, rumours and mad tales surrounded Prince Ikit and as I explained my origins in Oldtown and my own life, King Jacaerys understood.
He gave me his blessings and gave me a medallion which would inform his brother of my intentions. I studied it as I sailed from King's Landing to Pentos. My intent was to travel to Qohor, to first learn about what the people knew of Prince Ikit as it had been one of his first visits when he left Westeros decades ago. While on the journey I managed to read the High Valryian set upon the medallion, which was as big as my fist with a rat head carved in the middle.
I am an honoured emissary of the Rat Prince. Defy me and die.
Blunt and strict, just as the man himself was described.
I went from Pentos to Norvos and then Qohor while in the company of a merchant convoy. The people of Qohor were cold and inhospitable, and they all but threw me from the city when I asked about Prince Ikit. I feel however he wrangled the secrets of Valyrian steel from the smiths was done in an unkind manner. We left quickly and headed southward to where Volantis awaited us.
The Great Grass Sea lived well and true to its name. Hundreds of various grass species flourished across the vast plains, some so high they rose even taller than a grown man. Whenever we traveled over hills to see the immense landscape before us it undulated in the winds like the sea itself.
While traveling from Qohor to Volantis, my convoy was accosted by a Dothraki horde. They enveloped the wagons, screaming and wailing and brandishing their weapons. The bells within their long braids chimed like a musical court, yet none had more bells in their hair than their khal. A great man astride an immense black stallion, copper toned skin marred by numerous scars, and the longest braid of them all.
I did not speak their coarse tongue but one of the merchants did. He bade me to show my medallion to the horselords and we all watched as he inspected this. This man who would have been fighting from moment he had been born, living through countless battles and taking many more lives. Fierce, all Dothraki were. The horse lords of Essos, who brought about the Century of Blood.
And I saw this great khal with dozens of bells within his hair, flinch and grow ashen when he saw the medallion. The strange symbols carved into it, that rat head in the middle.
The horde then left us alone in a thunder of hooves, unwilling to provoke those under the protection of the Rat Prince. There were many stories of the prince's foray into Essos in his younger years and the great pillars of fire seen across the Great Grass Sea. It would seem Prince Ikit had kept that level of fear, that his token alone made an entire horde leave our small wagon party.
We continued on our way uncontested, even if at several points we were aware of the occasional scout. Keep an eye upon us no doubt, as we headed south to Volantis until we stopped at the city of Selhorys just as the sun set. Or town, even though it was bigger than King's Landing it was how the Essosi viewed it. Sandstone walls with shops and stalls and inns, with slaves and soldiers and workers everywhere. The main square in Selhorys had a great statue of a bipedal rat man, with huge twisting horns like a dragon which made me nervous to look at. All I could think of was green.
We intended to spend the night in Selhorys yet as we were heading through the square to go to one of the inns Prince Viserys found us. His pitch black dragon gleamed with multi-coloured chips of light when it landed in the courtyard from the lanterns and it was a far more bearable size than Silverwing.
Perhaps I should have been more alarmed when Prince Viserys greeted me by name. But I remembered the farsqueakers and of course King Jacaerys would remain in close contact with his brothers, even an entire sea away. The people of Selhorys greeted him with familiarity as well, so it would seem the influence of the Rat Prince was spreading further. We spoke in the inn, after I showed him the medallion and explained my curiosity. He seemed more amused than anything, and I felt as if his teeth were sharp like his dragon. A joke I was missing but yet I did not feel mocked.
And the following day I was taken to Volantis, upon dragonback.
I will not lie, I felt as if my heart would burst and I no doubt dug bruises into Prince Visery. The Targaryens may find join in soaring amongst the clouds with their dragons yet men like myself I would gladly never fly again. Yet we reached Volantis well and quick and Silverwing was seen some miles away. Gigantic, with many speculating she was now even larger than Balerion the Black Dread.
Yet she seemed to fade in the background as Morghul landed and Prince Viserys escorted me to where his brother was. Behind the black walls of Volantis, where the people could date their lineage back to Old Valryia itself.
There in the greatest of manses, a palace unto itself, I was finally able to meet Prince Ikit face-to-face after so many decades.
The first thing I noticed now that I could see him close and true was not his eyes, which were burning as brightly as lamps with flickers of green lightning, not his thick shaggy silver hair that framed his face like a lion's mane, not his awful beauty that was so incredibly reminiscence of the late Queen Rhaenyra, nor the sapphire-and-diamond studded Valryian armour he wore, or even the huge twisting machinery that seemed to coil about the room we were in.
Rather I noticed that unlike his brother King Jacaerys, Prince Ikit looked not older than thirty namedays. Only the barest hint of lines at the corner of his eyes, and scarring across the side of his face. Otherwise he looked even more youthful than Prince Viserys, even with his unnatural eyes and silver hair.
Rumours always dogged the second son, and bathing in blood was one of them. However now sitting before Prince Ikit, who looked like every type of witch king whispered about in stories, I was not so foolish as to say the rumours aloud.
So instead I told him plain; I wished to know about him, without the rumours and heresies and speculation. That I was born in Oldtown and had been a child when the Doomsphere detonated over the city, and it had followed me ever since.
I could tell the Rat Prince was amused by my words but to my relief he nodded and allowed me to bring forth my parchment and ink. And he told me to ask my questions.
I do not believe he thought I would first begin with the late Queen Rhaenyra.
It had been something I thought over well and hard in my years, studying the actions of Prince Ikit and the atrocities he committed. Yet his diligence when he returned to Westeros during the civil war and how he did not leave for years. And then when Rhaenyra's health failed how again he stayed for years. When beforehand he would spend the majority of his time in Essos, from the likes of Volantis to Stygai.
I spoke of her history, her growth, the Realm's Delight, the Princess of Dragonstone, until she became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet for all the insults her enemies had given to her, none could speak ill of her mothering. They would claim she birthed bastards, had torrid affairs, yet it was well known she had jumped between the Mad Queen Alicent when she came for her son with a blade.
I have read the recounts of the Red Keep and court, knowing of how the late Lord Vaemond had petitioned King Viserys decades ago to take his place as heir. Part of his argument was speaking of the atrocities Prince Ikit had committed, yet they had been isolated to Essos.
He had not brought them back to Westeros. There were whispers, shadows of it, bruises. Tumbleton, the Warlock Engineers. Yet here in Essos was where the Rat Prince had entrenched his vile impulses. And his brother followed him, a few curious niece and nephews came to him as well, second and third children and more freedom than most. They came to him and were sheltered under his protection, even if all reputation should insist otherwise.
His twin brother had ascended to King of the Seven Kingdoms and never feared usurpation, and had been given comfort when the queen passed. King Jacaerys's children would never fear usurpation by their uncle. If anything, I heard many stories in King's Landing that Prince Ikit had been well loved by his horde of nieces and nephews. Dragons were the most dangerous creatures in the world and they were the cherished House Targaryen companions. Prince Ikit seemed to be the same for the children of House Targaryen, the most dangerous of all but also the most fun.
Because he had been taught, cherished, raised proper and true to be given love, offer it, and receive it in turn.
For all the horrific acts he had done, for the Second Sun that destroyed half of Oldtown in an instant, I believe I finally understood.
We spoke long in the night, the prince answering me even if I made sure to not ask for his arcane secrets. But he spoke of his family when I asked. His brothers, even still speaking of Lucerys fondly decades after his death. His good-sisters who he seemed more ambient towards yet liked his niece and nephews. One of which he was training as an acolyte and another two who were rising quickly as priestesses. His brother Prince Viserys who acted as the Rat Prince's closest confident.
And Queen Rhaenyra. He spoke of her and I could hear it in his voice.
Having met him face-to-face I truly believe Prince Ikit is a monster. There is nothing more to debate about that.
He is the terrifying shadow of Old Valyria, the dragonriders that shattered a continent before the Doom swallowed them all. All that magic, that cruelty, the fire and blood. A dragon cloaked in human skin. Dragons are fire made flesh and fire is power. They are the remnants of the magic of Old Valyria and the Doom shattered it. Magic became shadows, wisps, flicker of smoke that linger after a bonfire has died out. The Targaryens were the sad remains of it, the dragons even moreso.
Yet Prince Ikit was all that terrible glory brought forth. Perhaps his birth had steeped in Valyrian blood for centuries after the Doom, with it all consolidated within him. Waiting to be unleashed upon us.
And then he was born to a woman, to Rhaenyra Targaryen.
Maegor the Cruel reborn some had whispered but after speaking to Prince Ikit I knew he would have made King Maegor seem like the most gentle of all rulers if only Queen Rhaenyra had been less diligent. If she had not raised her children the way she did, if she had been more like Queen Alicent.
Yet for the good of us all, she was not. The Realm's Delight had saved us all. Slowly, over the years, she had built up an impenetrable fortress against Prince Ikit. Stone by stone, year after year, a mother's love poured into the foundation.
I was born in Oldtown, where the Starry Sept was built. I lend my faith to the Seven and will continue until my last breath. The Father, the Warrior, the Smith, the Maiden, the Crone, the Stranger.
And of course the Mother.
'Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day. Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.'
The Mother's hymn, known to any and all who have read the Seven-pointed Star.
As I sat before this monster masquerading as a human, I know the greatest achievement Rhaenyra Targaryen achieved was not in becoming the first ruling queen Westeros had known. It was not in successfully defending her throne. It was not in winning the first civil war amongst dragons since the Doom centuries ago. It was not in becoming the second longest ruler since Old King Jaehaerys himself.
No, it was nothing as mundane as that. It was something so greater, from each corner of the earth.
It was in giving birth to Prince Ikit and loving him, well and true. And in turn having him take that love to heart and keep it.
Mother of Monsters.
Only then did I realize that this was, in fact, the most important title Queen Rhaenyra had ever held or ever would.
She had loved a monster, a beast wearing a human skin, and spared us all.
She had seen the acts her son had committed, no doubt she knew he was not right. She had other sons, one who were men. Not like Prince Ikit, who poorly mimicked the way a man would act. But for her, as a mother, it did not matter. The Rat Prince was born of her and she would love him regardless of what he was.
The Warlock Engineers, Order of the Skryre, the infernal weaponry, Silverwing, the Doomsphere, the warpstone magics, Prince Ikit himself. If he chose to unleash himself against Westeros absolutely nothing would stop him.
Yet he did not. He did not act as King Maegor, he chose to spare his family for the sole reason that he loves them as his mother loved him and taught him in turn. And his siblings taught Rhaenyra's lessons to their children, and they in turn loved their uncle despite his monstrous state. They continued to love him, and in doing so kept him at bay.
I spoke to Prince Ikit some more yet my thirst for knowledge ebbed and faded once I reached that dread revelation. And I knew him staying in Essos was him being kind to his twin, kind to his late mother, and their service upon the Iron Throne. Kind, to leave Westeros alone barring lingering touches while his main presence festered in Volantis and across Essos like a shadow cracking open souls.
So once our talks was done, I gathered my parchment and sincerely thanked the Rat Prince for his time.
Then I left Volantis, left Essos, back to Westeros and never to leave again.
I now knew the truth of Prince Ikit and, upon my return to Oldtown, I visited the Starry Sept and upon the Mother's altar I gave my heartfelt thanks to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. May her loving memory remain strong in the mind of her monstrous son, and keep him at bay.
I thank her for all the lives she saved, in loving a monster as only a true mother would.
'The Mother gives the gift of life and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife and she loves her little children.'
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