Rhaegar Targaryen

Dragonstone Manse, 400 years after the Doom

It was a day that was long awaited. Seventeen years before the proclamation had been made. By expectation, his children should've wed as soon as Rhaenys had first flowered at four and ten, yet both Elia and Lyanna had stated they should wait until they were older. Wait until they had lived with the Martell's as custom dictated before they married. Something which he had not considered but when it was spoken, found he agreed. Not that some other Valyrian's agreed with such a thing- given the not so secret rumblings of House Targaryen once again trying to divert from their roots and should not be in the position they were.

Did they have no shame? Did they forget their histories? If it weren't for his own House, the families would not be in the positions they were. His House had brought an end to the Volantene's grasp for power and cemented House Caeniar where they were- who had repaid them in kind by trying to uprise later only to be quelled once more after losing their last dragon. His House had brokered treaties with the Ghiscari cities to ensure they would never expand after the Freehold of Old fell. His House had warned the Vaelaleas' who whilst they did not believe Daenys' words they were unsettled enough to move from Valyria itself to Mantarys which had ensured their survival. His House had been the ones to finally get everyone to agree to meet in the Great Basilica to come to an agreement to end all the infighting. Making them forget old grievances with one another so they could start to rebuild what they had.

Invites had been sent far and wide. Dorne, the North, the Crownland's, the Summer Islands, and even as far as Sarnor. No one had come from the latter however a crate of rare spices had been sent from them as a thanks alongside a few trinkets for display. Rhaegar wasn't going to hold that against them, the Freehold was not what it once was- therefore they could not protect Sarnor as they had done centuries past. Yet friendly they remained, and so long as no animosity ever formed that was all that mattered. A servant walked into his room again then carrying a box filled with adornments that would be attached to his clothing.

His long hair had been partially braided back in typical Valyrian fashion and some strands were woven through beads carved from onyxes and rubies much alike the bells the Dothraki wore woven into their own braids. A black Volantene silk tunic hand stitched with various designs in blood red thread and in the centre a depiction of Shadow like he were rising from a pit of flames. Multiple jewels sewn into the garment too but they were so small they were only visible when moving and the light caught them. Coming down to his knees in a pleated fashion similar to some skirts women of the Kingdom's of Westeros wore and tight fitted trousers coloured black with knee high snakeskin boots with gold buckles which stood out massively. It was rare he dressed as formally as this, much preferring to wear looser fitting garments for comfort.

Alas, as Lord Freeholder of Dragonstone and father to the two who would bind in the flames in a matter of hours, he had to look impressive. The chains that were removed from the box were rarely worn due to their value- being made of solid gold. They had once belonged to his grandmother Lady Freeholder Shaera who had passed them to his mother who had then left them to him as it was unknown if Daenerys would survive into adulthood. Five other siblings he'd had, all of which had died young. He was seven when Shaena was born- said to have been born with scales and a tail if what the elders spoke were true. Daeron came two years later but he died before he was a year old from the shaking sickness that had wracked the islands in the Narrow Sea that year. Laena was next a few months later who didn't even breathe when she was pulled from his mother. Aegon came after that who perished in a tragic accident when he was only a year old, and lastly there was Jaehaerys who was born with weakened lungs and only lived to be a few days old.

A pin nicked his skin as the servant began to pin the chains in place from shoulder to elbow on either side, immediately feeling the weight of them and being pleased he would not need to wear them again for a few more months where his sister and second son would also bind in the flames. Jewellery was added afterwards and the last portion was a circular band to wear on his head. Many thought these to be crowns yet they were there so the headdresses worn for the ceremonies would be secure by clicking into place. A cape of a deep red being attached to his shoulders alongside Blackfyre being strapped to his hip as it was their ancestral sword. A single dagger being handed to him too that had passed from Lord Freeholder to Lord Freeholder going back more than seven hundred years. Made of Valyrian steel and blessed in the fires of the Fourteen by Valyrian pyromancers before the Doom. Some pyromancers had escaped with a handful of House's, yet no more were left. Some had taken up study to gather the knowledge they had written about, yet no one had succeeded as of yet. Finally, the heavy chains were added. Placed to loop around his neck to droop over his shoulders and linking to his sternum on buckles carved so delicately it was a wonder anyone could do such a thing. Yet his little brother had a talent for it, having picked up the hobby after their mother died in childbed as a means to cope with the loss.

The servant stepped away then so he could look at himself in the looking glass, wondering silently if this was the first time he had dressed so formally other than his own weddings. Mayhaps when Viserys and Maela had wed? The extravagance of it all was not something he enjoyed under any circumstance but the Freehold had to appear strong.

"Henujāgon kostā." (You can leave)

The command was heard and soon there were two sets of footsteps entering his room. Turning to see his wives already dressed for the occasion. Elia wearing a dress of scarlet red with a sash of burnt orange with gold chains looping down the bottom of the sash, with each loop having a gemstone dangling from it. Sleeves made of lace with designs of suns, spears, stars, flames, and dragons. Lyanna wearing much the same but a deeper shade of red similar to wine as it complimented her fair skin more, silver chains, and a pale gold sash. Elia reached over to take the headpiece as he bent down enough so she could place it atop and feeling it click onto the circlet he wore atop his head before cinching in a way it could not simply come loose.

"That headdress looks ridiculous."

Rhaegar couldn't refute Lyanna's words for they were true. The headdresses did look ridiculous. Elia's was much more subdued than his own was and looked like it had always been hers.

"Where are Viserys, Daenerys, Aemon, and Rhaella?"

He questioned, waiting on someone to answer. Since no one was nearby, there was no shame in him speaking the common tongue. It was something he had made apparent with both of his wives that he would happily speak it with them and would do so openly. Not many Valyrian's spoke the common tongue, and only a handful spoke it fluently. They were blood of the dragon, they were children of gods, they would not insult themselves with speaking a language that was not High Valyrian. Rhaegar had always been a learned boy, the priests that taught him always remarking on such a thing and had been pleased when he had asked to be taught the language. The lessons had inevitably come in useful when it was agreed for him to bind with Elia and later when he had bound with Lyanna as neither spoke High Valyrian before they married.

"Aemon and Viserys are with Aegon, Rhaella and Daenerys are with Rhaenys."

"How are Aegon and Rhaenys?"

"They're still not pleased- "

"Nor were either of you."

He retorted, watching as both rolled their eyes but he could tell it wasn't in annoyance.

"They are brother and sister, Rhaegar. You know outside of the families of the Freehold unions of such are a sin. We accept it, but we're not pleased by it."

It was a strange thought to him, because unions as such were always sought after in the families. It was how they kept the magic in their blood pure and it was the magic in their blood that allowed them to bond with dragons.

"At least Aegon will treat Rhaenys well. There is no one more protective than a brother over a sister."

Both snorted in response, having grown up with brothers and could attest to his words with experience. Even now, he recalled how Brandon and Oberyn had reacted when they had first met him. The talk trailed off after this. It being one of many differences between their cultures. The other families would never say the word out loud, but Elia by blood was mostly Rhoynar. They had gone to war with the Rhoynar people on multiple occasions, a fact that was never forgotten. The only reason an outcry did not occur over the match was solely because she did have Valyrian blood in her veins. Diluted Valyrian blood, but Valyrian blood all the same. They made their way into the main hall of the manse afterwards, watching Lyanna head to her brothers, goodsisters, nieces, and nephews to talk. Only noticing then her hair which was mostly left untouched besides a couple of braids at either side to keep it from covering her face was woven with dozens of rubies and when Elia turned around to look for her own brothers saw she had what appeared to be sunstones woven into her own hair.

"The carriages are ready to leave for the castle. Aegon and Rhaenys left a few minutes before to begin preparing and to ensure if Aemon is settled."

A grin came onto his face at these words. It had been a while since he'd last seen his elderly uncle as he could barely walk without being in agony in his advanced age. He'd once been a Triarch of Dragonstone yet when his elder siblings had died he revoked his titles and swore under the eyes of Baerax to devote himself to the wisdom. An order much alike Maester's in Westeros, yet not as constricting. Anyone of all ages or sex could join, and they were free to leave any time if they so wished with no consequences. Yet if the person did not renounce they were leaving, they were bound in the eyes of the Fourteen to remain such. Based in the Ānogrion of Dragonstone deep underneath the castle at the base of the Dragonmont which is where they would be heading for the blood vows. Afterwards, they would be moving to the Temple for the remaining vows and finally to the arena for the celebrations afterwards.

They all split now to enter the carriages. Riding through the perfectly straight roads of the city past shops, places of worship, homes, places of learning, and some open areas where children often played and adults would spend time alone.

"I'm surprised no one is flying on dragons."

Lord Brandon asked, only for Daenerys to respond.

"Dragons will play a part. Only when the sun sets and the moon begins to rise, dearest goodbrother."

Lord Brandon rolled his eyes at her words but no more words were spoken the remainder of the journey. Speaking of dragons, many were flying above them which they could see through the open roof of the carriage which clearly unsettled those not used to such a sight. He was used to it though, dragons had flown through the skies of the Freehold for thousands of years. The journey did not take long, a little more than an hour since the streets were mostly empty. Residents of the city heading towards the Dragonmont and the castle to witness them all entering yet they would not be permitted within. The blood oaths were for family and family only. Hence why none of the other families were with them and were instead heading directly for the Temple. Clearing his throat a little to catch everyone's attention and once he had.

"For those of you who have never witnessed a Valyrian wedding, there are things you must be aware of. You are already aware there are two stages. One where oaths are made in blood, and once where oaths are made openly which are sacred. The sacred oaths are known and are not hidden in any way, yet the blood oaths are never spoken aloud outside of the Ānogrion. Everything that happens within, will remain within, and you will be required to swear on the Testament of His Almighty before entering."

"What if we did speak anything, uncle?"

Jonathor asked, Aemon being the one to answer his cousin.

"To swear on the Testament of His Almighty is binding. Not in legality but in magic. If the oath is ever broken even if accidental, the person will die. It is not a nice death either, they will die slowly in agonising pain."

Sansa's eyes widened in horror as did the adults who had never known of this, yet he noticed Arya and Cregan leaned forward in interest as if trying to get more information before they entered. Slowly, they exited the carriage which had taken them directly outside the main entrance of the castle. Dragonstone castle was a dreary place. Made of black stone and made to look imposing and more of a fortress than a castle. It was no wonder those who lived here before the manse had been built wrote of how dull life was within the walls. Two elders stood at either side of the ornate doors.

"Nerny drāmmās, uēpyssys." (Open the door, elders)

The command was heard and the large doors were opened. The inside of the castle not being any more inviting than the outside. It was just as dark and dreary but at least there was some colour other than black to break it up a bit. Himself, Elia, and Lyanna leading them to the centre of the room as he reached for the knife that was always left out, noticing it had recently been cleaned confirming Aegon and Rhaenys were already within the Ānogrion. Pressing the blade to his palm and not needing to slice as it was so sharp just touching the blade broke skin. Cupping his hand until it was filled with blood and reaching over to drop it onto the locks that had been carved with ancient spells by pyromancers of the Freehold of Old when the castle was still being built. The moment his blood came into contact, there was a loud hissing noise as he stepped back, this was followed by a loud creaking which confused those who had never seen magic of such calibre before. The locks beginning to twist and turn until there was a resounding click and he reached over to push the wall which gave way.

"Incredible."

Someone muttered, but who it was he could not tell. One of the Northerner's given the thick Northern accent. The door was closed not long after which initially enveloped them in darkness until the dim glow of the already alight troughs broke through. The walls were carved with glyphs of ancient spells, ones that he could read but the thought of some of them terrified and disgusted him. Many may have been proud of their origins and everything they had achieved, yet Rhaegar did not think it was something to be celebrated. Blood sacrifices initially and when their greed wished for more animal sacrifices were made, and then their greed grew more and human sacrifices became a thing. Not to mention Gogossos, the sheer thought of what his ancestors had done there was unspeakable. Walking down the stairs that had never once deteriorated despite how many people had walked down here before. Their footsteps didn't even so much as make a noise as they finally reached the bottom and entered the centre of the Ānogrion.

Direct in the centre was a statue of Baerax with all his heads twisting up into the roof of the room. Not a single window and the only light in the room coming from the troughs which were constantly alight. Books and rolled parchments aligning the walls filled with their histories of the darkest forms of magic alongside simple fire magic. Whilst no one had been agreed upon to be a sorcerer for well over one hundred years, it was still an interesting topic. If one had a strong stomach that was. There was a large circle of a bench made of black stone surrounding the statue for them all to sit on as they took their positions. As Lord Freeholder, he sat directly opposite the entrance of the circle and his wives sat to either side to greet Aegon and Rhaenys when they entered.

Footsteps echoed now, already knowing it was elders entering alongside his elderly uncle. Not many people could say they had lived for a century, yet Aemon could do so. His bones were brittle and his eyes had betrayed him decades before but his mind reminded as sharp as Valyrian steel.

"Kekepa!" (Great uncle!)

Rhaella shouted when she saw him, her excitement causing him to grin.

"Ñuha byka, skorkydoso glaesā?" (My little, how are you?)

That was what Aemon always referred to her as- my little. Normally she hated being called names as such but from Aemon she loved it.

"Sȳz iksan!" (I'm well!)

The elder helped him sit down and he cringed a little at hearing an audible crack followed by a hiss of pain. Suddenly, the music began. A sombre tune of wooden flutes with songs of the Freehold of Old. A remembrance of what had once been and also as a reminder to never stoop to what they had in the past. Not a word was spoken as the door opened and Rhaenys walked in. Wearing the traditional robes of the blood vows. Elia being the first to stand up as she reached to press her hand to the statue and swear, everyone else in the room doing so too as the elders brought out tablets interwoven with ancient spells and reciting the words they had been taught the day prior. His eldest child stepping closer until she was also at the statue as she swore in the eyes of Baerax too. The fires in the troughs making the yellow and orange stones woven into her raven coloured hair shine brilliantly. Then his first wife unclipped her headdress and clipped it to the circlet Rhaenys wore who bowed lowly and took her position.

Aegon came not long after as he repeated the same process as Elia had with their eldest. Once done, an elder walked over carrying two shards of red dragonglass (which was the rarest kind and was used solely for making blood vows) for them to take. Noticing his son gulp but take the shard as they both pressed it into their palm and clutching one another's hands over the lit brazier one of the elders had lit. Watching as their blood mixed and dripped into the flames which began to grow and start to warm the room up.

"Ānogri leti. Hen Baeraks laehossa, mēre Rhaenys Āegōn kessi." (Let us bind the blood. In the eyes of Baerax, Rhaenys and Aegon will be one.)

Both of his children were looking to one another, patiently waiting on the next step. Slowly, the music from the wooden flutes came to a stop as himself and Elia stood behind both and clasped their shoulders to prevent either from backing out. The vow had not been fully made yet, but it had begun. To leave now would break the forming vow which would be an insult to the Fourteen. One had already been broken in the Freehold a few months prior when Rhaenyanne Velraenos broke her betrothal and wedding her brother Maevon instead. The act had heavily insulted the Dallaeron's and the Caeniar's alike through blood ties. Alas, that was something for another day. Today was a cause of celebration.

The elders were circling them now, chanting ancient spells under their breaths in Old Valyrian- what they had spoken before they had first found dragons. Aegon was the first to make a move by raising his free hand with the shard still in it to reach over towards Rhaenys' bottom lip and slowly slicing. A single stream of blood sliding down her chin and dripping onto the stone ground as she reached up with her own shard to do the same to his son. Once this was done, the shards were taken as they each took some of their own blood and traced symbols on one another's forehead. On Aegon was the glyph for fire, and on Rhaenys was the glyph for blood.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sȳndroti vāedroma. Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sīr. Izulī ampā perzī. Prūmī lanti sēteksi. Hen jenȳ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozūndesi. Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo. Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi." (Blood of two. Joined as one. Ghostly flame. And song of shadows. Two hearts as embers. Forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time. Of darkness and light.)

His children continued;

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sȳndroti vāedroma." (Blood of two. Joined as one.)

The flames grew higher and hotter now, yet he could not show weakness. The elders continued to chant before finally stopping and looking at the statue and bowing lowly. Loosening his grip on his sons shoulders as himself and Rhaenys let go of one another to reveal their hands smeared with the others blood. Two goblets were handed over now, watching his daughters nose scrunch up as this was without doubt the most unpleasant part of the blood oaths. Wondering what the others were thinking as they watched. Wholly expecting at least a handful to be a ghastly shade of grey currently. Both breathed deeply and raised their hands which were still bleeding over the goblets until there was enough blood for them to gulp. Each had a little honey at the bottom which was said to help disguise the taste but he knew from experience it did not. The goblets were swapped over the still alight brazier and without hesitation both gulped down the others blood. Surprisingly, neither initially gagged at the taste or the sheer thought of drinking someone else's blood. He recalled when he had bound with Elia how he'd had to force himself to gulp it down.

The goblets were removed now as the elders slowly began to spread out before leaving the circle. Both looking to one another so intensely he was sure he could carve a figure out of the forming tension. Waiting on who would be the first to act. Surprisingly, it was Rhaenys who done so. Stepping around the brazier, gripping Aegon's cheeks, and kissing him deeply. From the way Elia's eyebrow quirked, he knew he was not the only one surprised by such a thing, they had both expected Aegon to be the one to initiate this portion. He had a much bolder personality than his eldest child. Mayhaps a fire had finally been lit within his little sun and she would be more confident. A priest entered then, handing both a cloth to bind their bleeding hands in and reaching up with a damp cloth to clean their chins too. Once done, they were handed a small glass of visoros which both gulped down and only then did they gag from the strong drink. There would be no lingering taste of blood after that.

"I wish the goblets were not a part of the blood oaths."

Aegon spoke, his voice hoarse from the strength of the visoros.

"Alas, it is written- "

"In the Godly Flames. I know, father."

Elia laughed at their sons response as Lyanna joined them and brought Rhaenys in for a tight hug.

"You did well, little sun."

"It is done."

Elia spoke to the others in the room. Rhaegar looking up to take in their expressions which varied from interest, to disgust, and as expected, ghastly shades of grey over what they had just witnessed. Even other Valyrian's reacted similarly. He knew what to expect and somehow going through it himself with his own weddings had been much harder than expected. Many stood up now and began making their way into the centre of the room, spotting the Queen look at the snarling heads of Baerax worryingly.

"Skoro syt olvī ānogri īles, kepus?" (Why was there so much blood, uncle?)

There was something endearing about a Northern accent speaking High Valyrian. He'd found that out when himself, Aemon, and various elders had been teaching Lyanna the tongue. Kneeling down to look the young girl in the eyes as he answered her question.

"Valyri iksi, Alys. Ānogar vōskor īlot issa." (We are Valyrian, Alys. Blood is sacred to us.)

Her eyebrows creased a little at this and understanding she did not know exactly what he had said. Placing a hand on her shoulder and smiling towards her.

"To Valyrian's, blood is sacred. To us, to others, to the gods. We believe blood should be joined. Magic runs in our blood which is what allows us to bond with dragons as we do, much like magic in your own blood allows you to bond with direwolves."

It wasn't the same type of bond, a direwolf to a dragon, yet it was the simplest way to explain to someone of her age. Her mouth falling open confirming that she did now understand it. To everyone bar Valyrian's, the idea of siblings wedding one another was nothing short of sinful. In Rhoynar custom only cousin to cousin marriages were permitted but they were incredibly rare. Whereas in Northern custom, only if there were too many branches were incestuous marriages considered- even then the lesser the relation the better. From what Lyanna had told him and from his own readings, the closest relations to wed was half-uncle and half-niece.

"Your obsession with blood magic is strange."

Lord Brandon spoke as he walked over to gather his daughter and point her towards her mother as she ran off in that direction. Many would take his words to be offensive yet not him. After knowing the Stark's for as long as he had, he had come to greatly appreciate their blunt honesty.

"We should leave, the carriages will be waiting to take us to the Temple for the sacred oaths."

"Please say there is no more blood."

Both Lyanna and King Eddard chuckled at Sansa's words, seeing that she was still rather grey looking from what she had watched. His son had confirmed she was the gentlest of his Northern cousins, and he had warned his father there was a possibility of her not being able to keep her food down.

"There will be a little more but only a little more. There is a reason this is called the blood vow. It will not happen until the sun sets for the day."

She noticeably gulped at the words but nodded in agreement. Pleased that she at least knew what to expect with the sacred oaths. Despite their name, their traditions in said regard were not kept secret. Beginning to make their way out of the Ānogrion and swinging his arm around his elderly uncle to help him stand up. His youngest son helping on the other side too. They'd always been close to one another. Mayhaps it was due to their similar natures of wishing for simplicity in a world where simplicity was not common, mayhaps it was because he had named his youngest after his elderly uncle.

"What was that you were drinking that made them gag? I thought Valyrian's could handle their drink."

Lady Barbrey asked quizzically. She wasn't wrong with her words, his people did prefer stronger drinks to most places.

"It's visoros. It's made from fermented sourberries that are native to Elyria. According to Lyanna, it makes the strongest Northern ale taste like water in comparison."

"I'll be the judge of that- "

Brandon cut in only for his second wife to not so subtly kick him in the shin which caused him to have to suck his cheeks in to prevent himself from laughing at their interaction. The eldest brother screwing his face up in pain but having no choice but to ignore it as they began the climb back up into the castle and exiting outside to where the carriages were awaiting them. The streets were mostly empty closer to the Dragonmont which was expected as most residents of the city would be deep within the centre to reap the treasures of hundreds of visitors with their businesses and some stalls. More carriages began to appear but nowhere near as ornate confirming these were nobles not of the Eleven. Likely Archon's and Triarch's given the road they had joined their own came from.

Aelor Leranyon was the current Archon of Dragonstone. Their Triarch's being Gaemon Gontheon, Rhaemon Caentylyos, and Vaegon Belgaeron. All other than Rhaemon had been in families that spanned back hundreds of years. Lucerys Gontheon and Aemon Belgaeron had been slaves in the Freehold yet after their admirable tactics which aided the city after Aenar had moved their family to the island, they had been freed and offered a position they never would've had in the Freehold of Old. Rhaemon had only taken the position in the last year after his cousin Maeserys Naemeron choked on a fish bone in a pie leaving no heirs behind. The Temple was visible now, only a few more minutes before the carriages came to a halt as they entered the large building. His eldest two moving upstairs to remove their robes for clothing much more suitable for the sacred oaths as he led them towards the back which opened into a gardened area that was not accessible from outside the Temple. Sansa smiling wide as she ran towards her friend Jeyne in the crowd.

Dragons were above as was expected. Some snapping at one another both playfully and genuinely, some seemed to be racing one another, some of the older ones were showing off to the others by diving and spinning. Noticing Maerenox tug on the tail of Taerax for a moment only for the two to be split by the bright golden coloured dragon Āeksion. Out of all the breeds, none compared to the Dallaeron's as far as beauty went. Always solid in colour yet their scales were not what determined their colours. Their scales being clear with a slight iridescence and their skin being what was coloured. This combination created an effect where they literally looked like glittering gemstones whenever the light bounced off them. Daenerys split off then with the Martell's, Stark's and Ryswell's to begin introducing them to everyone and deciding to stay back to watch the interactions.

Many were courteous, there was no denying such a thing. Yet the few who visibly crinkled their noses when they were not looking almost made him rage. It also not missing his gaze that those who were doing so were Eastern Valyrian. Four families came under the term, and only one of the four were not wholly for how the Freehold of Old had been run. There were the Dallaeron's of Elyria, the Vaelaleas' of Mantarys, the Caeniar's of Volantis, and the Velraenos' of Myr. At least this time they had agreed to his singular request to not bring any of their slaves to Dragonstone with them for the last thing Rhaegar wished to see was how they were treated. If the slave came from the cities themselves, they were marked by having designs carved into their skin and when they would start to heal they would be carved open again. The end result being raised portions- some were even known to brush lemon juice into the forming scars so they would be even more raised. If the slave did not come from one of the cities, they were simply tattooed. However, the Caeniar's took it to another level of cruelty by having their slaves wear patterns which dictated the type of slave they were; house slave, bed slave, work slave, and many others. The Easterners were also known to cut the tongues of their slaves out so they could not speak. Speaking of the Caeniar's, he spotted one of the triplets speaking to King Eddard who looked rather confused- knowing which triplet it was.

Baemala was not alike many nobles from Volantis. Much like himself, she'd been a learned child, and had bothered the elders of the Caeniar manse until her mother had enough and agreed for her to be taught what she was asking to be taught. Speaking four different tongues and was not shy to use common openly which she was using now given the ease of the conversation that was flowing. Two people appeared then, turning to see his eldest children who no longer wore their robes. Aegon was dressed much like he himself was, and Rhaenys was wearing a gown of a deep violet which made the deep red stain on her chest stand out more. Aemon was pointing to the names carved into the farthest away wall to Arya, Alys, Jonathor, and Cregan. Anyone of their family who had done something truly great, they were honoured in ways others were not. The place where they died always had a statue carved of something they held dear to see them into the Embers. To date, seven members of their House had been given the honours.

"The sacred vow will be held soon."

He nodded a little at Oberyn's words, not even noticing when he had come over his way. Eyeing his many daughters speaking with the others and having to hide his surprise at little Elia with Aerea Caeniar. Although, now he thought on it, not so surprising. Baemala had been raising her daughter to not be so rigid in her beliefs. Taecegon hadn't been pleased by it, and yet everyone knew that he could never say no to his wife. Being a rare case where the marriage hadn't solely been duty. In fact, their mother Rhaelle Naeron who was of one of the noble families of Volantis, was adamant they were meant for one another. Monford Velaryon walked over then, with a small glass of visoros and sipping at it so as not to struggle with the intensity. They'd always been close with one another. They were of a similar age, and Driftmark was only a few days away by ship and a matter of hours away on dragonback.

"I see Aegon is not pleased, Rhaegar."

"Nay, he is not. Nor is Rhaenys. Yet they will do their duty."

There was no shame in them speaking common with one another. They were heavily intertwined with the Kingdom's of Westeros in trade and relations.

"I also see a specific...family are nowhere to be seen."

Immediately, he knew what his cousin a few times removed was referring to.

"No Baratheon will ever set foot on Dragonstone again."

"Not even Shireen? Or Renly? One wasn't even born and the other was still a babe."

His eyes narrowed towards him because as much as he detested it, the words were true.

"Mayhaps not Shireen or Renly. Renly was only a little boy when it happened. In fact, my mother even said when she was still carrying Daenerys she would have considered a match for them if the babe was a girl. Whereas Shireen like you said wasn't even born yet. Whilst I know Stannis only agreed out of duty, he still agreed to it, and he spurned the gods. Because of he and Robert myself, Viserys, and Daenerys were robbed of our father. That is something I can never forgive. They broke the bond, and you know we value nothing above a bond."

"I understand the pain. I lost mine own father in that war as did Aurane. Not only did I lose my father, I lost my wife. I know by tradition I should've wed her sister Maerelle, but I cannot bring myself to do so. I would like to suggest a match between a child of Viserys and Maela's to a child of Maerelle's when the time comes."

Ah, so he had spotted it too. Not many had yet he had watched both Maela and Viserys grow up. He knew them too well not to notice the subtle differences they had been displaying. For someone who was as bold as Maela, it was surprising she was remaining as quiet as she was. There was a reason she'd been given the name 'One with the Sea'. If she had lives at the same time as the Sea Snake, there was no doubt there would be a squabble on who was the better adventurer of the pair. She'd taken command of a ship at the age of twelve, telling them she was only going to travel to Surestone- the Northernmost island of the Stepstones. Instead, she had turned north to Lorath as she had wished to see the mazes the city was known for. Monford had been furious when he had found out what his daughter had done but Aurane had found it highly amusing.

"If the babe is anything like her mother, your hands will be full."

As expected, Monford did not take his jab without fighting back.

"You're one to talk with your youngest daughter. She may be one of us but there is no denying she is a wolf too. Her fangs are already sharp and I fear how much sharper they will grow."

By now, food had been brought out along tables at either side of the courtyard as it steadily got darker. When the sun began to dip below the horizon it would be time. Portions of the ground were inlay with mosaic and depicted battles long forgotten. Jaenys Celtigar and Maemond Vaelaleas were in their own little world in the corner under the shade of a willow with Saemaera nearby. Maemond and Saemaera had wed for duty as was expected, yet they were both known to be fond of Jaenys who was not wed. It would not be surprising if she became a second wife to Maemond. Viserys was stood with Aeralon Celtigar and Vyserya Rhaentheon. From the smiles on their faces, they had been made aware of the news. Vyserya and Aeressa were cousins after all and they'd been raised as siblings. Saera Tarennis was chasing Rhaella alongside Bran, Cregan, and Arya. Something that warmed him greatly to see them getting along so well. Raerion Mellarys had his youngest son on his shoulders, chuckling deeply at seeing him pointing to everyone and naming them aloud.

Everyone moved to the tables now and eyeing the meal that was on display. Roasted pork in honey and spices, with the skin so crispy he pondered for a moment if it was burnt. An array of fish freshly caught off the shores of Dragonstone. Various rice options to choose from. Candied locusts from Elyria which were tastier than they looked, breads filled and topped with anything and everything. Since the families were rarely together the few times they did meet up, there was no expense spared. It did not miss his gaze the Northerners were shocked by the display. Brandon's plate being piled high with roasted grouse dripping in onion gravy. In the North, food was a necessity, not a want. They didn't have many options due to the harsh climate, so this to them likely did seem like a massive waste. By the time they'd all had their fill, it was much darker. Waiting on one of the elders to cry out that the sun was beginning to dip into its nightly slumber. The clouds and sky turning various shades of pink and orange. Soon, the call came and he stood up and clapped his hands loudly which echoed around the courtyard. Raising his glass and looking to the sky whilst feeling for Shadow. The black and grey dragon appearing overhead a moment later and landing on one of the towers of the Temple.

"Ñuha trēsy talā anogri grozille issi, pōntāla udir letsi!" (My son and daughter are bound in blood, let us bind them in word!)

The drums started then, initially low but slowly building as his eldest children met one another in the centre. Wooden flutes, harps, and whistles joining in with a tune that was only played at Targaryen weddings. Every family had their own, and no one else could ever use them. A pyromancer walked out then- not a true one as there weren't any left- lighting the elegant interwoven wooden archway until the entire thing was alight. Rhaenys and Aegon stepping inside the arch and noticeably wince from the heat. Taking the others hands as an elder walked out to tie their hands together in a deep red cloth.

"Aōhys Ēglives Baeraks! Rhaenys Targārien Āegōn Targārien jurnegon dīniliks!" (Your Almighty Baerax! Look as Rhaenys Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen are married!)

"Why are the urns out?"

He heard Sansa speak from three people away.

"Watch."

His son answered as the lids of the urns were opened and the pyromancer scooped a portion out of each.

"Are they scooping from them? Surely that's not- "

"Watch, Sansa."

She quietened down and did as his son asked of her. Each scoop being thrown at the archway as the others pressed themselves as close to the walls as possible for they knew what was coming. It was an unsettling thing- interesting, yet unsettling. Once the final scoop was made, the flames for a moment turned a deep shade of red before turning back to orange. He felt it before he saw it, the coolness as they formed. It looked like mist initially, yet it formed together and eventually bore a striking human resemblance. Not just any human resemblance though. Every Targaryen who had been cremated at deaths ashes were collected so they could always witness the future of their House. Feeling a hand on his shoulder and turning to see a face he knew well. His grandfather Jaehaerys. Those who had not expected this had widened their eyes and Arya was visibly gawking at the many long dead Targaryen's.

"Drakarys!" (Dragonfire!)

The dragons obeyed as forty jets of flame ranging from small amounts of young dragons still considered hatchlings to the adults with jets that could range more than twenty feet. Various colours in the flames too and lighting the troughs on the walls of the courtyard of the Temple. Elders chanting Old Valyrian and wishing their spells would be heard which would prevent anyone from leaving the courtyard. This was the most sacred part of the binding. Everyone joining their hands as they chanted words from a language they no longer spoke, watching as the flames rose higher and grew hotter as the dragons danced above them. Magic was alight in the courtyard, everyone could feel it. More cloth was wrapped around his children's arms this time and bringing them closer to one another until their chests were pressed together. Both bowing their heads and touching their foreheads together and speaking rapidly even if he could not hear their words.

"Ojehiksi!" (Bless us!)

Rhaenys shouted, confirming the oaths had been made. All raising their left palms as high as they could as shards of dragonglass were handed out. Everyone taking a shard apart from those younger than sixteen as they were too young to partake in such a thing. The flames had grown so high now it looked like they were touching the clouds. Being the only source of light there was in the courtyard now.

"Ojehiki!" (You are blessed!)

They all called back. In a single movement, all sliced into their palms and allowed their blood to drop onto the ground whether that be grass or mosaic tiles. The moment their blood touched the ground the power that emanated from such seemed to erupt like the Dragonmont. His body felt like it was tingling from the surge rushing through him. Exactly fourteen drops from each person.

And then it was all over. The magic disappeared alongside the height of the flames to be nought but just enough to heat the area. The dragons roared as one which sounded remarkably like the Dragonmont itself when it leaked molten rock before flying elsewhere on the island. Servants appeared with cloths to clean and bind their palms so no more blood would be used. Blood magic was something that should never be expanded on, for it was incredibly easy for the power to become uncontrollable and to cause irreparable damage. Hearing a few people beginning to shout and turning his head to see his sister being pulled away by Aemon from Daeron Dallaeron who was similarly having his arm tugged away by Nesaemera. Walking over and hearing his sister ranting under her breath on how there were no slaves on Dragonstone and the slave would not be tolerated. Frowning a little but Aemon answered by confirming they had brought one despite being told not to do so. Rage building within him as he made himself known.

"Ȳdrās." (Speak.)

Daeron shot him a look of complete insult, still fighting against his wife who was trying to pull him away. This caught the attention of Jelaerya who made her way towards her sister and son and eyeing him oddly as to why he was angry.

"Dohaeriros ryptios daor." (The slave did not listen.)

Jelaerya immediately understood as she glared towards her son.

"Zaldrīzesdōron dohaerirossa emos daor, Daeros." (Dragonstone does not have slaves, Daeron.)

The younger opened his mouth to retort only to be cut off by his mother.

"Aōhys ēngos urnēbās, ñuhus trēsys!" (Watch your tongue, my son!)

It was not lost on him many were now looking their way and wondering what was happening. His sister calming down enough to come over and repeat what had happened. She had saw Daeron order a slave that had been disguised as a servant and when the servant stalled for a moment he had shoved her and spat on her face. When the slave had reached out to wipe the spit from her cheek, Daenerys had saw the tattoo and immediately knew. Jacaerys Dallaeron was visible now, looking to and from Rhaegar to his wife and to his son. Breathing deeply before speaking.

"Zaldrīzesdōrot lentot ȳdrēlzi, Jakaerys Jelaeryūs." (We will be speaking at Dragonstone manse, Jacaerys and Jelaerya.)

For a moment neither seemed to hear him. Soon though, both nodded and broke Daeron and Nesaemera apart as both wandered off, the younger Dallaeron shooting him a glare of disgust in the process. Closing his eyes as he heard them walk away and wishing no more issues would arise even if it was surprising it had taken this long for anything to occur given their vast differences in basic beliefs. Alas, he spoke too soon as a loud yelp which he knew well alongside a few screams caused him to snap his head around. Spotting Malaelar Caeniar having Daeron in a tight grip and pulling him away as Jelaerya looked on horrified over whatever had just happened. Walking over to see what it was and soon he saw, stepping back in shock.

"Daenerys?"

He asked, looking as her clothing was clearly alight and were slowly burning away. Violet eyes wide in shock too as she looked around her and panic setting in that she was inside one of the many fires still alight within the courtyard. Raising her hand and twiddling her fingers in wonder before shakily standing up. How? It was a question that was likely in all of their heads currently. Wracking his brain for anything he had ever read of someone being completely unaffected by open fire like this but finding nothing. Turning and looking to his uncle in fear.