chapter five,
acts of violence — 127 AC

Athens Strong could not sleep. Which, to be fair, was not a rare occurrence for him. Driftmark, in comparison to Harrenhal, was much more... silent. Instead of distant whispers he heard the crashing of waves against the shoreline, screeches of the dragons that slumbered peacefully outside. The only beasts at Harrenhal were the demons that haunted him. The visions and dreams that kept him up at night.

He didn't know why he was here. He just was. Harrenhal was to be his, but he did not want it. What was once a home was now a memoir to the dead, the stones blackened, once again, by a great fire. His father was dead and as was his brother, leaving him with Larys. And Alys, but he could not trust the witch as far as he could throw her.

But, when he heard the loud and high pitched wails of what sounded like children fighting, he could not stop himself from second guessing his own mind. So many years spent in a ghostly castle made him question what was actually real. Which was why it took him so long to reach the ongoing brawl, his steps starting out slow, then hastily quickening once he caught wind of metal slicing into skin.

Athens made way into the tunnel, his hand clasped around the hilt of his sword. The little lords and princesses were out of their beds, each of them covered in blood. The approach of guards entering the space caused him to step to the side, his attentive eyes taking in every detail.

He spotted Valyria first, her silver hair stained with crimson, much like her small hands which were pressed up against the sides of Aemond Targaryens bleeding face. She was trying to stop it, but to no avail— the thick red slipping through her fingers and pooling into the sand below. From what Athens could see, the boys eye had been closed for good.

And the young Lucerys Velaryon held the blade.

Jacaerys stood next to his little brother, with Baela and Rhaena tucked to their sides.

Harrold Westerling, the Commander of the Kingsguard, rushed forward, pushing through the bodies of his men and past the children that were huddled together. He gently pulled Valyria back by her arm, kneeling down to aid the wailing prince who moved to grasp his throbbing eye.

The princess staggered back, looking down to her hands, marred with blood.

Athens stepped closer, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her to him. Her nose was crooked, the bone curved at an odd angle with crimson dripping down her features, over her lips and onto the white nightgown she wore. There was also a scattering of cuts across her skin, right on her nose. Her hair lay stuck to the sides of her face from the blood, the silver strands becoming darkened with the liquid.

"Let me see, my prince. Let me see." The Commander spoke, his heavy gloves steadying the thrashing body of Aemond from where he lay. "Gods be good." Harrold muttered pitifully at the sight, the eye beyond saving.

But the broken nosed princess did not look worried. Or scared, even. Instead, it seemed as if a puzzle inside of her mind had finally come together. Her violet eyes met Athens, hand wiping at the blood on her chin. "I've seen him." She whispered softly. "He will be content. But only for a moment. Then he will flee."

His brows furrowed, he will be content? She has seen him?

There was no such time for questioning the words that fell from her lips, Athens could only assume Valyria herself did not know what she was saying. Her nose had been broken, after all. Perhaps her mind had scattered with the blow. The guards ushered her out of the tunnel with the other children, back through the halls of Driftmark until they reached the Velaryon throne room. He silently followed.

It took several minutes for Valyria to gather her thoughts once she was sat down, the Grand Maester tending to the more grievous wound of the bunch first. She had never broken a bone before, she thought, blood stained fingers trailing up to trace the crooked bridge of her nose.

Helaena, who had been awakened by the guards, along with the rest of the family, gently slapped Valyria's hand away from her face— stopping her in her tracks. Aegon stood on the other side of her chair, crouching down to look at the princesses newfound look. He held onto the armrest for support, still a little inebriated from the amount of wine he had gulped down at the funeral.

"It doesn't look horrible." Aegon assured, patting the top of her head with a hiccup. "I could snap it back into place if you'd like." He added as a whisper, leaning closer to her.

Valyria curved her head to the side, avoiding the stench of Red Arbor that drifted her way, his hand falling down her back. The prince only huffed, clambering back to his feet, still using the chair to balance himself. She sat quietly, picking at the bloodstains on her nightgown, doing her best to ignore the throbbing pain of her nose. Her father was nowhere to be found.

Aemond sat across from them, the Grand Maester kneeled down before him with Alicent close by his side.

"How could you allow such a thing to happen?" The King questioned, his eyes settled upon Harrold Westerling and Criston Cole. The Commander and his knight. No guards were stationed around their chambers or in the halls, at least not as far as Valyria could remember. And it was Cole who was put in charge of the Kingsguard after Viserys took to bed for the evening. "I will have answers." He added.

"The princes and princess were supposed to be abed, My King." The Lord Commander spoke in return, his hands clasped together behind his back.

Athens stood by the crackling hearth, his elbow braced against the stone fireplace. He was quiet, observing everyone in the room. Otto Hightower was in the corner, hiding amongst the shadows, doing the same as he.

Viserys eyed the Commander, "Who had the watch?"

A silence fell. Until Ser Criston picked it up. "The young Prince was attacked by his own cousins, your Grace. The princess attempted to aid him and in return was wounded." He deflected the conversation from his own misdoings, using the fight between children as a shield.

"You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!" The King yelled, slamming the cane that supported him against the stone floors. It echoed across the throne room, snapping at each pair of listening ears.

Talya, one of the Queens many handmaidens, kneeled down before Valyria— smiling softly at the girl as she cupped her chin carefully and began cleaning the blood. The nosebleed had yet to stop, but the incessant dripping had slowed. The princess glanced over to Jacaerys, who met her eyes with a sympathetic look. He didn't mean to hurt her, she knew this.

She wondered if the history books would say the same.

"I'm very sorry, Your Grace." Westerling bowed his head in an apologetic manner, voice laced with sorrow.

"The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes, Your-"

"That is no answer!" Viserys bellowed in the face of Criston, cutting him off before he could speak his sentence.

Tayla finished wiping her down, Valyria giving her a grateful look as the handmaiden retreated— her eyes falling to Aemond. She had to breathe out of her mouth now, the broken bone of her nose blocking off a majority of her ability to receive oxygen. The blood still dripped, ever so slowly onto her dress.

"It will heal, will it not, Maester?" The Queen asked, kneeled down beside her son.

"The flesh will heal." Grand Maester Mellos answered, applying one of the final stitches across Aemond's swollen face. "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Alicent breathed deeply, standing to her feet and making her way over to Aegon. "Where were you?" She seethed, closing in, right against his chest.

"Me?" Aegon retorted, his voice lined with confusion.

Valyria looked over as the Queen raised her palm and struck her son across the face, the sound resonating throughout the throne room. Helaena flinched for her brother, as did the bleeding girl who sat next to her. "What was that for?" The prince raised his arms, instinctively blocking his face from her reach.

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool." Alicent sneered, her finger jabbing into his chest with each word.

The upstairs doors burst open, the hinges creaking as wood smacked against stone, followed by the loud voice of the Sea Snake. "What is the meaning of this?" Corlys Velaryon questioned, entering down the stairs into his throne room with the Princess Rhaenys in tow.

Aegon took the chance to step behind Valyria's chair, holding onto the frame as he slipped away from his mother.

"Baela, Rhaena!" The Queen who Never Was gasped at the sight of her two granddaughters, their faces bruised and splattered with crimson. She rushed towards them, hastily looking them over with attentive eyes. "What happened?"

Valyria watched them, her heart aching in her chest.

The doors behind her opened next, the worried face of Rhaenyra pushing through and stepping into the room. "Jace?" She questioned, spotting her sons, wasting no time in hurrying to their sides. Daemon Targaryen lingered in the entrance, his stare falling to each of his bloodied daughters.

"Who did this?" Rhaenyra questioned, looking back towards her father, catching the sight of Valyria across the way, who sat with a broken nose. Her brows furrowed in confusion, noting the distance between the princess and her sons.

"They attacked me!" Aemond yelled in defense, twisting in his chair.

"He attacked Baela!" Jacaerys retorted, his arms wrapped around his brothers shoulders.

"You broke Valyria's nose!"

"You broke Luke's!"

The accusations continued to be shouted between the bruised children, their voices pitched— digging deep into the pounding headache that accompanied Valyria. She uncomfortably squirmed in her seat, clasping her hands over her ears, feeling the swollen skin of her top lip, blood dripping down her pale skin.

Daemon only watched, his signature smirk curled around his lips as he leaned against the door. He enjoyed the arguing. The never ending battle between his own blood. Athens glanced at the father, Laena had just been put to rest, now his three daughters were crimson coated. Yet he smiled. The man intrigued him greatly.

Helaena was the only one to reach out, gently squeezing Valyria's shoulder.

"Silence!" The King ordered after several failed attempts, his voice rising above all others— quietening them to a hush. "Valyria." He spoke, his cane smacking against the stone floor as he made his way over to her side. She followed him with her violet eyes, her hands falling to her lap.

"I will have the truth of what happened. Your words have always rang true, have they not?" He insisted, raising an expectant brow, steadying himself with the wooden cane.

It was no lie. She had proven herself to the King time and time again, earning her the title of cupbearer in his small council at the age of eleven. To anyone, that would be nothing. But she was obedient, quiet. She listened. There, in the last two years, she learned more than he ever expected.

Alicent looked to her husband, an almost panicked expression coating her features, "What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident." Rhaenyra defended, hands clasped over her stomach.

The Queen scoffed, "Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son. Is this what you teach your children? To maim? He did not falter to strike to princess, need I remind you."

"It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves." Rhaenyra was quick to retort, "Vile insults were levied against them."

Viserys turned away from Valyria, who let go of the breath she was holding in— a weight lifted off her shoulders. Thank the Gods, she did not have to be the one to say it. She remembered what Aemond had said, the single word that cost him his eye.

"What insults?" The King inquired, facing his daughter.

His heir fiddled with her sleeves, "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly the question."

"What?"

"He called us bastards." Jacaerys spoke true, standing behind his mother.

Athens shifted on his feet, taking in all of the uncomfortable reactions around him. It seemed the Queen let out a breath, like a sudden relief. The Hand of the King stepped closer, eager to hear what was next said as Viserys sighed deeply. Lord Corlys simply looked to his grandchildren, Rhaeneys remaining silent behind him. They both knew the truth.

Valyria began twisting the rings on her fingers.

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders." Rhaenyra knew what she was saying, she knew what she wanted to hear. The truth. That the Queen herself had been the one poisoning her image.

Banners of green, banners of black. Marching separately, the looming shadows of dragons flying up above. She could hear their distant screeches, the clinging sounds of metal against metal. The crack of leathern wings. There was salt in the air, she remembered. The scent of the sea. The Gullet.

The head of the king for the Throne of Men.

Valyria clasped her hands together, flashes of burning ships searing into her mind. Broken wings.

"Over an insult?" Alicent scoffed, her voice an echo in the back of the princesses mind. "My son has lost an eye."

The King stepped over to Aemond, leaning forward against his cane. "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster." His wife attempted to diffuse the interrogation, the inquires that would only lead to her name being spoken. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

"Aemond." Viserys only continued, making his son look to him. "I asked you a question." He insisted, the stern tone of his voice causing Valyria to continue twisting the rings on her fingers.

Alicent sighed, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?" The King straightened his back, hand gripping the wooden handle of his cane as he looked around the crowded throne room.

Rhaenyra held her sons to her, "I do not know, Your Grace. I... could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk." she spoke, the lie sweet on her tongue. Valyria could see it, the way she adjusted the sleeves of her dress, shifting in her step. When she entered, Daemon was right behind her.

Athens glanced at the father, the ghost of a smile still tucked around his lips.

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture." Alicent pressed, paying no mind to the presence of Laenors parents. Gods, they were in their home. A smirk laced around the lips of Criston Cole at the comment, but with one look from Harrold Westerling it was wiped away.

"Aemond." Viserys turned back to his son, his cane scrapping against the stone tiles. "Look at me." He ordered. Aemond hesitated, at first, then his single eye reluctantly raised to meet his father. "Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?" He questioned, once more.

A silence befell the tense throne room, the boy looked to his mother, whose breath hitched in her throat. Rhaenyra watched Alicent, following her like a predator with its prey. Viserys turned, his eyes settling upon his wife, then back to his son. Valyria thought for a second that he understood. Just for a second.

"It was Aegon."

The prince, who had taken shelter behind Valyria, tightened his hands around the wooden frame of her chair. "Me?" He asked, his voice quiet.

Viserys turned his attention to Aegon, Valyria subconsciously shifting in her spot as he drew closer. "And you, boy?" He begins, standing beside of his son. "Where did you hear such calumnies?"

He said nothing. His body as still as stone. "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!" The King roared, the boy flinching at his loud tone. His father never talked to him, never paid him any mind. Only now, when it came to Rhaenyra.

The blood finally stopped dripping. Valyria looked down to her clasped hands, twisting the crimson stained rings. She was starting to forget that her nose was even broken, the pain becoming background noise to the chaos of her life.

"We know, Father. Everyone knows." Aegon finally spoke, his violet eyes falling to the dark haired sons of the princess. "Just look at them."

A weight was lifted. Another would soon replace it.

Athens was still where he stood by the roaring fireplace, silent and valiant. He would remain so, taking in each detail on display before him.

"This interminable infighting must cease!" Viserys yelled, slamming his cane against the stone floor. "All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another." He demands, moving to the center of the room. "Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!"

He continued, stepping past his wife, who had tears welled in her eyes. Valyria felt as if she would suffocate, thoughts and flashes of war tearing through her mind at a relentless pace. She could not escape it, her hands instinctively tightening around the cushion of the chair she sat in.

"That is insufficient." Alicent's voice wavered, causing Viserys to turn in his steps, footfall slowing. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. The princesses nose is shattered. 'Good will' cannot make them whole."

It was folly. To compare a broken bone to an eye forever lost. But anything to plead her case would suffice.

He sighed deeply, "I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it has been taken."

"What would you have me do?" Viserys inquired exasperatingly, throwing his arm out while leaning forward on his cane.

"There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son's eyes in return." The Queen demanded, soft mutters scattering across the room at her request.

Valyria lifted her head, looking over at Rhaenyra's boys who moved to hide behind their mother. An eye for an eye. A head for a throne. The never ending cycle of barbarity, the dragons that continue chewing at their own tail. The ouroburos.

The King stepped forward. "My dear wife."

"He is your son, Viserys. Your blood." Alicent cried, pleading. Pleading for cruelty of another child.

"Do not allow your temper to guide your judgement." Her husband warned, his testing stare looking her up and down.

This did not phase her. "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will." She informed, attention falling to her shield. "Ser Criston... bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother!" The young Luke cried out, terror ridden in his voice as Rhaenyra hastily wrapped her arms around him. Corlys stepped forward, moving closer to boy that would one day inherit Driftmark. If the Gods allowed it to be.

Inching to the side, Athens hand fell to rest on the hilt of his blade— tracing the moving figures, eventually landing upon the sight of Criston Cole. Who held the same stance as he.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son." Alicent reminded, her voice sharp.

"You will do no such thing." Rhaenyra snapped from across the room.

"Stay your hand." The King ordered, looking to the knight.

Alicent stepped forward, "No, you are sworn to me!" She yelled, motioning with her hand.

Valyria wished the looming darkness over their heads would swallow her up whole, wiping at the blood that coated her lips. Alicent was the Queen, that was true. But her voice was nothing more than white noise to a room of men.

"As your protector, my Queen." Criston spoke, avoiding her stare, uncomfortably shifting in his spot.

"Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?" Viserys questioned, growing closer to his wife with every word. She watched him, head numbly shaking as he turned to walk away, retreating, a sight she'd grown familiar with.

"And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed." The King raised his voice to be heard by all, words sharply directed towards his young Queen.

The heir looked up from where she stood, "Thank you, Father."

Valyria saw it before it happened. She closed her eyes, a flash of a blade reflecting against the orange flames of fire— tearing through the arm of the princess.

A gasp fell from her lips, standing from the chair, right before Alicent unsheathed the Valyrian dagger from the Kings side. Valyria stepped back, small body bumping into the chest of Aegon who caught her with his palm. Athens saw this, his stare hastily switching between the girl and the Queen, who took the dragon bone hilt into her grasp.

"Stay with the King!" The Lord Commander ordered, Viserys futilely shouting after Alicent as she charged towards Rhaenyra.

"Hold your approach!" Criston yelled over the screams of Lucerys, who cowered into the arms of Corlys Velayron. His mother did not falter, Rhaenyra hastily stepping forward to catch Alicent's raised arms— stopping her in her tracks, the blade wavering inches away from her eye.

Valyria felt her heart race in her chest, she knew how this would end. She knew how this would end. How long would her mind torment her with events that have yet to happen? Things she could not prevent?

"Do not, Ser Criston!"

"Alicent!" Viserys roared, the voice of the King doing nothing. Athens stepped in front of the young prince and princesses— Helaena placing herself behind his tall frame, while Aegon remained in his spot next to Valyria, watching.

It was then when Daemon Targaryen decided to move from his place, only to be stopped by a smug Criston Cole, the knight shoving him back.

"You've gone too far." Rhaenyra cried out, holding the trashing body of Alicent back.

"I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please!" Alicent yelled, voice cracking.

"Alicent, let her go!" The King yelled, his body safely tucked behind a line of guards.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again."

Otto Hightower, who had been tucked in the shadows, stepped forward. "Alicent, release the blade." He spoke, but his eyes were filled with... anticipation. Words nothing but a vast mimic of his duties as the Queens father.

She kept the dagger in her hand. "And now you take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Rhaenyra sneered, "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are."

The steel reflected against the flames, and Valyria felt her head shake, the moment she'd seen playing back before her. Alicent forced herself out of the princess's hold, jerking the blade back, down into her arm. Rhaenyra stepped back, cupping the wound that began to drip with a thick crimson.

The dagger fell to the floor.

It was quiet, for a moment.

Aemond stood from his seat, pushing through the huddled bodies of guards and nobles. "Do not mourn me, Mother." He spoke softly, "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... but I gained a dragon." The young prince assured.

Viserys, who now found himself by his wife, let out another deep sigh. "This proceeding is at an end." He finishes, turning on his heel, making his exit from the throne room.

Valyria looked down to her bloodstained palms, feeling the aching throb of her broken nose return. She saw a figure out of the corner of her eye, catching the sight of her father growing closer. For a second, just a second, she believed he was going to stop by her side. To ask her if she was okay, to show a form of comfort.

But that was nothing she had ever seen in her dreams.She was being foolish.

Daemon moved right past her. Only then did she want to cry. She watched, a helpless bleeding child, as her father comforted Rhaenyra, gently taking her arm into his hold. She could not find any words, she wanted to reach out, and she hated herself for that. He had no love for her, that, more than anything— had been made clear to her.

The crowd dispersed, and Athens pulled the girl along with the Maesters, away from her father. Who merely watched.

—

Hours later, the sun had risen and morning had dawned.

Valyria burned her nightgown, the white forever stained with crimson. Her nose was snapped into place by the Maesters, though they feared it would heal at an odd angle. And there would be a few small scars, the Gods were not in her favor, as Jacaerys's over-shirt happened to have a decorative pattern that cut right through her pale skin.

She wished to say goodbye to her father. For whatever reason. She dressed herself in a light blue gown, the bridge of her nose taped over. There were deep, purple bruises beneath her eyes, the skin sore to the touch. She made her way through the quiet halls of Driftmark, the ceramic dragon once gifted to her clasped in her palms. It brought her comfort.

There was a balcony, one that overlooked the lively sea, to watch the waves crash against the shoreline.

It was there when she slowed her footfall.

She caught the quiet murmur of voices that grew louder upon her approach, silently tucking her body against a stone wall. Valyria peered around, her hand tightening around the dragon as her violet eyes landed upon her father. His back faced her, but she knew it was him. She did not have to be told, she did not have to think.

But there was another figure.

His silver stare snapped to the where she stood, her frame hastily moving behind the wall, out of sight. A game of cat and mouse.

"What is it, Uncle? Seeing things?" The sound of her father's scoff fell past his lips, her brows furrowing. Uncle?

Valyria heard a hum, "Perhaps you bore me with idle conversation, nephew." The man spoke in return, his voice smooth, unbothered by the pestering of Daemon.

The distant cold winds of the North curled up against the back of her neck, the feeling of snow drifting across her skin. She could see him there. Not her father, the man he was speaking to. She knew who he was now. The Prince. Aerion Targaryen, the King that Fled. The last living son of Jaehaerys I.

The throne was his. He flew away with his dragon in return.

When Viserys was named King, he sued for peace between the Prince and the realm. Aerion agreed, on the terms that he would rarely ever have to show his face in court.

Yet here he was.

"You are here, are you not?" She heard her father question as she carefully peered from around the wall. Aerion now faced the sea, his hands resting against the stone bannister.

He shrugged. "The winds have shifted. My dragon grows restless." The prince answered, silver hair running down the back of his tall frame. "It is why I fled, yet oddly enough, why I return. Perhaps to lend a hand in ceasing this chaos before it begins." Aerion adds, tapping the stone.

Daemon laughed. "Let there be war. Why prevent the fools from killing one another? Saves us the trouble from doing it ourselves." He quipped, leaning against the bannister next to his uncle. The man was several years older, and several inches taller. She assumed her father envied him for that.

A low chuckle was heard from Aerion, "This is what you prefer, hm? Having others do your work for you? Is that not why you called me here? To ensure your marriage to the Princess Rhaenyra?" He questioned, his words drilling into Valyria's mind from where she stood.

"If you wish to see Ser Laenor dead, you will have to do it yourself."

Her father fell silent, his violet eyes slowly rising to meet his uncle in a testing manner.

But Aerion did not flee. "You, are simply, the hollow shell of what a man should be. A ghastly coward who flees from his responsibilities." He stated, facing his nephew, towering over him. "The path you have so irresponsibly set your daughter down will be the very one that closes your eyes."

Daemon's lip curled, head tilting as his jaw clenched, fists tightening by his side.

"You split open her mother's head with a stone and left her twitching in the mud. You abandoned her. All she wants is her father yet her father is a monster." The words that Aerion Targaryen spoke felt like a dagger driving into Valyria's gut, her chest tightening— heart pounding.

"Mind your tongue, Uncle." Daemon finally spoke, stepping closer, anger clear within his features.

A smirk curled around Aerion's mouth, his silver eyes drilling into his nephew. "Why should I?"

The rest of the conversation was static. The princess felt the thumps of her heart in her throat, the ceramic dragon she held nearly tearing into her skin at the tight pressure. Valyria pulled away from the wall, retreating down the long halls of Driftmark.

A truth she refused to believe for so long. Handed to her on a silver platter. You split open her mother's head with a stone and left her twitching in the mud.

In her dreams,

Lady Rhea had no face.

-
authors note

omggggg ok bigish chapter before the time skip,
new oc introduction, mister aerion targaryen
(portrayed by lee pace) so if u wanna see edits
of him because he's literal perfection, check out
my TikTok @ // jonnybernthai

also this is unedited, once again, so please
overlook any mistakes