I have survived
so many fires
I can no longer
tell if I am alive
or if I'm still
burning

– Pavana

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

112 AC

Syrax descended towards the ground in a hard dive, so quick that Aemon was sure she would crash into the ground and die, his cousin along with her. Luckily for Rhaenyra, Syrax clearly knew what she was doing, and she quickly spread her wings just before they hit the ground, slowing them down enough that the resonating thud of their impact was the only consequence to their landing. 

The Dragonkeepers quickly closed in on the yellow-beast, shouting their usual commands in Valyrian to get her to behave. The she-dragon grumbled, but did as she was told, waiting for a grinning Rhaenyra to slide off of her back before she made her way in the direction of the Dragonpit.

Aemon watched with a wide grin as Rhaenyra ran her glove-covered hand over the scales of Syrax's neck, turning to look at him as if she was in awe. It seemed that no matter how many times she rode Syrax, it still felt like the first time for her. She had told him so on multiple occasions, on those nights when the two of them did not want to sleep and snuck into the Keep's kitchens instead. Nights spent stuffing their face with sweets and gossiping.

He himself did not have a dragon, and so he did not know if his cousin was exaggerating the thrill and euphoria of flying through the sky, but he believed her nonetheless. He dreamt of it many times. The wind through his hair, the rough scales beneath his fingers and nothing but the blue sky and clouds around him. 

Leaning against the carriage that was waiting to take him and Rhaenyra back to the Red Keep, he waited patiently for her. Behind him on the steps of the carriage waited the Lady Alicent, the daughter of the Hand and as much of his friend as Rhaenyra was. He knew that she too was smiling at Rhaenyra. Inside the carriage, he could hear the impatient whining of his little sister, asking if their cousin was coming yet.

"Welcome back, princess, I trust your ride was pleasant," Ser Harrold Westerling greeted Rhaenyra as she finally stepped away from Syrax, pulling off her gloves with her teeth. For a moment, Aemon grimaced, knowing full well that dragons reeked despite not having one himself, and the thought of putting a riding glove in his mouth after touching one seemed rather unpleasant. Rhaenyra did not seem to mind though, and instead nodded at Ser Harrold with glee.

"Try not to look too relieved, Ser," she told him, a bounce in her step. Aemon chuckled at her words, watching as Ser Harrold raised a brow up at the Princess.

"I am relieved. Every time that golden beast brings you back unspoilt, saves my head from a spike." Rhaenyra hid her chuckle by looking down at the ground for a moment. Aemon pushed himself off of the carriage when she was close enough, falling into step with her.

"Syrax is growing quickly!" Alicent said happily, fixing the skirt of her pale blue dress by running her hands down the front of it. Aemon had to agree. It seemed only a few months ago that the dragon was barely big enough to fly by itself, not to mention carry someone on its back. "Soon she'll be as large as Caraxes and Karnax."

Rhaenyra hummed in answer. "That's almost large enough to saddle two." Her violet eyes flicked between Alicent and Aemon, the insinuation plain as day. The smile Alicent had on strained a little, and Aemon did not quite know how to react. He had tried to ride with someone else before, but it was common for dragons to reject a second rider on their back, and that was exactly what had happened. The burn mark on his left shoulder was proof of that, and the tight burnt flesh was suddenly far too taut when he remembered it. Morghul had not accepted him, but he supposed that should have been expected from the start. The black beast had been born before the Conquest, and yet he had only accepted a rider almost a century later. His father was a formidable man indeed to claim such a dragon. Karnax had been utterly disinterested in him, but when his mother attempted to get him on her back when he was ten years old, she had reared her head snapped her jaws at him. They did not even try Caraxes, for the Bloodwyrm was unpredictable by himself.

"I believe I'm quite content as a spectator, thank you," Alicent replied with raised eyebrows, jerking her head towards the door of the carriage, where Aemon's sister was already waiting for them. Alicent clambered in, then Rhaenyra followed and finally Aemon himself climbed in, shutting the door behind him. 

"Gods, finally," Visenys complained as Aemon sat down beside her, kicking her lightly in the shins so she would stop sprawling all over the seat and taking so much space. She huffed at him, but conceded and pulled her legs closer to the wall of the carriage, allowing Aemon to sit comfortably.

"When Veraxes gets big enough for you to ride him, you're going to be much worse!" he argued with an amused raise of his eyebrow. Visenys opened her mouth, then closed it, frowning up at him. At eleven years of age, Visenys was a surprisingly fiery child, content to make lordlings her age cry rather than learn how to be a proper lady. Their mother was quite exasperated with her, but any scolding Visenys received was always filled with a doting edge.

"At least I have a dragon that I will be able to ride," she bit back, though the heat in her voice was very obviously played and not at all similar to the way she spoke to strangers. Once, such a comment might have hurt him far more than it did now, but instead Aemon poked her in the side and watched as she curled in on herself. "Do not do that!" She swatted his hand away. Despite the smile he forced on his face, her comment did hurt to some degree.

Alicent tried to hide her giggle behind the palm of her hand, but it was of no use. They were all in an enclosed space, and the melodic notes of her laugh could be heard by everyone. At least she had the courtesy to try and hide it, he supposed, but he did not mind that she fought his squabbling with his sister humorous.

"Perhaps I will challenge you to a race on horseback! Then we will see who is superior," he joked, though it was not completely a joke. Rhaenyra perked up at that, leaning forward slightly. Any and all challenges were welcomed by her, and she was just as good atop a horse as she was a dragon. Aemon would say he was better, but she would surely argue against that.

"Yes! Let us race so I may prove you wrong," she told him with the smallest of smirks, "as always." Aemon did his best to muster an offended look, placing his hand on his chest as if what she said had hurt him in some way. Rhaenyra grinned at that, laughing lowly at the back of her throat. Them challenging each other to things to prove a point was not an uncommon thing. They had been doing it since they were children, when it started with who could throw the ball the farthest or who could get down to the Godswood the fastest.

"If you say so," he told her, allowing his head to lull to the side so he could watch the streets of King's Landing from the window of the carriage. The peasants wandered around them, only a few looking up from their work or business to watch the royal carriage ride by. With how many times Rhaenyra and Visenys went to see their dragons, it would not surprise him if they were so used to it that they did not care anymore. He had to wonder sometimes what life as a commoner must feel like. Was it so different to live as a peasant than as a prince? He imagined that in surface matters, it was plenty different, but humans were the same regardless of their birth or station. No matter how many times his Uncle Daemon boasted about their Valyrian blood and superiority above others, they were just people like everyone else.

They cried when they were sad and they smiled when they were happy and if one were to cut their veins they would bleed the same red. Everyone had their own worries, of that he was certain. Perhaps his were not as dire as not having enough coin to feed his family, but to him his worries felt just as dire. Sometimes at night he laid in his bed and pondered it, how selfish and ungrateful he must sound. He had all the wealth in the world, nothing to inherit, but he would never go so hungry that his bones grew weak or his hair fell out. He lived in a palace filled with servants and knights to protect him, he would never have to worry about freezing to death or catching an illness from the dirtiness he lived in.

He had everything. Everything but a dragon, and that remained a sharp thorn in his skin, a reminder that perhaps the Valyrian features were not the only thing he was lacking. As if the Gods only sought to remind him of that, a dark lock of hair fell into his field of vision. He quickly pushed it aside.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the Red Keep. When the carriage stopped, he waited patiently for Rhaenyra and Alicent to climb out, before he followed after them. Visenys quickly followed him, stretching her arms out as if she had been traveling for days and every bone in her body hurt. Aemon would have rolled his eyes if he were not so used to his dramatics. He eyed her for a moment, taking note that her hair was let loose again, despite their mother many protests. 

"If you're going to run around the city like a rowdy boy, at least tie your hair back!" she always said with exasperation. She would have to sit with Visenys often to brush the dirt and tangles from the silvery locks.

Aemon turned to the entrance of the Red Keep, bounding up the stairs to follow Alicent and Rhaenyra. Visenys was right on his tail. When they entered, they did not go the same way. The girls turned left and he went right, waving to them over his shoulder.

"Tell Viserra I miss her!" he called after Visenys, walking backwards for a bit so he could still face her. Even from a distance, he swore he saw his sister role her eyes at him. He grinned, turning back around and making his way to the training yard as Visenys' voice carried through the hall.

"She will not understand me even if I do!"

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

The day was becoming unbearably hot, causing sweat to gather on Aella's skin in an uncomfortable sheen. She couldn't help but curl her nose at the feeling of it that followed whenever she shifted on the settee she was lounging on, waving her fan exasperatedly. No matter how much she used it, she could not relieve herself of the heat. It was a great annoyance, really, and she wished that the day would come to a close sooner so the cooler night may follow.

Aemma did a much better job at hiding her discomfort, smiling at the servants that bustled around them, doing the best to take care of the pregnant Queen and the Princess who was in a much similar state. She caressed her growing belly – a few weeks off from if not days off from giving birth – and fanned herself just as Aella did.

The bulging belly that Aella sported was not much the same, the size difference barely noticeable. She was only a month away from her labours, and every day grew increasingly more uncomfortable. She had to admit that she and Aemma painted a funny image together, looking more akin to beached whales than royalty, no matter how much Rhaegon tried to convince her that she was mistaken in that observation. 

A crib was placed beside Aella's settee, housing the newest addition to the royal family. Viserra was only a year and a half old and a much calmer child than her elder sister had been. She was content to sit in the cradle or on the rugs with the servant girls all day, playing or simply watching everyone around her with curiosity. 

Aella reached over, swiping a silver lock of hair from the girl's forehead. A pair of deep indigo eyes bore into her as she did so, and then her daughter released a giggle. Gods, she was the very image of Rhaegon. It was funny, really, that out of all three of her children, not a single one took after her. Aemon had Rhaegon's chin and his nose, but he had the colouring of a Baratheon, Visenys could have been Daemon's twin in another world and Viserra bore almost all of Rhaegon's features, save for her adorably small button nose. Aella supposed that if she ever wanted a child that looked like her, she would have to put her hopes in the one moving around in her right now. It kicked at her rib, and she had to stifle a groan.

With a heavy sigh, Aella once again picked up the book she had discarded, choosing to ignore the servants and the maester – a man ever-present in Aemma's chambers now, it seemed – instead of merely staring at them. As she opened the book and her eyes fell on the words written there, her mind went blank and she could not focus at all. Instead, her gaze drifted back to Aemma, watching as she sat up with a small grimace and allowed a maid to fix the pillow behind her. 

It had been nine years since Viserys was crowned king. Nine years since their conversation where Aemma admitted she did not want to have anymore children. Nine years of Viserys forcing her to have more, because he wanted a male heir. And still, that boy would not arrive. Two boys had perished in the cradle since then, a girl born dead, and now Aemma was carrying another. Aella sometimes wondered if Viserys was ever meant to have a son at all, as the Gods clearly did not wish it for him. She almost found herself praying Aemma would have another girl, simply to spite her cousin, but she quickly wiped that thought from her head.

If Aemma had a girl, he would just force her to have another child. If she had a boy and he lived, then perhaps Aemma would finally be given a reprieve.

"Ah, Rhaenyra!" Aemma called, looking at the opened door that led to the hallway. Aella craned her neck to look behind her, watching as her niece by marriage strode into the room with a happy grin. Lady Alicent, the girl's friend was with her too, but she stayed a respectful distance away to let the the Queen and her daughter have some privacy. 

Behind her, another girl emerged, and Aella smiled brightly as Visenys hurdled past Alicent and towards her settee. She had half the mind to reprimand the girl for running so wildly and almost scaring the maester half to death, but how could she do that when her daughter's angelic face shone so brightly with excitement as she kneeled onto the floor beside the settee.

"You will dirty your gown, Vis!" Aella chuckled, watching as Visenys frowned down at the floor, before shaking her head. She had never cared about such things. Her hair was loose again, Aella noticed, but chose not to say anything. It was not dirtied or tangled this time, so there truly was no need. She knew she already criticised many things about her daughter's behaviour. It was for her own good, she always told herself, but still found the need to remind Visenys that she still loved her, no matter how many times she tore her gown or ended up with dried leaves in her hair.

"The Dragonkeepers say I should be able to ride Veraxes soon!" she told her happily, leaning her hands in her chin. "I cannot wait any longer! I want to fly with Uncle Daemon and father!" Aella had long learned to not stiffen up at the closeness between Daemon and Visenys, knowing that the girl's true father did not mean any harm. He would never tell her the truth, and he did his best to show the same care to Rhaenyra and Aemon as well, so it did not seem as though he had some special bond with Visenys. Still, he had quickly become her favourite uncle, and whenever he left King's Landing to go to the Vale or other places that only the Gods knew about, she could be found mopping around the castle.

"Not with me?" Aella raised a brow, watching as Visenys' face went from confused to worried to guilty and then finally something between all three. She could not help the chuckle that came from her, running her hand over her pregnant belly.

"You are with child mother! And you do not ride as often as you once did," Visenys argued sheepishly, folding her hands over the cushion of the settee. It was true, Aella supposed with a sigh. After her miscarriage nine years prior, she did not want to risk it again. It had taken seven years for her to fall pregnant again with Viserra, so it had been a surprise to both her and Rhaegon when she swelled with child again only nine months after Viserra was born. And Aella would not risk losing this child. The pain she had suffered with Daella and the miscarried babe was too great. 

And before that, she had allowed court life to swallow her up. Had allowed grief to take over her mind as it had after Daella, watching as everyone around her seemed to succumb to something. Alyssane, Jaehaerys, then the babe, then her mother to the Winter fever and finally Lady Ceryse to some other sickness the maesters did not even know the name of. She had played everything off as if she was fine, as if losing the last remnant she had of the time with her father – save for Rhaenys – had not slipped between her fingers before they ever reconciled from a fight that she had started. As if a woman who had grown to be her friend and a constant in her life, thanks to her husband's position as Hand, had not simply faded as if she had never existed.

The only reminders of them now were Aemon and Alicent, the very picture of the two of them. Aemon and his Baratheon features, Alicent and her gentle face.

Visenys leaned over to the cradle, smiling at her sister before tickling her stomach. The baby's shrieking laugh filled the room soon after, and Aella could not help the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips.

"Aemon says he misses you, little Serra, even though he say you just yesterday!"

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

As much as Rhaegon loved his eldest brother, he had to admit that sometimes he was a fool. Often times, he found himself wondering if Viserys ignored important matter purposely, if only so he could contain his illusions of peace and prosperity fo a while longer. There could be no other explanation for his utter dismissal of Corlys Velaryon the past week. 

The council meeting had only just begun, but Rhaegon could already see the tendons in Corlys' neck strain as he tried to keep his mouth shut at least a little longer while the King said whatever joke he had deemed worthy to let past his lips. Rhaegon did not join the men of the council as they laughed, and neither did Corlys.

It seemed the two of them had come to an understanding as of late, as they had often times clashed on matters before. Rhaegon always advised caution, while Corlys was prepared to solve issues immediately without assessing everything first. What did it matter when he had enough money to built a second High Tide and enough men to garrison fifty forts if he wished so. On the matter of the Stepstones, Rhaegon found himself siding with Corlys more often than not.

Pirates had inhabited the islands since his father passed. He could remember the matter being brought up at a council meeting just a few days before Baelon died. The anger and hatred he bore towards the Myrish pirates that killed his own brother, Rhaegon's father-in-law. But now the pirates were no longer a problem, as a newly formed alliance between the Free Cities called the Triarchy was taking root there. They were ridding the pirates of their foothold, but they were establishing their own.

Corlys and Rhaegon had been discussing the matter privately for days on end. From his spot beside Otto Hightower, Rhaegon met Corlys' eye. The man pursed his lips and nodded, taking that as his signal to restart the discussion. It would undoubtedly be struck down again, as it had been for multiple meetings in a row now, but this time Rhaegon was prepared to actually back Corlys.

"My lords," Corlys' voice resonated over the room, blocking out the laughing of the other lords on the council. "The growing alliance between the Free Cities has taken to calling itself the Triarchy." Corlys stood up from his chair, picking up a rolled up map and spreading it over the table for all the men there to see. "They have amassed on Bloodstone and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation."

"Well that sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys," Viserys remarked, his ever-present smile dimming the slightest bit. He's annoyed, Rhaegon noted in his mind. He has not right to be annoyed. Perhaps his own quarrels with his eldest brother were clouding his judgement, or perhaps the knowledge that his brother was once again delaying the inevitable made his blood boil. To occupy himself and not let his anger be shown, Rhaegon shifted his hand slightly towards his council stone – a perfectly refined and smoothed ball made of moonstone. 

"A man named Craghas Drahar has styled himself the Prince Admiral of this Triarchy," Corlys continued, ignoring Viserys attempt to stop this discussion once more. "They call him the Crabfeeder due to his inventive methods of punishing his enemies." The door opened and Rhaegon cursed inwardly. In mere seconds, they had lost Viserys' attention. He watched as Rhaenyra, his dear but terrible unpunctual niece, quickly made her way into the council room.

"And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?" Viserys asked offhandedly, his attention already on his daughter. Rhaenyra had been made the cupbearer some moons ago. It had been Rhaegon's suggestion, as he believed the King's only living child should know the works of the internal affairs of state. Viserys did not bother teaching him herself. Why should he need to when he has a son on the way? 

Rhaegon only wished he had found a way to get Aemon in on the council meetings too, but Viserys had decided he was too young and should be focusing on other things. He was unsure what other things were, as his son had all but finished his education and only needed to practice to hone his sword skill to the best it could be. The only real thing he lacked at the moment was experience, and so Rhaegon gave it to him the only way he knew how. Retelling the council meetings was no nearly as giving as sitting in on one, but at least he could give his son questions about certain topics that were discussed. 

"Rhaenyra, you're late," Viserys chided his daughter, leaning towards her as she walked closer. "The King's cupbearer must never be late! It leaves people wanting for cups." Rhaenyra leaned forward and kissed Viserys' cheek.

"I was visiting mother," she explained, pulling away from her father and making her way to the side of the room where a table was set with jugs of wine and other refreshment. Almost every meeting, they were completely untouched, safe for the wine. It was a waste, and Rhaegon often times found himself pulling a servant girl aside and telling her to distribute it amongst the people in King's Landing. The council room was not the only place that saw such waste, many feasts, tea parties and luncheons were much the same, and so it managed to feed entire districts at times. He had told the servants to never do it under his name, but he knew they had let it slip once or twice and now any such acts of kindness from the royal family had been connected to him in the minds of the people, even when some weren't. It had annoyed this brother greatly in the beginning, but he had learned to set his bitterness aside.

"On dragon-back?"

"Your Grace, at Prince Daemon's urging the crown has invested significant capitol into the retraining and reequipping of his City Watch," Lord Beesbury cut in before Corlys could say anything else on the matter of the Stepstones. "I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide an assessment of his progress as Commander of the City Watch." Rhaegon's eyes snapped to the chair beside Viserys, directly across from Otto. It sat empty, as it did many times.

Rhaegon did not pay attention to the conversation between Lord Beesbury in his brother, knowing it was simply going to be more talk of Daemon not fulfilling whatever duties were assigned to him. That was exactly what happened, and all Rhaegon could do was sigh and stop himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he looked over to Corlys, raising a brow in a questioning manner. The man looked just as exasperated as Rhaegon felt.

"I would urge that you do not allow this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones, your Grace," Corlys took a chance once more as Lord Beesbury's topic was laid to a rest. Viserys' annoyance was visible to all now, but Corlys did not shrink back in the face of it. "If those shipping lanes should fall it will begger our ports."

"The crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement," Otto Hightower cut in, as he always seemed to do in these meetings. Rhaegon's fingers tightened around his council stone, pressing hard into the polished surface of it until his bones felt strained and close to snapping at the pressure.

"You have been saying so for the past week, Lord Hand," Rhaegon spoke for the first time that meeting. His annoyance was plainly put forward by his tone, but he did not much care anymore. He had spent the last twelve years of his life being cautious at any meeting, not wanting to anger his brother or his grandfather before him. But it seemed that kind of approach did not work in this council room. "When is it that you will take it under advisement? When the Triarchy demands payment for every ship that crosses through there? When our merchants lose half of their goods to whatever checkpoint will be set up? When the trading routes will close down in their entirety and every port on the eastern coast of Westeros will find itself without any wealth?

Otto frowned at him, the muscles in his jaw clenching. And then he inhaled, as if to calm himself. "There has been no signs of any of this happening as of yet, or am I wrong, my Prince?"

"You are, Lord Hand. Lord Corlys is the Master of Ships and he himself has realised this issue is now upon us. Is there any man in this room – in the entirety of the realm, even – that is as experienced and well-versed in trading and seafaring as him?" Rhaegon asked, not waiting for anyone to answer, because they all knew there was not. "It has already happened before when the pirates had taken the Stepstones, and we had not done anything then either." 

Silence fell upon the room, and Rhaegon immediately knew that despite his support of Corlys' words and his own interference, the topic would be left behind again. He clenched his jaw, waiting for the inevitable.

"Shall we discuss the heir's tournament, your Grace?" Otto turned to Viserys, whose face instantly lit up at the mention of it. Rhaegon let out an exasperated sigh, ignoring the loom Viserys threw him and looked to Corlys instead. Yet another council meeting where nothing of importance would be discussed, simply because the King did not wish to.

Author's Note

Welcome to the first chapter of act one!

I am still getting a feel of Aemon's character so some of his povs may be a bit strange, but I could not wait to get this out for you and decided it was good enough for now.

It's been nine years since the previous chapter and she relationship dynamics have changed (mainly Viserys and Rhaegon) and that will be revealed a bit more in the next chapter and the one after that!