Westeros, King's Landing
The Red Keep
107 AC
Queen Alicent finds them situated in King Viserys' private room where his model of the Valyrian Freehold is. With Otto under custody Viserys had dismissed the council to their chambers with the command to reconvene on the morrow after Otto's trial. Yet rather than going to sleep himself, he had asked them, Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Aemon, to convene in this chamber to discuss the future of the Kingdom. This is how Alicent found them, situated around the model of the Valyrian Freehold, discussing the Small Council, the various threats to the Kingdom, and other matters of state.
"You arrested my father!" exclaims Alicent as she barges into the room, her face flushed and her breathing heavy. "You had him thrown into a cell like some common criminal as if he had not served you faithfully for years." she says as she marches towards the king, only to stop short as she finally takes notice of all those present in the room.
King Viserys slowly brushes a dragon figurine, Princess Rhaenyra walking around the table on which the model is set, and Prince Daemon leaning against a wall with his arms crossed watching the two. However, what surprises her is Aemon's presence in the room; sitting on a chair, his legs crossed, and gently brushing the plumage of his massive raven as it stands perched on his shoulder. Next to Aemon's chair is his massive direwolf, easily larger than any horse, laying down and regarding Alicent with utter disinterest.
"Your grace." greets Aemon with a nod, not even bothering to stand as protocol dictates and is demanded by her station.
"You arrested my father on the words of this bastard?" questions Alicent with a glare while pointing an accusatory finger at Aemon, earning an amused smile from him.
"I arrested your father on the words that he himself has exchanged with his lordly brother." replies Viserys, not bothering to look up at her. "Treasonous words that would see anyone else banished to the wall at best." he says, cutting her momentum.
"What words?" demands Alicent.
"Treasonous words. Words that insinuate that Aegon should rule rather than Rhaenyra." explains Viserys, though his explanation is rather tame compared to Otto's true words.
Daemon and Aemon easily notice this, especially Aemon who regards Viserys with a raised eyebrow. Otto's letters insinuated nothing and may as well have swore that he would do all in his power to see Aegon on the throne.
"And you believe this bastard's words over his?" asks Alicent.
"Just as I have believed your father's words over Daemon's. Of course there are also the damning letters themselves." says Viserys as he flings said letters at Alicent.
She does not even bother to read them, instead opting to glare at Viserys before throwing them back at him.
"Then, what do you plan for him?" asks Alicent, her voice softer.
"Banishment. He shall never set foot in King's Landing again under the threat of death." says Viserys, causing Alicent to gasp.
"Is that not too harsh?" she asks, her voice slightly trembling. "He would never see his grandchildren." she adds.
"That is the idea." replies Viserys. "I do not need him putting any ideas in Aegon's head." he explains
Shocked, Alicent cannot help but look at the other occupants of the room. Though she knows not to expect sympathy, she does not expect the reactions she receives.
Daemon continues to watch the exchange between her and Viserys, a smirk on his lips. Rhaenyra does not even bother to watch the exchange, her focus staying on the model of the Valyrian Freehold; and like her, Aemon's focus seems to be entirely on his raven.
With nary another word, Alicent exits the chamber, the hems of her dress trailing behind her in her brisk pace.
"She will come around." comments Viserys, causing Aemon and Daemon to exchange a glance between them.
"Now, where were we?" asks Viserys.
"The matter of the Triarchy and the coalition of sorcerers in Asshai, your grace." says Aemon, his hand moving from Huginn to Ghost where he begins to caress the direwolf behind the ear.
"Yes, the Triarchy and these sorcerers. How sure are you of this information?" asks Viserys with a frown.
"Quite sure. I have a Red Priestess in my employ who has confirmed it." replies Aemon.
At the mention of a Red Priestess, Daemon frowns.
"Why would you ever trust one of those zealots?" he sneers, the disdain and disgust clear in his voice.
"They have their uses, if one knows how." answers Aemon with a shrug.
"One of those sorcerers has already attacked us, a retaliation must follow." says Rhaenyra.
"We cannot afford another war yet, at least not until the one in the Stepstones has been completely settled. Though I fear it may not be for many more years even with the Crabfeeder's death." says Daemon with a shake of his head.
"Hmmm, you are both right." Aemon says. "A retaliation is a must, but it need not be a war or an attack. There are more…clandestine ways of dealing with one's enemies." he adds.
"What do you have in mind?" asks Viserys.
"Nothing concrete yet, your grace. However, I am confident to have a tangible plan for you within the moon's turn." Aemon replies.
"Very well." accepts Viserys with a nod. "Though I believe that is enough for the night. The day ahead is a long one and we must rest. I will see you tomorrow." he says.
Recognising the dismissal for what it is, Aemon stands and nods his head toward Viserys before turning to leave, his animal companions following close behind.
"He is a proud one." comments Viserys as the doors close behind Aemon.
"He has the capacity to be proud. They all do." Daemon answers.
"Yes, they are an accomplished group. Saera Targaryen's Great Bastards are spoken of even all the way here, in King's Landing, as if they were figures of songs." Viserys remarks.
"I assure you brother, many of those songs do not do them justice." chuckles Daemon.
…
…
…
Events have transpired better than he expected, Aemon thinks to himself as he walks through the empty walls of the Red Keep. He had expected Viserys to begin doubting Otto, perhaps hopefully remove him from the position of Hand, not outright arrest him. Then again, he did not expect Otto of all people to possess incriminating evidence of his traitorous thoughts in his chambers.
"Well done." congratulates Aemon, a shadow slithering off the wall at his words and materialising a step behind him.
"Thank you, my lord." says Evelynn as she follows closely behind to his right.
"Tell me, how did you find these letters? I would think that Otto would be meticulous enough to burn them as soon as possible." asks Aemon.
"He did, my lord. I merely…incentivised him to recreate them from memory." responds Evelynn, earning a smile from Aemon. "Of course, the old man does not even remember that. For all he knows it was a moment of negligence that resulted in his current situation." she adds with a fanged smile.
"Good girl." compliments Aemon with a chuckle.
"Indeed, that was well done." says Alflyse as she rises from Aemon's shadow and joins Evelynn on Aemon's left.
Rather than verbally respond, Evelynn acknowledges Alflyse's compliment with a nod.
"Now, onto other matters." Aemon says. "With Otto no longer Hand and facing banishment, the Small Council can now be counted as loyal, for the most part. And with my appointment as Master of Whispers it is only a matter of time before the same can be said for the rest of the nobility at court. As such I want to focus on a more pressing matter, The Faith of the Seven."
"Do you wish them destroyed?" asks Evelynn, a bloodthirsty glint appearing in her eyes.
"No, they are far too entrenched in Westerosi society to be destroyed. Rather, I wish for The Faith to become another pillar of strength for Westeros as opposed to the leech that it is." answers Aemon. "Tell me, what do you know of the founding of the Protestant Church?" he asks.
"Do you wish for the same to happen to The Faith?" asks Evelynn.
"It is a thought that I have had lately." admits Aemon, though he has no idea where to begin.
"The Faith espouses such virtues yet paradoxically rely on the blessing of their god for said virtues. Such a practice makes their followers easy to organise and command by their clergy." says Theon Stark as he appears next to Aemon, his sudden appearance almost causing Alflyse and Evelynn to attack him in order to protect Aemon.
"It is in part why your sister fucker house had such issues with rebellions in the past. If you can turn the practice and worship of The Faith from one of praying and worshipping a deity into one of self-improvement and discovery, you would essentially defang The Faith without needing to raise a single sword. After all, it is harder to organise and command individuals as opposed to groups of individuals." suggests Theon.
"What you are suggesting is individualism." says Evelynn with a slight frown. "How would that better serve my lord's cause of a unified and cohesive people under the crown?" asks Evelynn.
"I do not care about such drivel, girl. I only wished to see that heretical Andal faith defanged or destroyed." snarls Theon.
Rolling his eye Aemon forcefully banishes The Hungry Stark's spectre.
"My ancestor's idea may not be the best, but it does hold some merit." says Aemon as a memory sprouts into his mind. A memory of a particular manhwa where knighthood is an integral part of a kingdom's society without being shackled to religion.
The knights of the manhwa, Star Embracing Swordmaster, are an honorable yet competent lot. Loyalty to their lord is of paramount importance and their dedication to self-improvement is a virtue that would well benefit House Targaryen and Westerosi society as a whole. Their culture is one where a knight's accomplishments and failings reflect upon the lord in equal measure just as a lord's accomplishments and failings reflect upon the knight.
While this concept does exist in Westeros, it is barebones compared to in Star Embracing Swordmaster. In the manhwa it reaches to such an extent that an heir to a powerful lord is willing to give a peasant from the slums the opportunity to become a knight simply because should the peasant reach that potential it may be enough elevate the heir to the position of lord despite being unable to wield a sword in a martially inclined society. While here, in Westeros, the peasant is more likely to die in the slums or killed by some idiotic lord or even banished to the Night's Watch on false charges.
The more Aemon thinks of the possibility the more he begins to like the idea. It is a plausible and possible one, and with knighthood already being so prominent in Westori the groundwork has already been laid out for him. All he needs to do is change the culture around knighthood, a task that is by no means an easy one especially since it is known that he does not worship the Seven. Of course that in itself is a strength since he can use his lack of belief as a reasoning for his unorthodox and potentially blasphemous practices. Add in some more flamboyance and pageantry to the institution and soon all the self-important sothron nobles will be clamoring to practice his version of knighthood. First however, he must set the scene for tomorrow.
"Tomorrow is to be a long and historic day for Westeros." Aemon tells Evelynn,
"At the Dragonpit Viserys is to make an announcement to reassure the people of King's Landing of House Targaryen's strength and ability to protect them. It is the perfect time to begin sowing discord amongst the Faith. Find a septon amongst the clergy in King's Landing, one who is beloved by the people for acts of kindness, service, and compassion but not too well liked amongst his peers for his controversial opinions. On the morrow, early in the morn, with the financial aid of our businesses, he will walk the streets aiding all in need while preaching something mild. Something along the lines of 'The Seven only helps those who help themselves'. And when the royal procession passes through the streets, have him espouse the virtues of House Targaryen; a difficult task I know, but I am sure that you will think of something. Makes him heard and seen by as many people as possible, smallfolk and nobility alike." commands Aemon.
"As you command." says Evelynn with a bow before turning into a flock of ravens and flying away into the city.
"That is new." comments Aemon with a raised eyebrow before continuing to his chambers to retire for the night.
…
…
…
The next morning Aemon is forcefully awoken when an uninvited guest bursts into his room at the crack of dawn. He almost decapitates them in his state of half-sleep until recognition strikes and he stops Longclaw mere centimeters from their throat.
"Hersam." greets Aemon with a sigh as he returns Longclaw to his inventory. "What brings you to my chambers, a world away, at the crack of dawn?" asks Aemon.
"I hear that it is to be an eventful day for the Kingdom ruled by your patriarchal family." comments the fey as he makes his way further into Aemon's room, seemingly unbothered at coming close to death.
"Aye." replies Aemon.
"Then it is only right that I am here to dress you for the occasion. Best to keep those drab mundane stylists as far away from you as possible, my lord." says Hersam as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Very well." agrees Aemon with a smile. "What do you have in mind?"
"Well, considering the address is meant to be a show of strength and reassurance, armor is best for this day." says Hersam before clapping twice. With the fey's clap, an armored fey walks into the room while carrying a mannequin garbed in black partial plate armor with red scale armor beneath peaking through.
"The plate armor is made with proper elven steel of the Unseelie Court, a gift from House Aradan's lord when he sent his son, and heir, to represent his house's interests on Dragonstone. And the scale armor underneath is made of Caraxes' scales, many of which were recovered from his battle in Albion's chambers" says Hersam. "There was enough to form multiple of such suits in varying styles. However, you shall not be dressed in neither black nor red today, my lord." says Hersam as another mannequin is brought it, this one wearing a cold blue scale suit that appears white in certain angles.
"This scale suit is made of Albion's scales and there is enough for an army of knights, naturally the very first is for you, my lord." explains Hersam as the black armor's color shifts to silver. "You shall wear gleaming silver and this beautiful winter blue. Today is meant to inspire calmness, strength, hope, and loyalty. Leave the black and red for when you are threatening your enemies or for everyday life."
"Now, it is time to prepare." says Hersam as a group of fey servants enter the room.
It does not take too long for Aemon to be washed, groomed, and dressed in clothes the same blue, accented in white, as the scale armor before the armor is placed on him. First the scale armor that fits comfortably and looks as if it were cloth as opposed to dragon scales. It reminds Aemon of Thor's armor from Marvel Comics. His armor is metallic scale armor yet in the panels it looks to be cloth due to how well it sits upon his person.
"The process to make the scale so malleable and form fitting while retaining its protective properties is a magic and time extensive one. Though fortunately the tools required for such a procedure are portable and as such we were able to make use of the accelerated time feature of your training yard to create this. Otherwise the suit would not be ready in time for this day." Hersam explains as he watches Aemon admire the scale suit.
"I attempted something of the like once. At the time Caraxes was a mere hatchling and as such I expected the scales to be malleable or soft enough." says Aemon, causing Hersam to scoff.
"Dragons are magical creatures, no matter how young their scales shall always be too rigid for mundane methods." he says as they begin to place the plate armor on Aemon.
Once the armor is on him Aemon cannot help but marvel at the craftsmanship. It is smooth, light, and easy to maneuver in as if he is not wearing it at all, and unseen by him until now are the light engravings of dragons, wolves, and ravens on it.
"There. Now all that is missing are the finishing touches." says Hersam as he hands Aemon a lone white glove for his burned hand, fastens a matching blue cloak lined in white fur to his shoulders, and presents him with a sword belt for his sword.
The belt has dragons dancing around its buckle while a pack of direwolves run along its length, with the leader of the pack bearing a striking resemblance to Ghost while the other wolves appear to be Grey Wind, Nymeria, Shaggydog, and Summer.
"How did you know?" asks Aemon as he appreciatively takes the belt and ties it around his person, summoning Longclaw from his inventory and placing it on the belt.
"There is a beautiful portrait in your personal chambers on Dragonstone." replies Hersam, earning a nod from Aemon. "Perfect." says Hersam as he observes his handiwork.
"Good work." compliments Aemon with a nod as he exits his chambers and makes his way towards Daemon's chambers, Ghost following at his side while Algrim, Caleb, and Eredin follow at his back; all three wearing armor of blue, silver, and white to match him. Though their scale armor is not made of dragon scales.
With a caw, Huginn flies through the air and comes to perch himself on Aemon's shoulder. As they navigate through the corridors of the Red Keep, courtiers and servants alike cannot help but stare as the group passes by, many of them whispering to themselves once they believe them to be out of earshot.
Considering the events of yesterday and the significance of today, it is no wonder that the Red Keep, and the city alike, is buzzing with activity this early in the morn. Many wonder at what the response of the king, and the royal family by extension, shall be. And many more wonder at what the Rogue Prince's response will be.
"The mundane are a gossiping lot." grumbles Eredin, the words flowing from his mouth in the Unseelie tongue.
"It is a court, Eredin, the behavior is not so foreign even in the Unseelie Court" replies Caleb, earning a grunt from Eredin.
"At the very least the gossipers of our court can do battle as well they wag their tongues. This city only has one warrior of note here and even he is hampered by the limits of being a mundane, magical blood be damned." argues Eredin.
"You counted one? What of their white cloaked knights?" asks Caleb, making Eredin scoff.
"They are passable at best" Eredin says.
As they turn the final corner to their destination, their conversation is cut short as two laughing children run headlong into Aemon's legs.
"Oof, sorry." apologises one of the children as he rubs his forehead.
"It is dangerous for young princes to be racing around unattended." comments Aemon, causing the twins to look at him.
Upon laying eyes on him Daemon's sons cannot help but stare in awe, their eyes wandering over his armor, the dragon and direwolf motifs engraved upon the plate, the scale under said plate, and even the blue cloak lined in white fur.
Eventually their eyes catch sight of the massive direwolf by his side and cannot help but recoil in fear, with Aemon, Daemon's son, catching himself after a few steps back before resuming his awe filled stares.
"Aemon. Rhaegar." calls out Daemon as he finally catches up to his sons.
Daemon, like Aemon before him, is dressed for battle. Though Aemon's white, silver, and cold blue invokes awe, hope, and feelings of comfort, Daemon's red and black dragon armor invokes dread, fear, and wariness.
"My prince." Aemon greets Daemon with a respectful nod.
"Aemon." returns Daemon with a nod of his own. "I see that you have found my wayward sons."
"It would be more apt to say they found me." replies Aemon as the flashes the boys a smile.
Before Daemon can answer his son runs to him and pulls on his red shoulder cape.
"Papa, papa, I want to dress like him." says the dark haired boy.
"You wish to dress like cousin Aemon?" asks Daemon with a raised eyebrow, a small smile slightly curling a corner of his lip upwards.
"What? No papa, I am already dressed like Aemon. I am Aemon, remember?" asks the boy with a frown and a pout.
"Yes, you are." confirms Daemon before pointing to Aemon the elder, "But he is also Aemon, like you." he tells the boy, causing him to look at his counterpart in name.
"I am also Aemon." says the man to the boy, prompting him to look at him closer.
"Your hair is like mine." says the boy with a smile, pointing at Aemon's long hair while tugging at his own dark hair with a single streak of silver.
"Aye, my prince." replies Aemon with a smile of his own, though he neglects to mention that while they both possess dark hair his is black while the boy's is closer to dark brown in proper lighting.
"Come boy, it is time. No doubt your uncle Viserys and Rhaenyra waits for us." says Daemon as he grabs each boy by the hand and leads them towards the throne room where Viserys awaits.
Throughout their walk the twins continue to speak and babble on about any number of things to each other, though if one were to observe carefully they would notice that Aemon is not as invested in their conversations as his twin. He constantly sneaks peeks behind him to look at his counterpart, his eyes constantly roaming through the armor, cloak, and sword with awe filled eyes while he plays with his hair as if contemplating something of great importance.
Eventually he seems to find the answer he is looking for and ceases to steal glances at Aemon, though the smile never leaves his face and only seems to widen instead.
As they reach the entrance of the throne room they find Viserys and his family waiting for them with the Kingsguard shadowing them, their hands on their swords ready to draw them at a moment's notice. All are dressed to wow the crowd, smallfolks and nobles alike
Viserys cuts the figure of a benevolent king as opposed to a conquering one. Dressed in the black of their house, accented in red, for the first time since Aemon has met him he stands as a king should. Back straight, head held high, and not a single sign of weakness to be seen from his person. He may not resemble a warrior but for once Aemon is willing to believe him to be King. Still, it is somewhat surprising to see him stand so powerfully now for the night before the infections from the cut he's received on the throne were bothering him. Now it seems as if those injuries never existed in the first place. Adding the Conciliator's crown upon his brow and Viserys finally looks like a proper king.
By his side Rhaenyra too cuts the figure of a regal heir. She, like Viserys and Daemon, wears the black of their house with dragon scale motifs accented in red. Her hair is in a partial, elaborate braid that forms a beautiful crown of silver-gold around her head while the rest flows down her back. Whichever of her servants braided it needs to be rewarded for rather than seeming gaudy, or ugly, it sits naturally upon her head making her moniker as the Realm's Delight pale in comparison to her look.
The only one not adorned in the black of House Targaryen, for even the babe Aegon is garbed in it, is Queen Alicent who wears a beautiful dress of her house's colors. Her auburn hair flows beautifully down her back and standing next to anyone else she would be the most beautiful one present. It is rather unfortunate that she must stand beside the unnatural beauty of the Targaryens.
"You cut the figure of a strong and benevolent king, brother." greets Daemon. "And you, niece, make the moniker of the Realm's Delight fall short."
"Daemon." greets Viserys with a smile. "As always you present yourself like the warrior you are. With Cole's unfortunate demise I'm afraid there is not a warrior who can contest you." says Viserys as he pulls his brother into a hug.
"You would lose that wager, and handily too for our cousins have consistently proven more formidable." replies Daemon, causing Viserys to look at Aemon.
"Aemon." greets Viserys as his eyes roam over Aemon's armor. "While saddened that you do not wear our colors I am pleased that you will not be invoking fear like my brother here." he says.
"Fear and hope are both necessary to rule, your grace. While our enemies must fear us our people must be reassured and in awe of our presence. Currently fear, awe, hope, and reassurance are needed in equal measure." says Aemon.
"Wisely put cousin." says Viserys before turning to exit the Red Keep, the brevity gone from his face. "Come, let us get this over with."
They make their way to the entry yard of the Red Keep where they all, save for Alicent who rides a carriage with the babe Aegon, mount their horses and exit the Red Keep in a procession. At the front is Ser Harrold, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who leads the procession with the Cargyll twins, following them is the King and his heir who are surrounded by the rest of the Kingsguard and Rellana. Behind them Daemon and Aemon who sandwich the twins as they ride their ponies with Ghost following in between the twins. Following them are Eredin, Calen, and Algrim along with a retinue of Gold Cloaks and the half a dozen fae of the Wild Hunt led by Dairic who wears armor that matches Aemon. Bringing the rear of the royal family, is Alicent's carriage surrounded by at least two dozen knights. And finally following them are all the nobles that are currently present at court.
As the gates of the Red Keep opens and the procession begins to move out the smallfolks watch in silence, not knowing what to expect. However, upon seeing Viserys' healthy and strong appearance along with Rhaenyra who confidently rides by his side, they erupt in cheer that only increases as they lay eyes on Daemon and Aemon. Chants of "Prince of the City" and "Lord Snow" follow their appearance and even seems to further explode as their respective soldiers ride behind them. The crowd's enthusiasm almost overwhelms the Gold Cloaks in charge of regulating them before they quickly rally and regain control, almost as the sight of their prince gives them strength.
"You have made a name for yourself." observes Daemon in High Valyrian.
"I assure you, this had nothing to do with me." replies Aemon, the language rolling from his tongue as easily as it does Daemon's. "Evelynn has merely done as she will while using my name." he explains. Though in his private thoughts he remarks how odd it is to hear the moniker "Lord Snow" shouted with such adoration. It has always been a name whispered or screamed by those who fear and hate him, never by those who adore him.
"Hmmm, she is a loyal and competent servant." remarks Daemon before adding. "Would that the crown's own servants were the same."
"Do you speak of the nobles or the Red Keep's servants?" asks Aemon as his lips quirk into a slight smile for he already knows the answer.
"Is there a difference?" asks Daemon, causing Aemon's slight smile to turn into a chuckle that rings out to those in his immediate surroundings.
The sound briefly quiets some of the crowd before they explode in cheer with more fervour.
"I swear I hear swooning mixed in with the cheers." comments Daemon.
"Jealous, my prince? That the maidens no longer swoon over you?" asks Aemon.
"Hardly." replies Daemon.
The rest of the procession to the Dragonpit is made with light conversation until they reach their destination where they dismount their horses.
The Dragonpit is a huge domed castle at the crown of Rhaenys's Hill. The main gate consists of massive doors, mainly bronze with some iron, and are so wide that thirty knights can ride through it at once. A score of lesser entrances are also present, some of them are oak-and-iron doors. The building's walls are thick, the roof strong and a huge dome was constructed above the pit. Benches are located in the pit itself, which can seat eighty thousand.
Within the structure, long brick-lined tunnels have been dug deep into the hillside, fashioned like caves, five times as large as the dragon's lairs on Dragonstone. Beneath the dome, there are forty huge undervaults which have been carved in a great ring. These man-made caves are closed off at both sides by thick iron doors. The inner doors open on the sands of the pit itself, and the outer doors open to the hillside.
Making their way to the center of the pit, the royal family watches as the nobles of the court stream in and sit themselves on the benches. Once they have all entered, the prominent merchants and businessmen within the city follow suit, and once they are seated the less successful ones are allowed to enter. This process continues until eighty thousand people have filled the benches, after which no one else is allowed to enter.
With the Dragonpit filled Viserys turns to address the people. For a second he seems to falter, a mishap that Aemon is sure only he and his fey notice, until Daemon places a supporting hand at his back whereupon he rallies.
"People of King's Landing." begins Viserys, his voice echoing throughout the Dragonpit and further beyond where the wind seems to catch it and transmit it to the entire city. It is a phenomenon that all are perplexed by save for Aemon and his fey who are aware of a mischievous wind spirit that has attached himself to Aemon.
"Nobles, merchants, businessmen, and smallfolks alike." continues Viserys as if it is all going according to plan. "Yesterday our Kingdom was subject to a heinous attack by enemies from across the Narrow Sea. Not only King's Landing, but Oldtown too fell victim to this assault. Sorcerers from Essos intruded upon our shores and with their foul magic spelled our people to madness, forcing them to attack their own. Fathers attacked sons, mothers attacked daughters, brothers attacked one another, and unfortunately many lives were lost. However, in this dark hour our City Watch, our beloved Gold Cloaks, trained by my own brother and your beloved Prince stepped forward and with aid of soldiers trained by Princess Saera's son, and grandson to King Jaehaerys, quelled the madness. The sorcerers were arrested and their reign of terror was cut short and, despite their best efforts, our beloved city emerged still standing." says Viserys, eliciting a cheer from the crowd, those within the Dragonpit and without both.
"However," says Viserys as he raises his hand, silencing the crowd. "This attack cannot go unanswered. First, however, we must mourn our dead, heal our wounded, and award our heroes for their valor." he says before looking towards Aemon.
"Aemon." calls out Viserys.
"Your grace." replies Aemon as he comes to stand before Viserys.
"Kneel." commands Viserys, Aemon following the command despite his many questions. "I have thought long and hard of how to award you for your valor. At first I thought to award you with a knighthood, however my brother saw fit to remind me that, despite your character, you do not follow the Seven. As such I thought to legitimize you as a Targaryen, however Princess Saera saw fit to remove herself from the royal family and King Jaehaerys did not gainsay her decision. To make you a Targaryen would be to spit upon her decision and the Wise King's legacy, however you are still Blood of the Dragon and as King it is my prerogative to ennoble and knight you." says Viserys as Ser Harrold steps forward and presents Blackfyre to him.
"The tenants of knighthood should apply to all men. One need not be a follower of The Faith to be brave, just, defend the young and innocent, and to protect all women." says Viserys as he takes Blackfyre and places it on Aemon's right shoulder.
"Before the people of this city, that you have bravely and justly defended, I acknowledge your bravery," the sword moves from his right shoulder to the left "your dedication to justice," back to the right "your defense of the young and innocent," to the left "along with your protection of all women, and confer to you the titles of Knight and Lord. Rise, Ser Aemon, a knight and lord of the realm." says Viserys.
As Aemon stands, a beam of sunlight streams through a window and lands upon his figure, the light making him appear as if he has stepped out of songs and legends, and for a brief moment, a moment that is long enough for most to see but not long enough for them to believe their sight, they see Aemon's true appearance. They see his already beautiful features become more fair, his hair more luscious, his ears slightly pointed, and his cloak and armor as otherworldly as Valyrian Steel. For that brief moment they see not Aemon, but Gwyn, Lord Commander of the Wild Hunt and King of the Unseelie Court, as his people see him; fair, bright, and almost holy.
The sight makes the crowd erupt in cheer, with cries of Ser Aemon "The Fair" or Ser Aemon "The Holy" echoing throughout the entire city. The sound so loud that with a little aid from the mischievous wind spirit it is heard as far away as a day's journey from King's Landing. That day the people of King's Landing, nobles and smallfolk alike, deem Aemon, a bastard who does not worship nor believe in The Faith, as holy. That day the first crack, that will result in the splitting of the title of knighthood from The Faith, forms.
Author's Note: Oof, this chapter is my longest one in this fic, and tbh it kind of got away from me. Every time I thought I was done the ideas kept flowing until we have this. You guys would have gotten it last week but I fell sick and I'm only better now. Still here it is, the latest chapter. As usual, tell me what you guys think.
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