Chapter 9: Chapter 8: The CruelNotes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"My beloved witch of a sister."
-Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, on her older sister Queen Visenya Targaryen
104 AC, Skies above Blackwater Bay
"I think I've gotten the hang of it!" I shouted, spurring Silverwing into overtaking Vermithor and replacing it at the head of the V-formation we flew in.
"Excellent, niece. You're rather talented at this." Uncle Vaegon praised from behind me. He had spent the past hour coaching me on how to fly a dragon. While he had no dragon and no intention of claiming one, he did spend a large amount of his childhood riding them. As such, he could teach me how to direct Silverwing. How to tug her reins, how to command her to fly higher or lower, accelerate or decelerate. Essentially the bare basics on how to fly. There were supposedly more commands, like doing barrel rolls, loop-de-loops and hard braking, but those were rarely used outside of showing off or warzones. But Vaegon had only ever flown in peacetime and was unfamiliar with and unwilling to try the commands. I'd probably get someone else to teach them to me. Rhaenys preferably. Daemon if I had to.
The Queen that Never Was, and how she loathed that nickname, was an experienced warrior, putting down rebellious lordlings and pirates through her grandfather's reign. While many claimed that the Conciliator's reign was peaceful and no wars worth note was fought, that men could see their grandchildren born without ever having touched a spear, people forgot that that had been conflicts. King Jaehaerys was just so good at nipping them in the bud, that most didn't even know that they happened. At best, there were 'rumours' of 'disputes'. And Rhaenys was his latest instrument of choice for breaking these would-be troublemakers.
When the Triarchy moved in to conquer the Stepstones with our blessing, we didn't just send a blessing. House Targaryen deployed Rhaenys and Daemon to the Stepstones to launch lightning raids on the pirates infesting the archipelago, preventing them from mustering a sufficient response to the Tyroshi, Myrish and Lysene fleets moving in and conquering the islands. We kept the sortie on the down-low as Dorne was practically next door, and memories of the Fourth Dornish War were still fresh. Nobody wanted to accidentally spark another war.
"Hey Rhae!" Laena called from atop Vermithor.
"Yeah?" I shouted to be heard over the wind, turning to face her.
"I fucking love flying! What about you?" The Velaryon scion declared gleefully.
"It's certainly something else!" I shouted back. "I've been ruined for horses and carriages now!"
There was a ripple of laughter among the group.
"Yes, that does tend to happen." Great-grandfather said fondly. "Your great-grandmother must have spent more time on Silverwing's saddle than that of a horse."
"I don't blame her! Silverwing is amazing! How can I ever walk on the ground again without feeling like I'm crippled?" I always had a fascination with flying. It was a source of great wonder for Alice and I. Flight was something that all humans instinctively desired. That desire for freedom, to be as a bird, where the sky was literally the limit. And now that I had wings beneath my body, the feeling was indescribable. There were just so many sensations. The waves and sea seen from above, ships the size of toy cars. The rush of the wind and slipstream, flowing through my hair. The awe from the rest of the world, staring up at us. No wonder why the Valyrians had called themselves gods among men.
"Agreed!" Laena sighed longingly. "Rhae, can I get my own dragon? Please? I know I'm only your handmaiden but..."
"Say no more." I firmly said. "You're not just my handmaiden. You're my best friend and cousin. If you want a dragon, then you'll get a dragon."
Laena let out a great squeal of joy at that. I rolled my eyes as she got chewed out by our great-grandfather for shouting in his ear, turning to face the front again.
"We'll find one for you at Dragonstone!" I told her.
I never heard what she said in reply, as Daemon flew up front.
"There!" The Rogue Prince said, pointing at a spit of rock that was fast approaching. "We're at Dragonstone."
"Race you there!" I cheekily called out, ordering Silverwing to pick up the pace, boosting past Caraxes with a laugh.
———
104 AC, Dragonstone
God damn Caraxes and it's speed. The Blood Wyrm was the second fastest flyer among the dragons after Meleys, and Daemon proved it.
As the rest made to land, Uncle Vaegon mentioned that he wished to fly for a bit longer, so I begun a slow lap around Dragonstone.
As we flew, I took in the island itself. It was twice the size of Singapore, though the center of the island was dominated by the massive Dragonmont and lesser mountains and hills surrounding it, so in the end, Singapore probably had more usable land than it. There was a natural deepwater harbour, where half the Royal Fleet was berthed, and a medium sized port town nearby it. A dozen or so smaller fishing villages surrounded the island on black sand beaches between tall basalt cliffs.
And then there was the castle itself. Situated at the foot of the Dragonmont, Dragonstone castle was made of black fused stone, held together without mortar. Grim and gothic, and covered with enough statues of mythological creatures to fill several zoos, it fulfilled every edgelord fantasy I had as a teenager. The Red Keep was larger, and boasted taller towers, though Dragonstone's indestructible curtain walls were thrice as high as the Red Keep's.
"An impressive sight? Is it not?" Uncle Vaegon asked.
"Indeed it is. Tell me, uncle. Do you know what secrets this castle holds?" I curiously asked as we flew past it. "This is where it all began. From Aenar the Exile to Aegon the Conqueror. Surely it's more than just our ancestral home."
"Well spotted, niece." The Archmaester praised. "This castle was first built by the Valyrian Freehold as a border fortress at their westernmost frontier some four hundred years ago, using dragons and sorcery to fuse the indestructible Dragonstone together. This material is also the source of the fortress' name.
"Two centuries ago, a generation before the Doom of Valyria, Aenar Targaryen abruptly sold all of his lands and material possessions before using it to purchase Dragonstone, after which, he abruptly left Valyria with five dragons, including Balerion, his entire family, and whatever wealth he had left." Vaegon explained.
"Ah yes, the famous dragon dreams of Daenys the Dreamer." I drily said. "I'd call it bullshit if it weren't for the fact that Valyria blew up a decade or so later. Our ancestor was clearly onto something."
"I'm glad you agree. According to stories my father told me, his father told him that Aenar supposedly wrote down his reasons on doing so, and compiled all of Daenys' dreams into a book."
"And we do not have such books?"
"Possibly. We may have, but I trust you remember how my father rose into power?" Vaegon asked.
"Maegor the Cruel." I recited instinctively. I wondered what he had to do with this. He was the very last King I expected to read, well... anything.
"Exactly. What few pieces of writing our ancestor Rhaenys Targaryen has to her name make reference of a secret family vault, the location of which was known solely to the Lord or King of our house, and their appointed heir. But my father does not know the location of such a vault, because..." he trailed off leadingly.
"Maegor was keeping him a prisoner." I realised. "So Maegor never told Great-grandfather the location of the vault."
"Exactly!" Vaegon said, snapping his fingers. "A secret that we have hidden from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Supposedly an entire library of spellbooks and artifacts. Dragonlore and treasures of Valyria. Visenya Targaryen was the last sorcerer in our family, and with it, she could do great things. Light glass candles and peer through them. Fan the last spark of life into a bonfire. Beguile men and beast alike, and maintain her youth and beauty until the last year of her life."
"Fascinating. I suppose it makes sense, Maegor was invincible until his mother died. But do you have proof of such a claim?" I asked, forcibly faking the nonchalant calm in my voice. I believed him of course, but I needed more concrete evidence.
"Rhaenys' writings all make no secret that Visenya was a sorcerer. Apparently their father was one as well, and he taught Visenya everything she knew." Vaegon stated. "And my grandmother, aunt and parents all make references to Visenya's one apprentice in the art; Tyanna of the Tower. Using it, she was able to curse Maegor's children in the wombs of their mothers, and even, after her death, cause a creature of shadow to crawl out of her womb and kill Maegor in his own throne room. Aunt Rhaena supposedly saw this happen, and fled the throne room before she could be implicated for the crime, letting another Black Bride find the corpse." Uncle Vaegon softly said.
Crap, that sounded a lot like Melisandre's shadow babies. Suddenly Visenya being a witch was a lot more believable. I shivered even though it was a warm autumn day.
"And all of them unanimously agree that Tyanna and Visenya were sorcerers?" I asked.
"Yes. My aunt has told me of at least three occasions where Tyanna birthed shadow children to kill rebel lords. My grandmother has collaborated the story. And while my aunt is one thing, my grandmother was not prone to flights of fancy. I believe them. If they say that those women were sorcerers, then sorcerers they were." Vaegon agreed, voice utterly calm.
"And the reason why I never knew of this?" Okay, hysteria was beginning to creep into my voice. I remembered my breathing exercises and made my heart rate slow.
"Father ordered the knowledge suppressed. Of all his children, only I was told, as he believed that history, no matter how horrid, should be preserved in some form. To prevent repeats of the same mistake. Family secrets, if you will." He replied, voice nonchalant.
"And yet now you've told me." I whispered, fear creeping into my lungs.
"Indeed. You are the first and only soul I've told of this." Uncle Vaegon cheerfully agreed. "My father holds you in high esteem, and he told me to hide nothing of our family's sordid past from you."
"Any other secrets you would wish to share?" I asked, rubbing my forehead. "What you've told me will infest my nightmares for years to come."
"I have just three." Vaegon ominously said. "First, the Alchemists Guild was sold a single scroll from our hidden vault, and with it they created Wildfire. Second, when Aenar moved into Dragonstone, he ordered it renovated and expanded for his purposes. And third, Aegon's crown wasn't forged in Valyria."
I went utterly still in the saddle.
"Sweet dreams, niece." Vaegon Targaryen smilingly said.
Notes:
The reason why Canon Targaryens don't know about Maegor is that Jaehaerys only told Vaegon, in the same way Barth only recorded what happened to Aerea in one writing and never referred to it again. In Canon, Vaegon died without passing on the information. Here, he tells Rhaenyra.