Lyanna Stark (101 A.C. Seventh Moon)
Harrenhall - Courtyard
Here she was again, at Harrenhal, a place she always seemed to drift back toward. It was where she had first seen Rhaegar, found her first love, and her second. She wasn't sure she would find a third; she couldn't even fathom it. Baelon death was far too fresh for her to even think about it. Aemon had fallen into despair, burdened by guilt, and it seemed that only with Balerion had her son found peace. The fact that the old dragon communicated with her son was something she had never gotten used to, but at least Balerion provided Aemon with advice and friendship.
The keep of Harrenhal was vast, more than large enough to hold the Great Council to choose a new heir. In truth, she knew that her grandchild Jaehaerys truly wanted to be the heir. Her eldest child, Aemon, was his grandfather's favorite. Aemon was dutiful and strong, and there was the prophecy of Aegon, her beloved, which had been told to her. Aemon also rode The Black Dread and had a bond not seen since the Conqueror himself.
She then thought back on what Her Goodfather had said. 'My dear daughter. I would name your son as heir, but he is too young, and I am too old to last until he reaches his manhood. His line will be that of the kings one day. His children, born to him and Laena, will marry those of Viserys and Aemma, or his son or daughter will be the heir with Laena if Rhaenys is chosen as the heir.' He had said this as he patted her hand. Her goodfather smiled with affection. It was something she expected. Baelon had told of the Song of Ice and Fire prophecy. Aemon was the embodiment of the song. If the past were better, he would stop the darkness that was to come. But corruption and power-hungry bastards had the world that was to face the darkness into chaos.'
The walls of Harrenhal loomed large as the lords of the realm arrived to offer their condolences. She bore it as she should, always the widow of Baelon Targaryen, Princess Lyanna Stark Targaryen, mother of Aemon and Visneya Targaryen. However, her demeanor changed when her brother Benjen Stark was announced to be arriving.
"Your Graces, I am honored to join you at Harrenhal, though I am sorry it must be under these circumstances," the Lord of Winterfell announced as he bowed to the gathering. "Welcome to Harrenhal, Lord Benjen of Winterfell and Warden of the North," Viserys said, being the oldest of Baelon's children. He had the duty of welcoming the lord along with Ser Lyonel Strong.
"Dear sister, I am so sorry. I know you loved him," Benjen Stark said as they embraced. Her younger brother resembled her previous Benjen so much that when she had grown up with him, she felt that her previous younger brother was reborn into him again.
"Where are my nephews? Did you bring them?" She asked, hoping to meet her brother's children, even though she had already arranged for them to travel to the North together. She didn't want to leave Aemon alone and longed to see the North again.
"No, Rickon is the head now, and Bennard is still too young to make the journey. Lysa is with the boys and is their regent in my absence. It will be a wonderful moment when you and my children finally meet," Benjen said with a smile. She looked forward to that day. It was still hard, but seeing her new brother brought her some joy.
"Ah, I would have loved to meet them and Lysa as well. But I suppose we will in a few moons," she said, holding her brother's hands. "Yes, we will, Lya. Where are my niece and nephew?" He asked, his voice full of excitement.
"Aemon often finds solace in the sky, soaring with Balerion," she confided, her voice heavy with grief. "The loss of his father has weighed heavily upon him, Benjen. Words are scarce from his lips, and only in the company of those dragons does he seem to find any semblance of peace. As for Visneya, she's but a babe, too young to have known her father," she added, her voice trembling as her brother's comforting embrace enveloped her.
"I'm sorry, it should have been different, but the gods had other plans, Lya. Returning to the North, I hope it will bring you and the children comfort," Benjen remarked, his eyes reflecting a sense of nostalgia. "Your memory is held dear by all, and Mother's impatience has reached its peak; she yearns to be reunited with her daughter and grandchildren," he chuckled softly, using his sleeve to wipe away her tears.
"And to think, my nephew has formed a bond with Dread," Benjen mused, his disbelief evident. "When I read your letter, I thought it a jest, a five-year-old flying on such a fearsome creature. But regardless, I look forward to meeting them in due time. It shall do Aemon good to find respite in the North, away from the burdens of court and politics," he added with a warm smile.
"Come, dear sister, let us share a meal and discuss the joys and tribulations of our children," he suggested. "Yes, brother, I suppose we should get away from all the politics. You'll be able to meet Visenya as well; she should be in my chambers," she said, and they both left to go to their
Benjen Stark was an uncle in both my times, a good man, a well-loved Warden of The North, and the other First Ranger of The Night Watch. His ascendancy was earlier than that in the time he had lived. Benjen Stark was the brother of Ellard Stark and the second son and third child of Rickard Stark. Second son of Alaric Stark and Dysa Mormont and uncle to Edric Stark, the eldest and only child of Bennard Stark. He died at age seven and ten, and on that way, Rickard Stark succeeded his nephew as Warden of the North. Rickard Stark, my grandfather, whom I never got to meet, died in 99 A.C. In the same year as Good Queen Alysanne. Some around our family called the Year of Crow for the three deaths in my family.
However, Ellard Stark died young this time, and his mother was, for a time, the heir to Winterfell until Baelon Targaryen caught her eye. She married the heir to Iron Throne, making her give up her claim to favor of Benjen so she could marry his father, who she had grown to love. So in the year 101 A.C., Benjen Stark, instead of his older brother Ellard Stark, came to the Great Council.
A page out of the Journal of Aemon Targaryen The White Dragon
(The stark Family tree is to be found on my .)
Benjen Stark 101 A.C.
Halls of Harrenhall
After leaving Lyanna's chambers, he wandered through the vast halls and corridors of Harrenhal. His thoughts wander to Lyanna, and in succession 'Lyanna's fire had dimmed, and she was still deep in grief over her husband's death. He had only briefly met Baelon during the tournament and the wedding planning, and they hadn't had enough time to get to know each other. He had met Baelon's two oldest sons, and it seemed that Viserys was a good man. However, he had made it clear back at Winterfell that he would support Rhaenys for the Iron Throne, given her strong will and Valyrian appearance, combined with Baratheon's black hair. He had no qualms about a woman ruling, as many Northern women were more than capable, as evidenced by his mother and wife. His sister had given up her claim for him, as she had been their father's heir for eleven years. His father hadn't changed it since his birth. Only after her marriage to Baelon did he become heir. A change his sister had never regretted, and the birth of two wonderful children and the love she held for Baelon, even if it had now regrettably ended with Baelon's death.
The other reason he had was that Rheanys eldest child, Laena, was betrothed to his nephew, which meant the boy would become a future king-consort. It would mark the first time a Stark-blooded king would sit on a throne in the South, at least to his knowledge. So, amidst the lords and knights of summer, he would vote for Rhaenys Targaryen at this Great Council.'
Stepping outside to breathe fresh air, he was startled by the two enormous shadows cast over Harrenhal. Vhagar, around 120 meters long, was impressive enough, but The Black Dread, Balerion, was a colossal beast, easily double Vhagar's size. To his amazement, he spotted a small boy with silver-gold hair perched atop Balerion. It was his nephew, Aemon.
"By the old gods," he exclaimed in awe. He wasn't the only one gaping at the two circling dragons. A voice from behind interrupted his reverie. "Well, Lord Stark, what do you think? Ready to host The Black Dread." It was Prince Viserys.
"Your Grace, a pleasure," he replied. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
"No, you don't, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's not the only one. Vhagar has been keeping close to the boy since my father's passing," Viserys sighed. "Every time my brother takes to the sky, Vhagar joins him. So don't be surprised if she eventually joins you in the North."
"As long as we don't see a third one," he quipped, though he wondered what other surprises the dragons might have in store. "Well, Dreamfyre, my late great-aunt's dragon, has joined my father and flies with him, especially when he's with little Visenya. So don't be surprised if a dragon from Dragonstone joins you in the future," Viserys added, his tone tinged with sadness when he spoke of his father.
"Shall we go and welcome my brother? I'm sure he'd like to meet his other uncle. Step-uncle, I suppose. And when we're alone, call me Viserys. We're family, after all," the prince suggested. They might not be related by blood, but the bonds forged in other ways were just as strong, if not stronger.
As they left the castle, they found the fields outside Harrenhal filled with tents and pavilions. However, a space to the castle's right was reserved for the dragons, and five of them were already there. Benjen didn't know their names except for the unmistakable bronze fury, a dragon nearly as large as Vhagar but with a pale blue hue and silver streaks. The other three were smaller. Being so close to these massive creatures made him more nervous than he cared to admit.
"Viserys, are these the dragons with riders?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Yes and no. Dreamfyre is the only one without a rider. As I mentioned, Visenya might be bonded with the she-dragon. The brown one is mine, and her name is Goynogar. It means 'earth dragon' in High Valyrian," Viserys explained, but their conversation was interrupted by the resounding roars of Vhagar and Balerion as they landed, shaking the very ground. Balerion lowered his head and shoulder to allow his nephew, Aemon, to dismount. The boy bore Targaryen features, but his Stark grey eyes stood out.
Aemon approached Balerion and began petting the dragon as if it were a hound, murmuring something. Viserys stifled a laugh as the prince watched his reaction to Aemon with the giant dragon. "Oh, I know, he's done that plenty of times, leaving people with open mouths. His bond with Balerion is unlike any other, stronger than any other rider's bond, much to Daemon's annoyance," Viserys chuckled.
Suddenly, a gasp escaped Viserys as he watched Aemon walk over to Vhagar and repeat the same affectionate gestures. "I can't believe it; even Vhagar seems to accept him. Usually, riderless dragons can't be approached like that, but I suppose Vhagar sees my father in my brother or wants his attention. Then again, she wouldn't be foolish enough to attack him, as it would likely end in her demise," Viserys mused.
"I can see that. Balerion is the largest creature I've ever seen," He admitted, still in awe of the dragon. He had immense respect for his nephew, who somehow commanded respect and affection of such a fearsome creature.
"Valonqar, Kepus," Aemon said in Valyrian, embracing him. "It means 'Brother' and 'Uncle,'" the boy explained, his Stark grey eyes filled with warmth. "It's good to meet you finally, Uncle. It's been a long time coming."
He returned the embrace and said, "The feeling is mutual, nephew. I wish it were under happier circumstances." The boy's mood seemed to brighten momentarily, but then he grew somber. "What's troubling you, Aemon? You looked happy for a moment there."
"I had hoped to show Father what I've learned and new Valyrian architecture. Something that hasn't been built seen since the fall of Valyria," Aemon said, his voice filled with sorrow, and tears began to well up.
He hugged the boy tightly and said, "Oh, Aemon, you'll find peace with the pain in time. The only thing you can do is accept that he's gone and make sure you keep his memory alive. That's what I do for your grandfather, Rickard." He gently stroked the boy's head, offering whatever comfort he could.
Aemon Targaryen (101 A.C.)
Harrenhal
He sat on his bed in his room, reflecting on the day's events. 'Meeting his uncle was nice, except he had cried. Deep down, it seemed history wasn't changing. The only things that were different were him, his mother, his sister, and Balerion. He had been with his father for most days in the year 100 A.C., but the gods didn't seem fit to change the fate of Baelon Targaryen.
But he would keep to his vow and do his duty to his family. Laena was already part of that duty, his betrothed and someone he had grown to like, and he had been with him when his father passed. The pretty purple eyes looked at him kindly and had comforted him in his grief.
Rhaenyra, his two years younger niece, was starting to become a young beauty, no wonder the realm called her the realm delight. He only hoped his sweet good-sister would live. Rhaenyra needed her mother as long as possible. Aemma was only 19 namedays and had already been through three pregnancies. With only one given to them, Rhaenyra, he hoped the one she had now in her belly would give them the peace of having a son or another daughter to bring the family some much-needed happiness.
The Great Council of 101 A.C. The famous event in the history books. His mother had told him his uncle would declare for Rhaenys, so one day, Stark blood through him would sit the Throne in the North. Funny, it was almost 200 years later, and it would be so if Sansa had married Joffrey.' He growled involuntarily as he thought back on that rotten soul.
'No, if Rhaenys was chosen, he knew it would happen deep down. Too many great lords, and many in the South, were against naming a woman heir. It only happened when there weren't any direct descendants. He never thought it was a cock that would make a good heir. His mother was heir for a time before she married his father. This vote would decide the heir, and if history were to be followed, his older brother would be the heir.' His thoughts were interrupted when a knock came at the door. "Come in," He said.
His sworn shield, Ser Harrold Westerling, came in. Harrold had been a good friend and Kingsguard to him, was like an uncle to him, and he had enjoyed training with him when his father couldn't. "The King asked for you, my Prince." Ser Harrold said, looking at him with a face of compassion.
"Of course, Ser Harrold, let's go." He said, and they made their way to the king's chambers.
"Ser Ryam, where to see the King, he summed me." He said to an old knight. Ser Ryam opened the door, allowing him to enter. Ser Harrold gave him a nod as he waited outside.
"Aemon, please come to sit by the bed. I have to talk to you," Jaehaerys said. The older man looked as frail as he had ever been. The loss of his children and wife and ruling the realm had taken a toll on his grandfather's health.
"Of course, Grandfather," He said, holding his grandfather's hand. "Aemon, I know you are young, but you have always had this sense of responsibility, something to be proud of, my boy." His grandfather said, and his heart swelled with pride at his words.
"When Viserys tried to bond with Balerion but didn't, I was sure Balerion would pass away. But after your birth, the old dragon flew again, recovered from his wounds, and even grew large. But what was the most amazing was your bond. Not even Aegon had that with Black Dread, or I had that with my Bronze Fury. There is something only the heir and the king know. A prophecy, a dream, is the true reason Aegon conquered all of Westeros. Not what has been written in histories. It's a duty carried by our family since Aegon's time."
'What? Aegon had conquered Westeros based on prophecy. Not this again,' he thought angrily and confusedly. 'What had Melisandra said again? "Prophecies are fickle things; you can read their signs all you want, but in the end, you can still be wrong about their truth." She was right about that; she had done so many things in the name of prophecy. Buring a young girl, turning an honorable man into a burning fanatic.' As he thought about the red witch fanatic words,
"Aemon, pick the up dagger." His grandfather asked, and his blood ran cold when he saw the dragger lying in the barzier. He had seen it before on Jaehaerys his hip. But now he saw what kind of dagger it was and which dragger it was. It was the very same dagger that had slit his through all those years ago.
"Read it, please. What describe on?" "From my line comes the song of ice and fire." He said, visibly gulping as he read the Valyrian Gyplshe aloud.
"You are, that your line, my boy, will lead us through the dark, either by you or a future child of yours. Aegon dreamed as Daenys did. He dreamed of the end of men. It is to begin with a terrible winter. A gusting wind will come from it, and Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. Whatever is inside those winds will destroy the world of the living." The old king said, half out of breath. It made more sense now why he had sent so many faith-militant rebels to the wall.
The prophecy was probably lost in the dance. Rhaenyra was the heir and probably never passed on the prophecy to her son Aegon, or she did. It was lost with either Baelor or Daeron. It was also something his mother had said. Rhaegar thought the child in her belly was the prophecy of Ice and fire that he and his mother would bring forth that child. But, well, everything went wrong with rebellion, didn't it? The prophecy was once again lost after the death of his mother and father after Rhaegar had discovered it. He was the child of Ice and Fire, the gods sent back to prevent the dragon's dying out, and was he also to protect the Song of Ice and Fire? He wondered as he looked at the dagger.
"If our world is to survive, all of Westeros must stand united against it. A Targaryen must be seated on the iron throne. Promise you will keep the prophecy and the realm and unite Aemon. I trust Aemon, you would be my heir if you were old enough, but Regency can't rule Westeros, and I don't trust Daemon not to do something. Our house would tear itself apart because the only thing that can bring down our house is itself. Promise me, Aemon, Promise me." His grandfather said with a cough of exhaustion.
'Damn, all gods, why is always power man's grave to written into the history books. Never duty to kin or family. Even his uncle wasn't doing his duty. He sent the true heir and nephew to the wall without telling him what he was giving up. He cared more for his fat friend.' He thought bitterly. He wondered if he would ever forgive his uncle for that betrayal.
"Yes, grandfather, I promise. I will make sure the realm is united." He said to him and kissed his grandfather's head. His grandfather smiled, sighed deeply in relief, and fell into a deep sleep.
The following day - the announcement of the vote
'The top contenders were Rhaenys Targaryen and his brother Viserys. There were even a few bastards making a claim, even a child of Essos, a son of Seara Targaryen, and his aunt, who was married to a noble in Volantis. In total, fourteen Succession claims were heard.' His thoughts wandered over it as he waited for the votes to be counted.
"Your Graces," intoned one of the maesters solemnly, "the votes have been tallied." Silence descended upon the room as the maester approached, bearing a sealed box that held the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.
He read the scroll, and his grandfather spoke to the crowd. "It is declared by all lords paramount, and lords vassals of the Seven Kingdoms, that prince Viserys Targaryen be made Prince of Dragonstone and heir to Iron Throne."
The crowd applauded him, and he gave his brother a broad smile, congratulating him and showing respect to his future good mother. Let's it all end differently, he prayed silently as he looked up to the broken sealing of Harrenhal's great hall.
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