Aemon Targaryen (109 A.C. Ninth Moon)
Kingswood
He woke a little disoriented as he had been traveling for two days and had a late feast the previous night. The sight he woke up against was something. He had yearned for the moment Laena had left his side. Rhaenyra, her warm body still pressed against him felt relaxing, and it felt right. Dragons were meant to be together.
The sun was coming up, and a slight glow fell upon Rhaenyra's pavilion. Rays of sunlight escaped through the gaps at the sides of the pavilion. They hit her hair, making it shine and making her even more beautiful than she already was.
He trailers her body with his fingers under the covers and gently touches her smooth skin. His hands traced past her cheek. He felt the urge to kiss her. He did, and his lips connected with her cheek. Her eyes opened then, and those perfect purple eyes looked back at him.
"Morning," he mumbled toward her as he kissed her on those pretty lips. As did he, he enclosed her in an embrace, his hands traveling down her back. "Aemon" escaped from Rhaenyra's lips as he found her cunt. He found her clit, and more little gaps escaped her.
"Nice to awake like this." He purred in her ear. "Yes," Came as an answer, and she sounded very lusty. He felt encouraged and dipped a finger inside of her, finding her wet. "Aemon." She moaned, finding her lips too much to resist. He kissed her again. He enjoyed kissing her, and Rhaenyra matured more into a woman when he was gone. Even if before, she was already a true Valyrian beauty.
"Please, yes. Kesa." Rhaenyra moaned as she came. "Damn, by Meraxes." He did not want to leave there and found his desire building. He speared her legs eagerly, finding them willingly open. His cock was already hard as he pushed it into his wife's pretty cunt.
"Nyra." He moaned, and he felt her warm, slick channel around his cock. Moans and gasp an escaping, Rhaenyra, his cock went up and down her cunt, he found it a very pleasant place. His hands found her face, cradling as he kissed her, and it didn't take long for his tongue to join with hers.
He groaned as his pleasure built up. Having not lain with a woman for almost nine moons did weaken his resistance to his wife's wonderfully tight and wet cunt. "Aemon, are going make it difficult for us to go hunting. You make your wife wanton whore for her husband." Well, those words she spoke did it. He grunted, as thrust deep as seed shot out, filling her up. He did go for a couple more thurst, making his wife moan his name as did.
As he finished, he lay atop her, whispering, "Forgive me, my sweet, I couldn't resist. You looked irresistible as you slept, my perfect Princess."
"Well, you were equally irresistible yesterday," she murmured in return. "I had to bide my time until we went to bed until I could have you all to myself. Do you know how maddening it was after almost three years without you?"
"I know. I wish I had been here instead, with you and Laena. I also wanted to support you when you went to the Vale. You were a true queen, fighting for your subjects and kin. I'm proud to call Rhaenyra Targaryen, savior of the Vale, as my wife and niece." He said as he stared into those polls of purple. He remembered when he read her letter in the Vale, and his heart dropped a few stairs.
"Thank you. Your mother told me the same thing. I was inspired by what was right and to fight like you and Laena. Yet war is something I can do without from now on. I would rather even face the battles my mother always spoke of. Then return to blood, fire, and carnage of battles in war." He smiled at her at her words.
"True, I can understand you. Fighting can be horrible, and on a dragon's back, you sometimes feel the weight of it even more. Yet sometimes, when I fought on foot with my men. There is a drunken happiness to it that takes away everything, and the heat of battle only remains at that moment. It is a quietness in the storm, so to speak." He explained and had felt some of those rare moments in the battles that he had fought. That was just the battle, and nothing else matters. Your mind is clear, and you just fight and command.
"Hmm, it's an interesting thought and even a bit poetic, and here I thought you weren't a poet. A singer, yes, but not a poet." He smirked at her antics. "Ah, there is my wise-ass wife." He said with a laugh, and he started to tickle her. "Stop, Aemon," She squealed at him, but he paid no heed.
"Aemon!" She giggled, and it was a delight seeing her laugh like that. Finally, he relented, leaning down to kiss her once more.
Bovenkant formulier
He sighed as he sat up, reluctant to leave the pavilion. "Come, let's dress and break our fast. We must go hunting if we wish to avoid the main party. If we linger, your father will drag us along. I don't mind him, but hunting, like they do it with the King. Has never been my preference, all far too formal to be enjoyable." He spoke to her, dragging her up from under the covers.
"Fine, as said before, you make concentrating difficult." She said as she came out from under the covers. Her naked form was bare for him. "Say the woman who has her gorgeous tits bare." he retorted with a smirk, pulling on his clothes.
"You!" she gasped, pretending to be outraged. He silenced her protest with a kiss, her hands finding their place around his neck.
"Satisfied now, my dear?" he asked with a grin. "If not, don't worry. When we return to the castle, I'll ensure everyone hears your cries of pleasure. "Rhaenyra's cheeks flushed, but she grinned back at him. "I might just take you up on that offer, husband," she replied, finally starting to dress herself.
The Hunt
"Criston? How long has it been since we hunted? I can't remember when we went whaling or shooting the sea birds at The Skulls." He questioned because he couldn't recall. "The Skulls, My Prince, we roasted those puffins we shoot. I remember the taste, very similar to duck, perhaps better." He smirked as he remembered. They went together and had been hunting for two, scaling rock and cliffs, and then they found the puffin colony. They shot a couple of the birds they had roasted two and some of the eggs. The rest of their catch was shared with the rest of the camp when it became one big stew of puffin.
"Cheers to the puffins of The Skulls." He cheered with a smile. "Well, perhaps one day you can bring me on one of your hunting trips. They seem fun," Rhaenyra questioned. "So Ser have done much hunting in Stormlands and the Dronish Marshes?" Rhaenyra asked their White Knight.
"I have Princess, although most were mostly in the company of Lord Dondarion. They weren't merely as fun and thrilling as hunting with your husband. He knows what he is doing and is more for the sport of it than the killing. Although, when rallying the whale we caught during the whaling hunt, he cheered in happiness because of that kill." Criston spoke with happiness in his voice, and over these past three years, he had become one of his best friends. He wondered if this was what Rhaegar Targaryen had felt with Ser Arthur: this true brotherhood in arms and a trusted friendship.
Then they all spot and became, as Ghost, who had been leading them, a potential target, stood still. He felt in their bond. Something was right in front of them, in that patch of bush. He looked around the spot and then saw why Ghost had stopped. There were groveling pots around the bush, uprooted earth. "Boar," He whispered to Rhaenyra, who nodded and stared right ahead.
"Stay behind Ghost, and if they come, spear them as hard as you can, and if you fall, get away from its tusks, draw a knife, and just stab." She nodded, and then he gave the signal to Criston, who trotted toward one end of the bush and he to another end. They trotted in the bush, and he eyed the area, just waiting for the right time to strike. The Valyrian Steel boar spear was ready. It felt right. The lightness of the spear was perfect.
There was a loud squealing sound, and a group of boars jumped out from under the brush. There were around perhaps fifteen, maybe more. There were many little ones, but one big one, a big male, and his focus went on the big male boar with huge tusks. He bit into his horse's sides and rode toward it, then boar, seeing his intent being maybe half the size of his horse, came toward him. All angry muscles were run toward him, his tusks glinting in the sun.
He took a deep breath and aimed just before the boar hit him. He threw his aim precisely. The spear flew deftly out of his hand. The spear hit him just behind its neck, the Valyrian Steel slicing through bone and flesh like butter. It gave a loud grunt, but it died almost instantly. The boar convulsed and grunted a couple more times, but it was dead in less than a minute.
He then looked to see no other boars around, yet squeals and a growl in on where he had come from. "I will be back for you." He said as he road toward the sounds.
As he arrived, he saw what could only be described as one word chaos. Ghost, his maw red with blood, as helt a boar down. Rhaenyra was hacking at and stabbing with a knife into another boar. Behind her, Criston looked amazed at the sight and couldn't really disagree.
He dismounted and walked over to Rhaenyra, touching her shoulder. "I think you got him now." She turned and looked at him. Her clothes were as red as their house sigil, and even her neck was covered in blood. She then embraced him, and he closed her arms around him. She breathed heavily. He cared little he was now covered in blood. Bringing her comfort was far more important.
"Bloodrush, it's normal, especially if it's your first time." He said to her and mouthed to Criston. 'what happened?' as he nodded to the boar. But before he could speak, Rhaenyra spoke lowly. "I thought it was dead." Ah, that explained it.
"And in your quick thinking, you gutted it. You did well, even if you lost yourself a little bit. You are to be a Queen, they won't stay unclean, and you already have shed blood in the name of duty." He said as he kissed her on her head. She just nodded and buried herself beg into his chest. They stayed there for a while until they broke apart.
"You did well, Princess. You have the quick thinking of a knight and his courage. I'm sorry. I thought the strike had killed it. It did not, as it was you who finished it off. You have the honor of claiming it as your kill." He smiled at Criston's words. The man was right. It was her kill now, even if his friend had speared it. "Yes, impressive feet, a boar kill on your first proper hunt." He added.
Rhaenyra seemed to have returned from the shock a little, and a small, appreciated smile appeared. He then ordered stretches to be built so the boars could be taken back to the camp. However, they first needed to be dressed.
"So let's dress them, considering we will not return immediately to camp." He said, and he got an inquisitive look from Rhaenyra. "Dress them?" She asked, confused, and received a small laugh from him and Ser Criston. "We gutted them and removed the organs. It preserves the meat better." She stared wide as if she didn't hear what he said.
"Come, I'll show you." He said, and she just nodded as he showed her how it was done. Yep, here they were together, gutting a boar, a princess and prince of the Iron Throne.
Otto Hightower (109 A.C. Ninth Moon)
Kingswood
This was all supposed to bring the realm around Aegon. To build support around the firstborn son of the King, and yet fucking Aemon Targaryen had returned. Alive and well, only a scar that made the man more man follow than he already was.
"Did the king consider your proposal to bring Visenya into the fold?" Hobert asked as they rode in the collum to wear the supposed White Hart that had been captured. "No, the King wasn't convinced. He was more intrigued by the proposal of Lord Strong and Aemon." He had heard it from people who were close enough to the daisy. He understood now why Lyonel had been so supportive of Aemon, a marriage to sister, a king, and for now, suppose it was the heir. It was a match any lord would want.
"Really? Lord Strong has made a play. So he is aligned now with Aemon, and from what you have told me, Lord Lyman, my own vassals are aligned against us." Hobert spoke the last part in irritation.
"He is, and he mostly speaks of the benefits of conquest. However, I suspect that if Aemon acted rashly, as Daemon did over the years, he would speak against him. Yet even if that would be the case, he will not act against the King's wishes." Lord Lyman was loyal to the crown and served its wills; he had been on the council for even longer than him. The man wouldn't turn on the oath he swore; he would only do so if the King commanded a change, even if it meant going against the wishes of his liege lord.
"It's the fault of that Stringer, the damn idiot got in his head to sleep with a princess of the realm. Then, he challenges for the right to a trial by combat and gets himself killed by The Old King. Since then, Lord Beesbury has tried to make up for the mistakes of his nephew. Even if by set mistakes he became the lord." His brother spoke of the incident that shocked the realm. 'How many of the princesses of the time of Jaehaerys haven't problems? The only ones he recalled who didn't were Daenerys and Alyssa the King's mother. The other four had caused issues for The Old King, but he was grateful his daughter had done her duty. Bearing the King a son and caring the possibility of another.' He thought happily.
"Yes, at least it made us look good in the eyes of the King. We are their overlords, after all. Even if the King has their loyalty now more than we do." He answered his brother, who gave him a reluctant nod. Then, they arrived at the scene, dogs barking and squealing stag.
He road ahead and dismounted, and then he saw it. It wasn't a White Hart, just a large stag. It seems it wasn't the day opportunity to speak of how a white stag had shown himself to the true heir. The King dismounted and looked ill, it wasn't surprising considering the King's drinking last night. "Your Grace, He might not be White, but he a big lad." The oldest son of Lyonel said, breaking the silence that hung over the gathered group.
'At least Aemon wasn't here to be grand the kill.' He thought in relief as the Lord of Casterly Rock approached the King. "Your Grace for the kill." The man said as he presented the spear he had gifted the King. As the King had gifted Aemon his usual spear, he hunted with it.
The King walked toward the stag, which grunted and squealed as it was being held. The huntsman spoke words to wish he did not hear. He pointed to the chest of the stag, where it was to be hit.
The King cried and speared the stag, but he butchered the first strike. Hitting the animal but not striking a killing blow to the heart, and it squealed in agony. The huntsman pointed again, and the King struck again correctly.
The stag went down as the King pressed his spear down on the animal side. It died as it grunted a couple more times, but in the end, it was dead.
Then, as the King turned, the gathered all clapped. Even it was all a pitiful ceremony, and the King had done a terrible job at killing the animal. But when a king did a deed and hunted, you would clap, even if it was all for show. Then King walked up to his horse, and a resigning look appeared on his face. Or was relief he saw in that face. He did not know; he only hoped Aemon wouldn't have a successful hunt.
Criston Cole (109 A.C. Ninth Moon)
Kingslanding
'Returning to Westeros was a true blessing, and the peace of the Kingswood was a welcome respite. The hunt had proven fruitful thus far: two boars, three if one counted, the one Aemon's direwolf had taken down. Two pheasants, a rabbit, and a squirrel added to their bounty.
The biggest surprise was the Princess. He had only known her from what Aemon had told him. It was all true; she was not like a typical lady, unafraid to indulge in activities deemed unladylike. Watching her take down the boar and then laugh as she learned how to properly dress the kill in the woods had impressed him.
Yet, what struck him most was the happiness on his prince's face. The last time he had seen Aemon so joyful was when he had shared the news of Laena's pregnancy. Observing them together, he could see the love in their eyes. He was genuinely happy for his friend and vowed always to fight to protect his prince, friend, and family.' He thought as they rode through the woods.
Then they arrived at the top of the hill. They had spotted it before and wanted to see if there was a view. The hill was high enough so they could look far across parts of the Kingswood. As he watched the horizon, he saw the smoke plums of the hunting camp. "Princess, do you think your father has claimed his prize?" He asked. It had been the talk of the camp. 'It was either for Prince Aegon's Nameday or Aemon's return. Yet he didn't pay much attention to it. He only knew a true Aemon, the King's chosen heir.' He thought as he thought back on The White Hart.
"Criston, please call me Rhaenyra when we are alone. As for my father's prize, perhaps it could also be the imagination of the hunters." He was taken aback but called Aemon by name by the same request. "As you wish, Princess. I also call your husband by his name. I didn't know your stand on it. I wouldn't be saying anything else, and it wouldn't be proper if I did without permission or request." He said in answer.
As small studs were heard in the background, she wanted to say more. "Hunter imagination, Nyra?" Aemon quipped toward Rhaenyra, who looked wide-eyed at the creature. The White Hart was magnificent, its white hide and antlers shining in the sun. 'It must have come for his prince, this place here now.' He thought as he looked at it again in marvel.
"He is here for you; the gods are showing their favor." It seemed the Princess had the same answer.
Aemon looked at the magnificent animal and gave it a nod. The animal stared at him, an actual moment when the gods were giving their blessing. Or so, at least it seemed so to him. "Rest now, and be honored," Aemon said and, in a quick motion, threw his boar spear. The aim was true. He pierced the animal's heart and fell with a slight grunt but nothing else. It just died with no fuse.
"A wonderful throw, Aemon." He exclaimed as they dismounted and walked to the White Hart. "Well, it wouldn't have been as true as it is now, as the stag had bolted. I might have even missed or hit a different part of him. But it seemed to have come for me. As you said, Rhaenyra." Aemon murmured, his voice a little trembling.
"This will do well for you. It will show the Lords that the gods have chosen you. They all were chattering about what the White Hart meant. Now, it has shown itself to you. You are the heir to the throne, not Aegon or me, and it seems you were meant to rule. Not that I doubted it. You even fought for me to be the heir. Bu t you are Aemon Targaryen, The White Dragon, Rider of Balerion, and heir to the Iron Throne," Rhaenyra spoke with affection and conviction that brought a smile to his face.
"I know, yet doubts sometimes creep into one's mind. But with yours and Laena's love, I will fight those doubts and do my duty to the crown." Aemon replied, smiling at her.
As he watched them standing together, a future king and queen, with Rhaenyra steadfastly supporting Aemon, Criston felt an overwhelming urge to act. He took a deep breath and knelt before Aemon. "I swear toward the future King. With all my strength, I give my blood for you and yours. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard your secrets, obey your commands, ride at your side, and defend your name and honor."
"Rise, my friend. You needn't have done that," Aemon said, embracing him. "You have proven your loyalty to me many times over. Even though you already swore your oath to me in person. Your loyalty and counsel are all that matter to me."
"I only wish to serve you, as I have always done. I meant what I said. You are my King, now and until the end of my days, even if you are not one yet," He replied as they parted. "Very well, then. May your service be as true as your words today," Aemon said with a smile, and he gave his prince another bow.
Aemon turned his attention back to the White Hart. "Let's honor it and prepare him so we can take him back to camp."
Together, they set about the task, a quiet sense of the tasks settling between them as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees of the Kingswood. After Aemon had Ghost pull the White Hart, they returned to camp.
Lyanna Stark Targaryen (109 A.C. Ninth Moon)
Kingswood
She sat beside her daughter and Lady Della Mormont, the wife of Desmond Manderley. "So no White Hart for Prince Aegon." Della quipped up as she bit into a piece of the stag.
She smirked and looked at Della. "No, White Hart, yet its taste is not bad, does it?" She said as she bit into a piece of the stag that had already been cooked. The smell of the meats hung around the camp.
"Yes, Princess, it does. However, I'm curious to see what your son and gooddaughter have brought back. Considering his hunting skills, my brother has praise. He might outdo our King." Della responded, and to be honest, she suspected the same thing. Aemon had always been a good hunter.
"Muna, can I go hunting next time? Nyra could go. Can I do it next time?" She looked toward her daughter. "Perhaps you can. I'm sure there will be a hunt when you go to Winterfell for your cousin's wedding." She said with a smile, she wouldn't deny her daughter. Those big purple eyes made her resolve crumble on many occasions.
"Yay, I will hunt a big bear like Aemon with Patch." She might be one age to be betrothed, but Visenya was still a child, and she smiled at her daughter's antics. "Let's start perhaps with something smaller." She said as she stroked her daughter's raven hair.
"Prince Aemon, he caught the White Hart!" A voice shouted aloud, and all heads around the tables and turned toward the front of the camp. Her son had returned, and now he strode into camp, and what looked like they had one successful hunt.
"All Hail, Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. Conqueror of the Stepstones and Kingswood. White Dragon." Were all shouts that came up from the gathered crowd. She smiled but looked at Rhaenyra, the Princess of the realms, who was blood-soaked. Her clothes and even parts of her neck were covered in blood. Her son and Criston also weren't better, their attire covered in blood and dirt, especially their arms and hands.
Ghost, though, would look terrifying for those unfamiliar with the wolf. His face was partly red, as red as his eyes. Ghost being white made the wolf stand out even more. Behind him, he dragged the White Hart. She did not know how her son had convinced his wolf to do something like that.
Her son dismounted and helped Rhaenyra, who looked tired as she got a closer look at her. He took her arm as they walked over to Viserys. "Your Grace, I see your hunt was a successful one," Aemon said, and she looked toward Otto, who had an annoyed look on his face. "Yes, not White Hart, but a big stag nonetheless. Yet, it seems it was to be your prize today, brother." Viserys said and nodded toward Ghost. How was being unstrapped by Ser Criston Cole? It surprised her that Ghost let him, but the man seemed to be trusted. He was considering how the wolves were around others like Otto.
"Yes, it was quite a scene, Father. The stage appeared on the hill where we were standing. It looked at Aemon and never ran, not even a flinch. It is as if the gods themselves showed their favor, as our Lord Hand so deftly put it yesterday. A true hunter, Aemon struck with masterful precision and hit The White Hart in the chest. The stag was gone instance." Rhaenyra explained the magical moment.
"A sign indeed. But dear daughter, what happened to you? You haven't been hurt, have you?" Viserys asked, his face looking concerned as he looked his daughter over.
"My wife killed a boar herself and got blooded in the process. Ser Criston had speared the boar, and Rhaenyra had thought it had died. So she had dismounted and looked at the boar. But it still lived and started to rise, and in a quick action, she finished the animal off." Aemon said. She heard the pride in his voice as he spoke of his wife. Aemon smiled and kissed Rhaenyra on the top of her crown.
"See, Mother! Now I can go as well be like Rhaenyra." Visenya quipped up, wish received laughter from around the table. "You will one day, as agreed." She said she shushed her daughter.
"As for the rest of our quarry, I also have one more boar, with us a big male. Rhaenyra also shot a pheasant, and I a rabbit and a pheasant. All are already dressed so that the cooks can start right away. The head of the stag, I wish to keep for in my household. As well as the boar tusks," Aemon explained all they had got, and there was a collected murmuring of approval. Aemon then turned to Rhaenyra. " And you, Rhaenyra, do you wish for anything from the hunt to be taken home?"
"Yes, the boar's tusks and, of course, the pheasant feather are quite exquisite. They will certainly find their place in the future," Rhaenyra answered brightly. "Well deserved, both of you. You've done splendidly," Viserys added, his gaze turning towards...
"Well, let's feast! I haven't enjoyed a proper one since my nameday celebrations almost nine moons ago. To Prince Aegon!" Aemon declared, raising his cup with a warm smile.
"To Prince Aegon!" echoed the gathered crowd in unison. "To Prince Aemon, Hero of The Stepstones!" someone in the crowd shouted.
"To Prince Aemon!" the crowd responded enthusiastically.
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