A/N: This chapter is freaking huge, don't get used to it! Also about the music part, it's just a novelty that I've always wanted to try, but I don't plan on making that a thing, just on a few very special chapters that I feel like it fits. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one! Please don't forget to vote, share, and leave a review, my lovely degenerates!
Rhaenyra Targaryen, 103 AC.
They soon disembarked at the docks of King's Landing and proceeded to the royal castle to meet the king, perhaps for the last time. Immediately, they were welcomed by the rancid smell of feces and piss that always lingered in the capital.
Rhaenyra covered her nose as she turned to look at her brother, who, like her, had an expression of disgust on his face.
Sighing, she released her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth. "I'll never get used to this."
Aemon nodded beside her, agreeing with her statement.
Soon, accompanied by the knights that came to escort them, they arrived at the castle.
As they walked to their destination, they were interrupted by a tall figure standing in front of them.
The man dressed in dark green clothes had a somber and somewhat out-of-place visage. He had auburn hair, although it was already beginning to thin out, probably caused by alopecia. One could see that he had been a handsome man in his youth, but the years had not treated him kindly. On his chest lay a golden brooch symbolizing his status.
'The Hand of the King,' thought Rhaenyra as she stared at the towering man.
"Prince Aemon, Princess Rhaenyra," he greeted, his voice deep and formal. "Welcome to King's Landing. The king is expecting you."
"Thank you, Lord Hand," Aemon replied, trying to keep his tone respectful despite the unease he felt around the man.
He remembered that somehow the Dance of the Dragons was related to him, he just didn't remember how.
The Hand, Ser Otto Hightower, scrutinized them for a moment longer before stepping aside to allow them passage. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"
"Indeed, it was," Rhaenyra responded, her tone clipped. She felt an undercurrent of tension as she interacted with the Hand, and she couldn't help but be wary of him.
As they walked past, she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes following them, assessing, calculating.
The twins made their way through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, they were led to the king's chambers, where the atmosphere grew increasingly solemn.
When they entered, they found King Jaehaerys I propped up on a grand bed, looking frailer than they had ever seen him. His eyes, however, still held a spark of recognition and warmth.
"My little dragons," he greeted weakly, a smile gracing his lips. "You've come to see your old great-grandfather."
Rhaenyra and Aemon approached his bedside, each taking one of his hands.
"Of course, we have, Your Grace," Rhaenyra said softly, her voice filled with emotion. "We wouldn't miss this for anything."
Rhaenyra came to love and respect this man as the years passed. Not only because of their interactions but also because of his legacy and struggles. He was, without a doubt, a great man who would leave his legend for years to come.
Jaehaerys chuckled lightly, though it quickly turned into a cough. "Always so proper, Rhaenyra. Have you been keeping your brother out of trouble?"
Rhaenyra smiled, though her eyes were filled with concern for the king's health. "I've tried, Your Grace, though I'm not always successful."
Aemon smiled embarrassedly at their exchange. He had indeed been getting into trouble lately, especially with fights, as he was on a quest to beat every single squire he could get his hands on, even some way older than him.
"Ah, the vigor of youth," Jaehaerys remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement despite his frail state. "It reminds me of your father in his younger days. He was quite the troublemaker himself."
Aemon chuckled softly, though a bit sheepishly. "I'm just trying to improve, Your Grace. To be as strong as our ancestors."
Jaehaerys nodded approvingly. "That's a noble goal, Aemon. Strength is important, but so is wisdom. Remember that. Your mind is your greatest weapon."
They were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, and a small, docile voice asked, "I've brought the water, Your Grace."
The king said, "Oh, you may enter, Alicent."
Soon, they were greeted by their new guest. A small-framed, pale girl with long and silky auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Her eyes, a pair of beautiful almond spheres, stared at the duo with a hint of weariness but also curiosity. Her eyes grew a bit larger as she saw Aemon, and a blush formed on her face.
Rhaenyra shook her head again while thinking, 'Aemon's beauty is really a menace. Every single girl who lays her eyes on him becomes lovestruck'. She turned her eyes to see how her brother would react.
Contrary to her belief that he might be enamored by the beautiful and young Alicent, his expression was serious and thoughtful. His eyes stared at Alicent not with his normal and charming gaze, but with one she almost never saw in him—a look of concealed coldness.
Alicent, unaware of the undercurrent of tension, stepped forward with the water jug. "Here, Your Grace," she said softly, placing it gently on the table beside Jaehaerys.
Jaehaerys smiled kindly at her. "Thank you, Alicent. You're always so attentive."
She blushed again at the compliment and curtsied slightly before stepping back, her eyes briefly meeting Aemon's before she looked away, flustered.
Rhaenyra, sensing the change in her brother's demeanor, decided to lighten the mood. "I believe we never met. I'm Rhaenyra, and this is my brother, Aemon. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Alicent."
Aemon just nodded, still staring at Alicent.
Alicent, perhaps mistaking that look for something else, became very flustered and muttered with a huge blush, "I-it's a pleasure to meet you both, my princes. My name Alicent. I've heard many tales of your exploits, and I'm honored to be in your presence."
They hadn't really done much to be called "exploits"; it was just good old gossip around royalty that had made them this famous. Of course, they were indeed brilliant in the eyes of the realm, and already had some legends surrounding them, some even saying that they were blessed by the Gods.
Back to the present, Rhaenyra watched her brother, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor since meeting the young Alicent. She wondered what had caused him to act this way, as she knew he would never behave like that without a very good reason. 'I'll have to ask him that later', she made a mental note as they heard the king coughing.
Aemon, shifting his attention from Alicent, looked at the king. His eyes filled with sorrow, as he was very fond of the king, calling him "Old Dragon" when they were alone.
Jaehaerys, seeing their concern, managed a weak smile. "Do not worry, my dear ones. I have lived a long and fulfilling life. It is the nature of things for the old to make way for the young."
Rhaenyra and Aemon both nodded, though their hearts were heavy with the impending loss.
"Old Dragon," Aemon began, his voice thick with emotion, "is there anything we can do for you?" he asked, trying to do anything to ease the king's passing.
The king got silent at the question but soon answered, his voice growing serious. "There is indeed something I wish to show you before it's too late."
"I want to go to the Dragonpit."
That revelation shocked not only the twins but also Alicent. She stammered, "Y-your Grace, you can't! You will die if you do this!" She was right; he would undoubtedly die if he did this, and Jaehaerys knew it very well.
This action would indeed quicken his death. If he just rested all day on his bed as he was doing, then perhaps he could live a couple more weeks without a problem. But he didn't wish for that. He had already lived long enough and was very eager to see what lay behind the curtains of death.
He smiled fondly at the shocked faces of the children and said, "I know, but I just have to go down there one last time to see my long-lived friend," he said wistfully.
Rhaenyra and Aemon knew who he was talking about and both said his name at the same time. "Vermithor!" The Bronze Fury, his long-lasting companion, who had been through thick and thin with him.
"It's been a while since I last saw that grumpy old lizard," the king continued. "I feel like catching up with him before I die."
Aemon and Rhaenyra exchanged worried glances. They understood the bond between dragon and rider, and they knew how much Vermithor meant to their great-grandfather. Rhaenyra stepped forward, her voice trembling but resolute. "If that is your wish, Your Grace, then we will accompany you."
Aemon nodded in agreement. "We'll make sure you get there safely."
Alicent looked between the twins and the king, her expression one of deep concern. "Please, Your Grace, reconsider. There must be another way."
Jaehaerys shook his head and said with a firm tone. "This is my final wish, Alicent."
Alicent was a little bit shocked and hurt by his tone, but relented and just nodded before leaving the room.
Both Rhaenyra and Aemon called the guards and explained the situation. They were confused at first and then shocked. One of them escaped without being noticed to call someone.
The king, now a little more impatient, ordered them to bring Ser Ryam, the commander of the Kingsguard, to help him get dressed and take him to the Dragonpit.
Soon, Ser Ryam arrived, accompanied by an uninvited guest in the form of the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower.
"Your Grace," said Otto, with a solemn tone, "I can't allow this madness to proceed. You will die if you do this!"
The king didn't like his tone and rebuked his words. "I am your king, Otto! Until the minute my last breath leaves me, you will heed my command! Stand down and order the royal carriage to take me and my great-grandchildren to the pit."
Otto's face tightened with displeasure, but he knew better than to defy the king in front of others. He bowed stiffly. "As you command, Your Grace."
With Ser Ryam's assistance, Jaehaerys was dressed and prepared for the journey. The royal carriage was summoned, and the twins helped their great-grandfather into it, their faces a mix of determination and sorrow.
The ride to the Dragonpit was slow and somber, the city's usual bustling energy muted by the gravity of the occasion. The streets were cleared, and people watched in silence as the procession passed, sensing that something momentous was happening.
When they arrived at the Dragonpit, the imposing structure loomed over them, a testament to the Targaryen legacy. The air was thick with the scent of dragons, and the sounds of their roars echoed within the stone walls.
The guards helped Jaehaerys out of the carriage and supported him as he walked, flanked by Rhaenyra and Aemon. Otto followed closely, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation.
~~O~~
Jaehaerys I, 103 AC.
Inside the Dragonpit, Vermithor lay in his lair, his massive bronze form coiled in repose. His scales glistened against the fire, reflecting not only his royal bronze color but also the many battle scars that foretold a history of battles and victories. Beside him lay another massive dragon. This dragon was smaller than him, more nimble and beautiful. Her silvery scales formed a striking contrast with the bronze of Vermithor, giving them a sense of completion, as if the two dragons were made for each other. As they approached, the dragon's golden eyes opened, and a deep, resonant growl echoed through the cavernous space.
Vermithor's gaze softened as he recognized his old rider, and a deep, rumbling purr vibrated through the pit.
"Hello, old friend," Jaehaerys whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I've missed you."
The dragon responded with a gentle nudge, his massive head moving close to the king. Vermithor's eyes scanned the crowd, and he let out a very human snort filled with indignation when staring at Jaehaerys.
Jaehaerys chuckled at his prideful dragon's way of showing his anger at his long absence. He touched Vermithor's snout gently and said, "I'm sorry for not coming here before, old friend. I've been... busy." After his sister-wife's death, he almost completely lost his will to live; if not for the twins, he might not be alive anymore.
Vermithor let out another snort, but this time it was gentler. Soon he focused his eyes on the crowd. After passing over the twins, who he could smell the scent of his rider on, he let out a hiss at the other, strange ones.
Jaehaerys, sensing his grumpy dragon's mood, commanded everyone except the twins and Ryam to leave the vicinity.
Otto tried to contest that order. "Your Grace, we can't leave you here with those things. It's dangerous!" he said, not taking his eyes off the massive dragon, who appeared to have understood his words somehow and was getting angrier.
Jaehaerys, now angry at the disrespect Otto had shown his companion, ordered him in a loud voice, "Leave, Ser Otto, and take the guards with you. There's no place safer for me than here right now." He turned back to Vermithor and caressed the dragon, trying to calm him down.
Otto's face tightened with disbelief, but he bowed and said. "As you command, Your Grace." He gestured to the guards, and they reluctantly followed him out, casting wary glances at the dragons.
As the last of them left, Jaehaerys breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Vermithor. "There now, it's just us," he said softly.
Rhaenyra and Aemon stood quietly by, watching the interaction between their great-grandfather and the dragon with a mixture of awe and sorrow. They could see how much this moment meant to Jaehaerys, and they were determined to honor it.
Without turning his back, Jaehaerys asked the twins in High Valyrian so that Ryam couldn't understand them, "When you look at the dragons, what do you see?"
This caught the twins by surprise, and they descended into thoughtful silence before answering simultaneously, almost subconsciously, "I see a kin. They are our family, or other half, and without them, we are bound to perish."
Rhaenyra continued, "They came with us from Valyria."
Aemon added, "They protect us."
And Rhaenyra finished, "And we protect them. What is that if not family?"
Jaehaerys smiled, surprised by their answer. He had asked the same thing to his son Baelon before, and also Viserys. Both of them answered the same thing: 'dragons are dangerous and we can't control them', and he, admitedly, agreeded with them at the time.
He was glad the twins answered what they've answered. It meant they were better than him, better than their ancestors.
"Good. Very good..." he said softly. Turning his head to Aemon, Jaehaerys asked the boy, "Did you bring your lute as I've asked?"
Aemon nodded, a bit confused by the request that the old king made before they got here.
"Could you please pick it up and sing a song for us? I've heard you were really good with the lute, and I've always wanted to see if the rumors were true, mister Silver Minstrel." Jaehaerys chuckled a little as he added the last part.
Aemon smiled bashfully at his teasing, and asked Sir Ryam, whom he tasked with bringing the lute, to give it to him. As Aemon began to assemble the instrument, Rhaenyra assisted him, adjusting the strings and ensuring it was perfectly tuned.
Seeing this, the old king couldn't help but recall the memories of his youth with his beloved sister-queen Alysanne. He remembered the joy and simplicity of their time together, moments when the burdens of the realm felt lighter. The sight of the twins working together with such harmony brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.
'She would have loved the twins...' Jaehaerys thought, regretting deeply that Alysanne never got to know them. He had been too focused on the matters of the realm to truly care about some great-grandsons who, he believed, wouldn't even care about his presence. But now, in his final days, he saw how wrong he had been. The twins were exceptional, and he felt a profound connection to them.
Once the lute was ready, Aemon looked up at his great-grandfather and nodded. "I'm ready, Old Dragon."
With the help of the twins, Jaehaerys settled into a chair that the guards had brought at his command. He signaled with his head for Aemon to begin.
Aemon looked around, the gravity of the situation pressing upon him, but he squared his shoulders and began to play a song he loved from his past life, adjusting the lyrics to fit the occasion. The soft strumming of the lute echoed through the cavernous Dragonpit, a serene prelude to the song.
(Play Wings of Serenity Acoustic by Falconer)
"Oh, you graceful dragon that soar in the air, how I envy your chainless life. You are calling from your sky living under the sun, just riding the winds up high."
Jaehaerys opened his eyes in surprise. The rumors hadn't done justice to Aemon's musical skills. He was more than talented; he was a natural-born singer. The king mused, mystified, 'This kid is a freak. What an extraordinary pair of twins...'
"Your cliff is your castle, you're nature's truly royal, a king in bronze and gold. Look down on the foolish man competing with time, chasing his precious day."
Rhaenyra watched her brother's back, the surreal nature of the scene striking her. It felt like a moment from a fantastical legend: a king, a princess, two dragons, a commander of the Kingsguard, and a song in the air. She knew this would become a legend in the annals of Westeros.
"You're flying on winds of serenity into the blinding light. You're the majesty of freedom living life at its height."
Vermithor, who had been paying attention to his rider, now focused entirely on Aemon. The connection he felt with the young Targaryen was powerful, even stronger than his bond with Jaehaerys, which was dimming as the king's vitality waned. Vermithor's golden eyes stared through Aemon, assessing his very soul.
Silverwing, previously asleep, stirred and woke up, disturbed by Vermithor's shifting mood. Her majestic silver-blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the presence of Aemon and then landing on Rhaenyra. As her gaze settled on the girl, a flicker of recognition and familiarity sparked within her ancient consciousness. It reminded her of her old rider, Queen Alysanne, but it was something deeper, more profound—a connection that transcended time and blood. Her gaze fixed on Rhaenyra, and something stirred within the princess, a call from deep within her soul.
"Oh, you graceful dragon that soar in the air, how I envy your chainless life. You are calling from your sky living under the sun, just riding the winds up high. You're flying on winds of serenity into the blinding light. You're the majesty of freedom living life at its height."
Aemon's eyes remained locked with Vermithor's golden ones, feeling his blood boil and an ancient force within him threatening to burst forth. Both he and Rhaenyra shared this feeling as they stared at the majestic dragons before them.
"You're flying on wings of serenity, you're soaring above the ground. You are the majesty of freedom, tranquillity is your crown."
Jaehaerys, observing this legendary moment, felt a mix of perplexity and ecstasy. He sensed his bond with Vermithor fading, replaced by something more ancient and powerful. It saddened him, but also brought him peace. He silently smiled, saying in his heart, 'Take care of him, Aemon,' as he closed his eyes and listened to Aemon's voice.
"Oh, please let me follow you on your journey to the clouds. Take me up on your wide wings and show me your world. We will cross the skies, new horizons we'll see, cross the slumbering landscapes and disappearing into the dawn."
Aemon poured every emotion into the verse, his gaze fixed on Vermithor, trying to convey his feelings. The dragon responded, approaching the young Targaryen with a sense of familiarity, as if reuniting with a long-lost family member.
Aemon smiled, a pure and genuine smile. He turned to Rhaenyra and saw a similar scene unfolding with Silverwing. Rhaenyra met his gaze and smiled back, both feeling a powerful bond, not just with their dragons but with each other. It was a bond ancient and profound, both frightening and exhilarating.
"You're flying on winds of serenity into the blinding light. You're the majesty of freedom living life at its height. You're flying on wings of serenity, you're soaring above the ground. You are the majesty of freedom, tranquillity is your crown!"
As Aemon finished the song, the ancient, magical atmosphere that had enveloped them dissipated, but the transformation was complete. Then it dawned on him: both Rhaenyra and Aemon were now, officially, dragon riders.
PS: Credits to their respective artists, if you see this and want me to take it down the picture, you just have to ask.
Vermithor:
Silverwing: