Author Note:
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The Long Summer, 298 - 299 AC
The fires of Qarth had long since died, but their echoes reverberated through Slaver's Bay. Word of Aemon Targaryen's wrath spread like wildfire, painting him as both a liberator and a tyrant. His enemies whispered of his ruthlessness, while his followers spoke of his unyielding strength. But within the walls of Meereen, Aemon's heart was divided—torn between the dragonlord he had become and the father he now was.
The birth of Visenya had changed everything.
Fortifying the Dragon's Nest
Aemon's first decree after the birth of his daughter was to increase the security around his family. The palace of Meereen, already a fortress of stone and steel, was transformed into an impenetrable stronghold. Unsullied guards patrolled every corridor, their spears gleaming under the torchlight, while trusted sentinels kept watch beyond the city walls.
"No one comes near my family without my leave," Aemon commanded, his voice cold and resolute. The memory of Qarth's betrayal still burned within him, and he would not risk his family's safety again.
Missandei, ever loyal and efficient, oversaw the household with meticulous care. She coordinated with the guards, ensured the palace remained secure, and managed the daily affairs of court with the grace and precision that had become her hallmark.
Daenerys, however, withdrew from the political machinations. Her focus had shifted entirely to Visenya. She spent her days in the nursery, cradling their daughter, singing old Valyrian lullabies, and watching as Aemon transformed from the ruthless dragonlord to a devoted father.
A Father's Love
In the quiet moments between council meetings and military drills, Aemon found solace in his daughter's laughter. Visenya's giggles echoed through the halls, a sweet, innocent sound that softened even the hardest hearts. Aemon would lift her high into the air, her silver-gold hair catching the sunlight as she squealed with delight.
"You'll ride a dragon one day," he whispered to her, his voice filled with both promise and pride. "You'll soar higher than any Targaryen before you."
Visenya's tiny fingers would curl around his, her bright eyes filled with trust and wonder. In those moments, Aemon felt a peace he hadn't known since his days in Winterfell. But that peace was fleeting, always shadowed by the knowledge of the war that awaited them in Westeros.
Daenerys watched them with a mixture of love and fear. She saw the tenderness in Aemon's eyes, but she also saw the fire that burned just beneath the surface—a fire that had turned him into a force of reckoning.
Ruling with an Iron Fist
While Aemon's heart softened for his family, his rule over Slaver's Bay grew harsher. He crushed any sign of dissent with swift and brutal efficiency. The masters of Yunkai and Astapor, who dared to resist his reforms, found their cities burned and their names erased from history.
"Mercy is a weakness," Aemon declared to his council. "They will respect our power, or they will burn."
His dragons became symbols of both fear and hope. Ancalagon patrolled the skies, his shadow a constant reminder of the dragonlord's wrath. Rhaegal and Meleys followed, their fiery breath ensuring that no rebellion could take root.
Yet, despite his ruthlessness, Aemon introduced reforms that began to dismantle the foundations of slavery. He established new laws that protected the freedmen, created trade routes that benefited the common folk, and enforced strict punishments for those who sought to exploit the weak.
Missandei became his voice in court, delivering his edicts with unwavering authority. Her presence was a reminder that Aemon's rule was not born solely from fear, but from a vision of a better future—a future where their daughter could grow without the shadows of oppression.
A Growing Divide
As the long summer stretched on, a subtle tension began to grow between Aemon and Daenerys. While Aemon's focus remained on consolidating power and preparing for their eventual conquest of Westeros, Daenerys grew increasingly protective of Visenya.
"We have everything we need here," Daenerys whispered one night, her voice soft but firm. "Why risk it all for a throne that has brought nothing but pain?"
Aemon's jaw tightened, his gaze drifting to their sleeping daughter. "Because it's our birthright. It's her birthright."
Daenerys shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "I don't care about thrones or crowns. I only care about her."
Aemon pulled her close, his voice a whisper against her hair. "I'll protect her, Daenerys. I'll protect both of you. But I won't let the past dictate our future. We will take back what is ours."
Daenerys said nothing, but the fear in her heart lingered, even as Aemon's arms wrapped around her.
A New Dawn
By the end of 299 AC, Aemon's grip on Slaver's Bay was absolute. His name was spoken in hushed tones across Essos, and his banners flew high above the cities he had conquered. But his eyes were set on the horizon, on the distant shores of Westeros, where the Iron Throne awaited.
In the early dawn light, Aemon stood on the balcony of the palace, Visenya cradled in his arms. Daenerys joined him, her hand resting on his shoulder as they watched the sun rise over Meereen.
"She'll know both peace and power," Aemon murmured, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "And when the time comes, she'll inherit a world we've built for her."
Daenerys nodded, her heart heavy with both hope and fear. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but for now, they had each other. And in the arms of the dragonlord, Visenya slept peacefully, unaware of the legacy that awaited her.