111 AC
King's Landing, Tourney Grounds
Third Person POV,
Daemon Targaryen
XXX
Daemon Targaryen never planned to be a father, and yet as he stood there. Watching the seed of his loins and the woman in this world he hates the most, and he couldn't help but be proud.
He felt pride in his own strength pride in the blood of his own line, and pride in the power and heritage that blood carried.
Looking down at the boy really put it into perspective. It felt like not so long ago his son was sitting in his lap atop the back of Caraxes while he told him of the blood and legacy of old Valyria. Now though, the child stood nearly eye level with him.
"So what exactly is it I need to know?" Aemon asked staring up at him. Daemon swallowed, for the very first time in a very long time he was actually nervous. Still, he thought it better to simply get it over with.
"To put it simply there needs to be a meeting between us and certain Lysen connections I have. There is a woman in particular who wants to meet you more than the others," Daemon said.
"When is it? I can't attend if it's tonight I have other plans." Aemon replied, initially the plan was to meet with his fellow round table knights for drinks, but that was simply a cover so nobody would suspect him of any foul play when Aemma died. In truth, he planned to approach Viserys soon after his wife's death and bring Daemon.
If he could get the two brothers to be further unified by grief then it would prevent both Daemon and him from getting disinharated
"In seven days. These people aren't the same sniveling cowards or the Pentoshi merchants you've been making deals with. Show them why the world fears the blood of the dragon." Daemon said seriously placing a hand on Aemon's shoulder.
The boy looked down at Daemon's hand with no particular expression before looking back up at his father's eyes. Something passed between them at that moment Daemon wanted to say something, anything. Instead, he let his hand drop back to his waist.
"Seven days," Daemon said once more emphasis filling his words.
Aemon nodded and turned to leave. He made his way to Balerion preparing for the next joust.
Daemon watched his son go with no little amount of tension in his heart.
XXX
111 AC
King's Landing, Tourney Grounds
First Person POV,
Aemon Targaryen
XXX
Trotting out onto the field atop the back of my black stallion I come to a stop. Countless lords and small folk cheer for the two of us as we enter from the tunnel. I expected that from the Vale lords but to my shock I'm getting an equal amount of love from the lords of the north and the stormlands despite defeating their champions.
How strange it is to see so many people united like this once again. Flags and banners with sigils of countless hours waving and even the small folk going nearly fanatical.
It's crazy to me because I'm not even enhancing their emotions this time. My head turns slowly to take it all in and eventually a soft smile crosses my face as I take a playful lap around the arena lance raised into the air.
There's another chant of my name as they complete a circle around the arena and take my place on my side.
Soon after my father rides out in all of his black and red glory, receiving a similar reaction albeit somewhat more subdued. It doesn't take as long for him to make it to the place as he doesn't make a full circle just half of one and back to his.
'Are you ready my master?' Balerion said not shouting in my mind for once. His tone might be quieter but I can tell he's also much more serious than ever.
I didn't reply verbally, just gave him a nod; he could sense the intent from it.
My heart was beating faster than usual. Maybe it was the fight coming up. Anxiety or anticipation or maybe even excitement, throwing me off my usual calm.
Maybe it was the fact that Daemon was currently the greatest warrior of the age and I would finally be able to truly test myself against him. No holding back no more waiting or planning or hoping that things go to plan.
Just two men in a circle trying to beat each other senseless in one way or another.
It was enough to almost make me smile.
Almost.
Instead, I stayed stoic. Mainly because I know that I do need to go into this fight with a plan. I didn't need to just beat Daemon, I needed a show. Theater. Something that not only firmly cements me as the greatest warrior of the age instead of him but also sends him a message, sends the whole world a message.
Plus there was the matter of the aftermath. The victory came with a boon. I know what to ask for and how to ask for it. There was a picking who would be the lucky lady to get a crown of blue roses placed atop her head from his lance. I already have a queen of love and beauty picked out. The death of Aemma and the resulting fallout. All I had to do was wait and act appropriately. A few of the right words at the right time and everything would be on track.
So why do I still feel like something is wrong? I'm ready and prepared for this fight but it's not the fight that's causing my instincts to flare.
It feels like something is watching me, no, stalking me in some strange way. I wanted to scan the crowd but didn't have time for that as the cryer called for us to start.
'ON WARDS TO VICTORY!" My loyal steed announces at the same time that the joust is called to begin.
The first pass was quick. Quicker than I ever thought one could be. Maybe it's because he's been waiting for this moment for quite some time but Balerion tears down the lane with a horse's equivalent of a roar.
Daemon doesn't back down though instead he goes for a faint that I easily catch with my sky eyes already activated. His lance misses me entirely but the odd angle of his last-minute dodge causes my lance to glance off his shield.
"Shit!" I hear Daemon curse loudly but I just keep going and my determination causes Balerion to push harder than ever.
We went again and again with similar results until the fourth pass when I attempt a faint of my own and it finally catches him in the shield. It breaks off of it but I'm still pissed because I was aiming for his shoulder but he lifted the sigilid shield just before it could land.
"Lance!" I yelled and one of the random brown-haired boys came out and threw me another. I level the black and orange lance as I move refusing g to slow at all.
It's a good go, Balerion is pushing hard and fast but not out of control. I'm halfway down the lane before he even turns and my lance hits Damon hard enough for him to fall onto the fence and his lower half to still be stuck to his horse. My lance is shattered though and I'm already in position to go again.
Daemon manages to right himself off of pure damn near supernatural core strength alone to avoid core strength. Back in position with a new lance hand moments later.
The fight continues and I make a point of letting him break a few lances on me to make sure nobody will think he's pulling his blows or letting me win.
Sure it hurts a little but what hurts even more was hearing all of the sly little jabs people have been throwing at me and my mother my entire life because of fathers behavior. So I let lance after lance pass making sure to keep it somewhat equal but making sure to stay ahead.
To my surprise on our thirteenth pass, he almost manages to make me lose my balance with a strike that's far stronger than all of the others.
'Was he actually holding back the whole time? Maybe, but that doesn't really matter.' I think to myself as I catch another lance out of the air. I think the record for most crosses before the match was called a draw was thirty or something though I can't remember who it was.
In the spirit of that, I'll make it about 25 passes before I hit him with everything and send him flying, and so the time passes as we trade lance after lance. Not all of them break off, of course. Some of them miss others glance of but the crowd is constantly on the edge of their seats, much of it no doubt that this is the most bet on match of the day and probably ever since the great council.
Hell, even I have over a thousand golden dragons riding on my own overall victory. But I don't have anything to worry about after all I am the one running the betting pools so I can get my money back even if I lost.
'Talk about the house always wins am I right?'
I thought as a grin crossed my face. Then I finally noticed something. It wasn't until the 20th lance that I noticed that Daemon's strikes had been continuously growing stronger with each pass.
By the time of the twenty-third pass, I realised that I was in true danger of losing to my father for real.
Now that was truly exciting. I'd honestly been disappointed overall by the tourney so far but I was right in assuming that my father would finally pose me a true challenge.
Still, I couldn't afford to lose. Not because of my money but because my pride could never allow such a thing. The 24th pass hurt like a bitch but the sting wasn't enough to stop me and certainly not Balerion who'd managed to flow completely into a battle rhythm that most horses could never even dream of achieving.
The final blow was smooth and dangerous. Daemon bothered to try and faint for my head but I didn't even humor the strike with my shield. Instead, I focused all my strength into my arms and even summoned my scales under my armor just for added defence.
I sent him flying from his stallion so hard that I imagine that he could feel his balls going in the opposite direction of his body.
The moment that Daemon hit the dirt a cheer louder than I had ever heard before rose from the entire crowd in all directions.
'AND SO THE FALSE DRAGON FALLS BEFORE OUR MIGHT!' Balerion yelled in my mind and I swore one day this damn horse was going to give me a headache.
I slowed the black beast to a stop and hauled myself off its saddle. I hadn't realised how much my chest and shoulders ached with pain until I was down and stretching them out the best I could in my armor. More than that I was sick of the stupid heavy helmet atop my head and took it off shaking out my hair.
I twisted around facing the prone form of my father as he writes in the dirt. I don't bother checking whether or not he was even awake as I shout at the top of my lungs and hold out my arm.
"SWORD!" My voice startles even me as I wait for my blade to reach me. Normally the winner of the two jousters doesn't call for their sword first I'm not even sure if it's allowed or not but I don't particularly care.
"P-PRINCE AEMON WISHES TO CONTINUE WITH A CONTEST OF ARMS!" The cryer shouted, and seems like even he wasn't sure if I was allowed to do that.
Shirking my shield to the ground I wait for my blade to reach me. The small blonde form of Arnold came rushing forward with Lamentation in hand.
I gripped the handle with one hand taking a moment to admire the brand new golden hilt. I still had yet to take the sword for a true spin outside of normal practice rounds in private and having the blade reforge had cost me quite a lot.
Still taking that trip to Pentos three years ago had been more than worth it in order to find the master forger I was looking for. It was he who helped teach me blacksmithing. It was he who helped me start mass-producing my yet unsold glass stores and perfect the process of imbuing armor with my house's colors.
And most importantly it was that very same blacksmith from Qohor who helped me reforge Lamentation into the brand new rune-imbued blade that it was. He walked towards Daemon who was now marching towards me with Dark sister in hand.
"Boy!" He shouted pointing the legendary blade at me with one hand and getting his shield with the other.
I took a deep calming breath closed my eyes and unsheathed the blade.
A gasp went up from everyone around including my father. Even he had not seen Lametation's new form and power. All that seemed to be was that I had changed the hilt and handle.
I held it aloft letting the orange runes glow as I reactivated the dragon's aura. I felt awe as well as a mix of other grand emotions coming from the crowd around me. I sent out a wave of aura to suppress the negativity and enhance the greatness.
Surprisingly the first to leave the stunlock of awe was Daemon himself. Though perhaps it wasn't so odd that the seasoned dragon rider had the strongest will.
So as he charged me I readjusted my stance, tightened my grip, and began to swing.
[image here]
XXX
111 AC
Kingslanding, Tourny Stands
???
Third-person POV
XXX
"So is he everything you'd hoped for?" Her apprentice asked her. A seemingly innocent question but she could hear the jealousy filling her disciple's voice. Understandably, really, the boy has almost every reason to envy the prince of Runestone.
"Everything and more." A wide grin splits her face as she leans back in her seat taking another handful of this strange new snack she's grown quite fond of. Truly the idea of having people selling snacks and other such items while moving through the stands was rather ingenious. Yet another reason to pay compliments to Prince Aemon Targaryen.
"He may not be the one but I believe that they shall be of his blood. Though it's also most likely to be him if we're picking from the currently living." He says eyes are not leaving the Prince as he stands in the circle, magic sword in hand.
"He is the one, of that I'm certain, as you should be as well." She says picking up another piece of this so-called popcorn and noticing her glamor was starting to flicker on and off. She'd have to reapply it later which was going to be a bit of a pain to do in this city.
"One fancy magic sword should not be enough to convince you," He scoffed quietly.
"And the rising magic tide since the moment he was born?" She replied with an amused chuckle.
"Coincidence." He said crossing his arms and looking away. His pouting was adorable to her but she knew it would be a pain to change his mind.
"You shouldn't always be so stubborn my wayward disciple. Besides, why do you think it is that I took you under my loving wing?" She said turning her gaze from the match to her disciple's face. Part of it was to see his reaction and the other part was to make sure his own glamor hadn't worn off. Luckily it hadn't just yet.
"Magic."
"You should know it's far more than that my dear. We shall be taking our leave for now. We must prepare." She said giving him a wink before standing up. She'd seen enough for now, the potential of both men had been made clear but she was starting to grow tired of watching them hit each other with glorified sticks. Besides she had business to prepare for.
"Yes, my lady," He says standing to follow her notably taller figure out of the crowd. They weave their ways between people going almost entirely unnoticed in the black cloaks and dark hoods, it's as if they're not even there. Travel in silence for a while simply making their way to the King's Gate.
"Mistress may I ask a question?" He asks after a few minutes, after they'd made it clear of the crowd and are headed past the guards. They don't even stop them as they pass through unlike everyone else who must go in line back towards the heart of the city.
"You just have, young one," She answers still half focused on making her way back to their personal accommodations for their stay. It is a small yet effective manner that a few lesser lords tend to rent out when they're in the city.
"Do you really think he could be the one? The Ris Perzys I mean," He asks while quickly going in front of her to open the door. She enters with a grateful nod and she quickly takes a seat on a nearby couch. It's rather comfortable if not a tad bit expensive as it is a craftwork of House Royce. Another point in favor of Aemon Targaryen.
"Hmm maybe. I think it's more likely than not. Although it could be his father. Either way, they're both from a bloodline of dragon lords with dragons and the blood of kings. But enough about that for now my dear. We have seven days and we might as well have a bit of fun while we can," She said with a mischievous smile.
"What did you have in mind mistress tere are all sorts of events happening all over the city! We passed by a few shows from those mummers if you'd like to see them! We could also go watch the horse races in the street of sisters or those new soccer games I've been hearing about," Her disciple begins to rant with joy and it only Enders him to her that much more. Their relationship is still quite young but she has already grown quite fond of the young lad. He's only 14 after all and although he's technically old enough to wed and bed anyone he likes, the boy has stayed surprisingly innocent considering the family he comes from.
"Oh you sweet child, I'm sure you'll have fun doing all that. I however am headed to the street of silk for a different kind of fun," She winks at the boy, and just as expected a light blush crosses his face.
'How cute.' She thought smiling brightly as she watched his reaction.
"O-oh umm ok mistress." He stumbled over his words glancing anywhere but her face after drinking in her smile.
"Oh, disappointed are we?" She asks teasingly raising a brow in challenge.
"N-no mistress it's just…" He stutters breaking eye contact and looking down at the floor. Half of her finds it hilarious how nervous he still is around her and the other half is bemused at how he's still been standing this whole time as if he needs her permission to sit.
"Just what?" She asks standing up to draw closer to the boy leaning in as if she needed to hear him better. She didn't instead she just wanted to tease him with a flash of her cleavage.
"I was just hoping that we could spend some time together without worrying about all this, that's all." He said and it made her almost squeal with how adorable he was.
"Aww of course sweet child my little trip can wait… unless," She said stepping closer and gently cupping his cheek with one hand lifting his gaze to meet hers.
"Unless what?" He said almost hypnotized by her eyes even with the glamour changing their typical color to black.
"Unless you'd like to come with me hmm?" She teased causing her little apprentice to lock up and stutter even more. Oh yes, she was quite well aware that her young disciple had been harboring romantic feelings for her for a little while now. Frankly, she found his little crush quite cute.
"M-misstress I-I c-couldn't," The boy shook his head his already red face blossoming into a bright crimson flower. How adorable, she was genuinely considering taking him on as a lover in the future maybe when he was just a little older though. Not that she minded being his first experience but she'd much prefer if she wasn't the only one.
Wouldn't want him to become overly obsessed with her. She's been there and done that before and let's just say it was not fun at all. Even so, a boy his age should have been frequenting brothels by now and she was fairly sure he wasn't a sword swallower by now. Not that there weren't brothels for that as well. Plenty of places cater to unique tastes but she'd heard a rumor that Silk Street had a brothel fr damn near everything even some pretty vile shit.
Even so, she wasn't headed down there for some basic carnal desire as she'd implied. Instead, she would be meeting with an old friend who hopefully would help expand her options here in Westaros or at least in Kings Landing.
Still, she's a little bit disappointed by her disciple's little denial as she was plenty ready to rock his whole world if he'd actually been bold enough to ask.
A shame that he didn't, not unexpected though. She knew that he would decline her offer even though it was indeed sincere. She didn't love him back of course but she found herself quite fond of the wayward boy. She even knew about his little dream of making love to her and getting her with child a few times as well. The poor boy was quite the sleep talker and he was at that age, the same age as the prince actually.
Why knows? In a few years, she might even let him. Sooner even, if he could find the courage.
"Hehehe of course my dearest disciple, besides it seems you're not quite ready for that. Not yet," She winks again turning and sashaying away and walking out the door.
XXX
111 AC
King's Landing, Tourney Grounds
First Person POV,
Daemon Targaryen
XXX
He wakes from the dream of cold flames and icy death with living fire.
It's faint now, like mist, or incense smoke seeping between his fingers. And instead of the fog of dreams, he now felt an odd feeling surrounding and filling him. It was warm and growing warmer but not too hot and he got the feeling that no matter how hot it got it would never burn him.
Where was he?
Who was he?
What the hell was going on?
His body felt heavy and tired, very tired.
More than that he needed to find something. Something that was missing. Something that he always kept with him. But what was it?
It was… hmmm… probably something with an S. His umm… sister? Yeah, his sister. No not just his sister. It's not a person it's a thing for sure and he needed it now. Like, right now.
His hand scribbled across the floor and it's only now that he starts to hear his own heart beating in his ears. That's probably what it is anyway.
Then he notices that not only can he hear his own heartbeat but he can also hear ringing.
Gods he was tired. So fucking tired it actually hurt. Or maybe that's just the enormous fucking headache trying to kill him. Or maybe it was the physical pain that was doing it. That probably makes more sense than anything else. But to be fair groping around in the dark for an object he couldn't remember the name of was probably not the best idea either.
Speaking of which. Why was it so dark in the first place?
His eyes trembled.
Ah, his eyes were closed, which made sense.
So the solution was simple. Open them.
He does so and immediately regrets that entire line of this king's as stinging pain from the light pierces his eyes for a moment.
'Nope, bad idea,' he thinks to himself shutting them again.
Damnit he still needed to go do so many things. He needed to get up, he needed to find his sword, and he needed to win.
His sword? Ah yes, his sword. Not just his sword his family's sword. Dark sister! That was the name. He had lost it while fighting. But fighting what or who?
Speaking of which, who was he? Do something. Daeron maybe? Bo that didn't seem right, but almost it.
Daemon perhaps? Ah yes! Daemon was his name.
Daemon Targaryen, of House Targaryen, blood of the conquerors, the descendant of old Valyria, and one of the last dragon lords.
He was Daemon Targaryen rider of Caraxes the blood worm.
Speaking of witch he could feel the bloodworm's anger. His companion was trying to get to him but he was chained.
He could feel Caraxes' desperation riding through. Apparently, he could feel that Daemon was hurt while he was away and his previous rider had died while Caeaxes was gone. Daemon wasn't his uncle though he was someone else. Something else. Something far more special than his uncle Aemon ever was.
Aemon.
Something about that name resonated with him. Then he remembered it. He was fighting Aemon.
His uncle?
No not his uncle that didn't make sense. Daemon frowned trying to puzzle it together. This particular Aemon was not his uncle. But then who was he?
His name was definitely Aemon, which negs the question of who he was. They were definitely related, Daemon can tell that on a soul-deep level, and speaking of soul-deep that's where he can feel the push and pull of Caraxes's emotions from. That and his power.
In this moment their bond is deeper and stronger than ever before and Daemon can almost hear the faintest whisper calling out to him from it. He doesn't need to muddle out the words though as he knows exactly what his partner is asking him to do.
He can almost see it behind his closed eyelids. The bright red pool of magic is entirely untapped just waiting for him to call upon it. Eager for him and offered up completely freely entirely.
He almost recklessly reached for the bright flaming ball of blood that he somehow instantly knew was his dragon's magic. But something told him to be gentle when taking the borrowed power.
Despite the searing red of its color it felt cool in his Baines before becoming warm like a hot spring's gentle waters soothing his aches and pains.
It even cleared his mind. He remembered now Armon wasn't his brother or cousin and this one certainly wasn't his uncle. It was his son.
It was his son who did this to him.
It was a new feeling that hit him then.
He felt true pride in someone else. It brought a soft smile to his face and this time when he opened his eyes it didn't hurt so badly when he saw only dirt and light.
.
.
.
UNFORTUNATELY, IT WAS OVERSHADOWED BY OVERWHELMING RAGE!
Daemon's eyes flared open with violence, glancing around frantically for his blade.
"Pick it up." The voice came after a cluttering of steel me a ting tourney floor. He looked forward to seeing his sword lying in front of him.
He looked up to see his own son looming over him, gemstone purple eyes glaring down at him coldly.
The boy didn't even seem winded. Instead, he just stood there resting hand over hand atop the pauldron of his glowing blade. He stood tall and proud like the titan of Bravos itself.
"What?" Daemon asked though it was more of a draconic growl.
"Pick. It. Up," Aemon said, more forcefully this time.
Forget what he said earlier about cautiously approaching the power.
'This brat needs to learn a lesson about who his father is!' He shouted in his mind and he could hear Caraces roar in reply.
Daemon grabbed his blade, reached his feet, and took up his fighting stance.
Then, he pulled on the power within like a raging river of fire. The tide of magic flowed over his blood and filled his veins with more power than he had ever felt before.
"Come on then!" Daemon shouted as he stepped closer to the boy each moment gaining speed.
Aemon, almost casually, got out of his resting position and took up his blade once more.
[Chapter image here]
XXX
Aemon knocked his shit loose but now it might be get back time.
I don't know if anyone picked up the hints about the blacksmith or the sword though. I wanted it to be a surprise but not an ass pull but I don't know if I pulled it off right.
Honestly part of me wants to quit writing altogether but I think that's just hunger and the meds talking. So I'm probably not going to give up and I can only apologize for a slow upload speed.