The wind howled against the small wooden house, like a bloodthirsty beast trying to force its way in.
Inside, the room was lit by a flickering fireplace, and it smelled of smoke, boiled herbs, and sulfur, indicating just how close it was to one of the island's many volcanoes.
A young man no older than twenty sat beside a big feather bed, looking at the woman currently occupying it; his skin, unlike the woman's, was pale, almost translucent, his hair shining white-silver was braided down the back, reaching his waist. The front, however, was hanging loosely, almost completely covering his purple eyes, which were currently filled with sadness, as he clenched his hands on his knees.
Ysilla of Skagos.
She looked smaller than he remembered. Her dark hair, once braided thick with bone beads, lay loose against the furs. Sweat clung to her brow, despite the chill in the air.
She was weak! One step from death's door, and they both knew it.
"You look as though the mountain has swallowed your tongue," she murmured, her lips curving faintly.
"I don't like the look in your eyes," he said, his voice normally deep and calm, now broken like a boy's. " The healer said you'll mend."
"The healer also said Clan Crowl keeps goats," she replied dryly. "And we both know that's a lie."
He almost smiled.
BOOM!!
Outside, thunder rolled, or perhaps a volcano had blown.
Ysilla reached for him. Her hand was still warm. Always warm.
"Aelyx," she said softly.
He leaned closer.
"That is not your name."
He blinked. "It is."
"It is the name I gave you." Her fingers tightened slightly. "The name that kept you alive."
The wind pressed hard against the wooden house, shaking it.
"Your father gave you another."
He stiffened.
His father was smoke and a memory. A tall man with silver hair and tired eyes. A voice that spoke gently at all times, even if the world was burning, carrying the scent of parchment and salt air.
"What name?" he asked.
Ysilla studied his face for a long moment as though measuring whether he was ready.
"Jaehaerys Targaryen, son of Aelor Targaryen, who was at one point the rightfully heir to the Iron Throne."
Her words settled, as Aelyx's eyes narrowed, then he sighed, showing no other outward reaction to the news.
"As calm as ever," she commented, taking in his reaction, as a smile appeared on her face. " Did you know?"
"I knew I had Targaryen blood; it's not like I'm stupid, to not notice the silver hair and the purple eyes, but the latter half is new."
"Ah, right. I should have thought of that," she said, playfulness and teasing leaked in her voice.
"If he were the heir, what happened?"
"Your father was a lot of things, but most of all, he was a man who followed what he believed in, and what he believed in most of all were three things. The first was that he would not be a good king. The second was that he would father the child to restore the Targaryen rule after they were eventually dethroned. The last was the prophecy of Ash, Crowns, and the two dragons," she said as her smile was gone and she sat up, looking at her son.
Aelyx's brow furrowed. " I have questions.... what exactly is the..."
He was cut off as his mother raised her hand, signaling him to stop.
"I know the questions you have, and I will answer them. Yes, your father knew the Targaryen dynasty would fall; it's not like he was the only one. Many people thought it would happen; a series of bad or foolish kings had made sure of that. But unlike others who just guessed and assumed, only a few knew what was coming: the people of Skagos and maybe the Citadel, if they managed to understand the shortened and bastardised version they had, even the important pieces on the board didn't know the ending was set.
Your father's knowledge came from the prophecy of Ash, Crowns, and the two dragons, a Prophecy as old as the people of Skagos can remember. We have never spread it as the Targaryens were always in power, and wouldn't take kindly to the spread of a prophecy foretelling their downfall, but somehow your father had gotten his hands on it and translated it, and believed it, as some of the events it foretold had already happened. Wanting to know more, he came here, leaving his duty behind, seeking answers, and we met and made you, the child he believed would fix everything," she said as she let out a breath.
"He believed I would take back the throne and become King, that's why he gave me that name," he said as his clenched hands loosened, and his right hand reached for the sword on his waist. His eyes shone with a sudden understanding.
"This sword, it's Blackfyre, isn't it?"
"It is, he said it would help on your path," she responded, shifting to lie back down, too weak to stay upright any longer.
Aelyx rose from his seat, helping his mother back down, making sure she was comfortable, before sitting down.
"A king's name and a king's sword."
"Jaehaerys the Conciliator. The wise."
She gave a soft huff of laughter that turned into a cough.
"Your father believed you would be like him."
"Like him how?"
"Patient," she said. "Measured, a person who knew when to kill and when not to, someone who knew fire wasn't the only answer."
He looked away towards the space between the wooden walls, towards the armed men camping outside, and the smoke coming from the distance.
"That doesn't sound like me."