Legacy of the White Dragon : Dance of the Dragons

Two years had passed since the birth of Visenya, and during that time, his father and the entire family had lavished attention on the child. The exception was Daemon, who had spent most of those two years in the Vale at Runestone after his marriage to Rhea Royce, a match that both parties seemed to dislike, as he saw the looks on the wedding. Nevertheless, he and his father had often ridden together, sometimes visiting Dragonstone.

In the year 98 A.C., Septon Barth, a dutiful and perhaps the best Hand he had ever encountered, passed away peacefully in his sleep. Jaehaerys Targaryen appointed Ser Reymund Redwyne as Barth's successor, as the history books had suggested. The year and a half during which Ser Reymund served as Hand proved to be unsuccessful. It was also that year his grandmother died, and poor aunt Gael.

In the year 99 A.C., Queen Alysanne Targaryen died in her sleep in her chambers in the Red Keep. Many suspected the grief of losing so many children and poor Gael's passing finally put the Good Queen into her final rest.

Princess Geal was always sweet, and he loved his aunt, but she easily swayed. That year, the sweet Princess became known to the outside world by a summer feaver. Unfrotanly, that wasn't the case, and his aunt had become pregnant with a singers babe. Of which name shall not be spoken, as he surely is in one of the fourteen flames pits for what he has done to Gael by now. She didn't bring the babe to term, and during her miscarriage, she contracted childbed fever, passing away from it. It was a tragic end for his sweet aunt, who could have given the realm so much more love. If only given the chance.

The realm mourned the Good Queen Alysanne and sweet Princess Gael, and the entire family mourned their losses, with Vhagar and Balerion lighting her funeral pyre. He had also exchanged many letters with his uncle and other grandfather, discussing various matters, including constructing his keep in the North, which was to be constructed in Sea Dragons Point. It was already agreed that he would, on his tenth nameday, travel to Winterfell for a wardship that would last four years. There, he hoped to gain knowledge and use Balerion to further his understanding of Valyrian architecture, a place remote without prying eyes to watch his every move.

As the year 100 A.C. approached, Jaehaerys Targaryen announced that his father, Crown Prince Baelon of Dragonstone, would replace Ser Reymund Redwyne. Along with this announcement, a tournament and a royal hunt were planned to celebrate the prince's new title.

A page out of the Journal of Aemon Targaryen The White Dragon

Aemon Targaryen 100 A.C. Tower of the Hand

"So, Grandfather has announced your appointment to the realm," he asked his father in the tower of the Hand.

"Yes, a tourney and a royal hunt will be held," his father replied, smiling at the seven-year-old boy. "How is your sister, Aemon? Is she already walking around like you?"

"She's doing alright. She has been walking, and most times, she doesn't fall. Rhaenyra, though, has been begging me for a ride with Balerion almost every day," he said with a chuckle.

"Please don't let that little girl pull you off, Aemon, or your brother and good-sister will have your hide."

"Yes, I know. Aemma has warned me repeatedly," he said with another chuckle. "So, are you excited to see Laena again? I've heard she will join her mother and father for the celebration."

His father's tone turned icy when speaking of Rhaenys and Coryls, as the succession of the throne was always a sore point for the family. He had been betrothed to Laena from the moment of her birth, a move made by his grandmother to foster unity in the family. However, Coryls had left his post as Master of Ships after Baelon was named heir instead of Rhaenys, the eldest child of his namesake.

"I am, Father. Rhaenyra, Alicent, and I always enjoy it when Laenor and Laena come to the city. It will be nice to see them again, Kepa," he said, smiling at his father.

"Come, son. I've done enough work for today. Up for a flight?"

"Yes, Kepa, I'm up for a flight," he said childishly. He and his mother had decided not to tell Baelon about his warging abilities just yet. They loved him and Visenya dearly but were unsure of his reaction. Knowing three of your most important people around you weren't supposed to be there would shock anybody, and as the Crown and Hand, his father had more than enough on his hands.

"Come, Kepa," he said, pulling his father by the Hand to the stable, with Ser Harrold following them as they made their way to the city. He rode on his black stallion, Snow, a name he found quite fitting. Along the way, he generously gave coins to common folk and orphanages, witnessing the joy on their faces, which always brought him happiness. He had sent many of them to Sea Dragon Point to help them find jobs and a better future for the children, a plan his father had found to be brilliant.

As they arrived at the Dragon pit Vhagar, the great green-blue she-dragon emerged from the pit, a massive creature measuring 120 meters in length. He felt his strong connection with Balerion, who was nearby and around twice the size of Vhagar. "Ah, my friend, are we flying again?" Balerion asked as he descended from the hills near King's Landing.

"Yes, my friend," he responded mentally, feeling Balerion's approval of their bond.

"It's astonishing your connection with the Dread, my son. It never ceases to amaze me," his father said as he stroked Vhagar's head. When Balerion landed, the ground trembled.

"Balerion," he exclaimed happily, running toward the massive dragon, stroking its head. One of the dragon keepers remarked in Valyrian, "That boy is a dragon himself. Not even the history books speak of such a bond."

"Come, Kepa," he said, climbing up the ropes and saddling himself as he reached the top. "Soar," he commanded, and with a mighty flap of Balerion's wings, they took to the sky. "Oh, I missed this, my friend," he said, stroking one of Balerion's thick scales. Balerion purred like a cat, a contrast to their terrifying reputation. Even dragons could be affectionate, much like humans, especially when treated kindly.

"Me too, my friend," the old dragon rumbled. Vhagar and Balerion soared through the sky, and a third dragon soon appeared. It was the brown she-dragon belonging to his elder brother. All three dragons roared in happiness. "Vanlongar, Kepa. Viserys," he said as he flew toward them. He saw Aemma smiling happily with her arms around Viserys for support.

"Good flying, brother, good-sister," he greeted them.

"Very, Aemon," Viserys replied happily. The weather was perfect for a peaceful dragon ride, with no wind or clouds, just the sun, which made conversation easier, requiring no shouting. However, even the dragon wings flapping could produce some noise if they wished to pick up speed.

"Come, Balerion," he shouted, and the dragon obeyed, making their way to Dragonstone. It was the longest part of the journey, taking no more than an hour at most. Upon landing at the beach, they dismounted.

"Ah, Kepa, I would love to be here more. The castle feels more like home than King's Landing," he said, gazing at his father.

"Well, it is our ancestral home, Aemon," his father replied, ruffling his hair. "But yes, we and the dragons do seem more at home here."

"I agree, Father. This is where we belong," he said, stroking Balerion's giant chin.

"Dragons made us rulers, my son, but they can also destroy us. My father always said that the only thing that can destroy the House of the Dragon is itself," his father told him, coming up behind him and placing his hands on his shoulders.

"Only when we are united are we the most powerful family in the world. Not even all the gold in the world can stand against us when we are united. That's the key, something I've also told your brother," Baelon said, looking at Viserys. "One day, or hopefully never, you will understand the truth of what I'm saying," Baelon added cryptically, casting a meaningful look at Aemon's younger brother.

"Do you understand, Aemon?" his father asked.

"Yes, Father. The dragons must stand united," he replied, showing a brave resolve. Little did he know that this unity would prove crucial in the future, as the world would descend into chaos in 200 years, with a terrible winter and the rise of the dead. The memory sent a shiver down his spine.

"Is everything alright, Aemon? You seemed lost there for a moment," his father said, looking at him with concern.

"Everything is alright, Father. I was just lost in thought for a moment," he said, smiling at his father.

"Well, let's go. We need to return to King's Landing before dark," his father said, and they mounted their dragons and took off into the sky, with the setting sun casting a wondrous glow on the world below.

Seven moons later, the tourney and hunt of the new Hand took place.

Aemon Targaryen (101 A.C. first moon)

Tourney Grounds

The tourney was a splendid affair. He wanted to participate but found great joy in watching it alongside Rhaenyra, Laena, Laenor, and Alicent. The tournament's final joust featured his father facing off against Ser Raym Redwyne, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"Father looks amazing, doesn't he?" he exclaimed, and his mother looked at him with a wide smile. 'She likely recalled the two previous occasions when she had been crowned Queen of love and beauty. He hoped that this time, he would witness his father's triumph. As he thought about it, he cast a knowing look at Laena,' the thought of crowning his wife bringing a smile to his face.

'Laena, a pure Valyrian beauty with silver hair, amethyst eyes, and milky skin, bore a striking resemblance to her mother. Princess Rhaenys also possessed Valyrian features, save for her Baratheon black hair. Standing beside them was the Master of Ships and his future father-in-law, Coryls Velaryon, known as the Sea Snake, an influential figure in the realm.' His thoughts were interrupted by the herald's announcement.

"Here comes Prince Baelon Targaryen, the Hand of the King, Crown Prince, and Prince of Dragonstone. He rides in the final tilt against Ser Raym Redwyne, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." The crowd erupted in applause as everyone rose from their seats.

The joust commenced with both riders galloping toward the center of the jousting field. The impact was thunderous as both men struck their opponent's shield. The crowd cheered in approval of the first pass. The second bout began swiftly, with both riders accepting fresh lances from their squires. This time, Ser Raym's lance hit its mark more accurately, but his father gained the upper Hand by the third pass. They were evenly matched again in the fourth and fifth passes, but in the sixth and final bout, his father struck true, unhorsing Ser Raym Redwyne.

His father quickly dismounted and extended a hand to help the older knight to his feet. Both men embraced in camaraderie, and cheers erupted from the crowd. His father then mounted his horse and rode toward his mother as Aemon had hoped.

"My lady wife, I would crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty," his father announced with a radiant smile, placing a wreath of winter roses on her lap. His father had arranged for the roses to be sent by his uncle Rickon Stark, knowing they were her favorite. Aemon had felt immense pride in being part of this moment, crowning his mother with the blue winter roses.

"Well done, Father," he exclaimed as he ran toward them. "Indeed, Father, you made an excellent choice. But for your victory, I have a surprise for you," Viserys said, appearing behind him. "Aemma is with child once again, and I hope to make you a proud grandfather once more," his brother announced with a wide grin.

"Oh, that's wonderful, my son. I hope you and Aemma are blessed with a healthy child," his father responded. Everything seemed to be going well, and in just five days, his father would officially still be alive, and the fear of his death would pass away. So he could one day ascend the throne as king. Aemon couldn't help but feel proud of the king. His father would become a great one, and he was sure of it, watching his family come together for this joyous occasion. Even Daemon had made the journey for the tourney, reuniting the family once more.

Jaehaerys Targaryen (101 A.C.)

Kingswood

'Everything had gone wonderfully. The joust had been a resounding success, and he had even witnessed Rhaenys smiling, mostly because she had seen her daughter with Aemon. Aemon, the boy, brought a smile to his face. He saw in him the promise of the prince who was to come—the Song of Ice and Fire. Balerion's interest in the child and his obedience, as if he were a loyal hound, had only strengthened his certainty. The future heir must carry his bloodline forward. He and Baelon had long discussed this strategy to reconcile with Rhaenys and Coryls. Aemon had been betrothed to Laena to bring their family back into unity.

Viserys, on the other hand, was expected to have a son, and he would marry a daughter or descendant of Aemon in the future. Their lineage would be vital to help Westeros face the looming storm from the North. He had feared the prophecy's arrival with each passing winter in his life. Yet, it had not materialized—except for those wintry emotions, the loss of his children, and ultimately, the death of his beloved Alysanne. Aemon reminded him of the heir who would guide Westeros into the future and the son he had lost.' The thought brought a smile to his face as he observed the people reveling on the first feast day of the hunt.

"Father, you're smiling. It's been a while," his son remarked, wearing a smile of his own.

"Yes, Baelon, I haven't felt this much peace since your mother's passing. The family seems to have healed and found happiness again. It brings me great joy, my boy," he replied, his voice filled with emotion.

"I feel the same way, Father. Even Daemon seems to have warmed to his other siblings. His time in the Vale may have softened him, though he was vehemently opposed to the match," Baelon said with a chuckle.

"Perhaps he has changed. Maybe, with time, he will become a grandfather like you and Aemon have. Just as the rest of you have, I've missed your siblings, Baelon," he admitted. Many of his children had passed away, but as a king, he couldn't forgive all that had happened. Nevertheless, he loved them deeply.

"I know, Father. I've missed them too. Perhaps you could write to Seara and try to mend the bond," Baelon suggested, speaking kindly. He, too, had felt the pain of losing a child. Little Aegon hadn't survived long after his mother's death, leaving Baelon melancholy until he met Lyanna, his good daughter, who had brought him out of it.

"Oh, Baelon, I wish I could. If you ever have the chance to go to Volantis, please tell her that I love her," he said, almost pleadingly, knowing that Alysanne had often implored him to send for her. But the unity of the realm and the humiliation she would have faced kept him from doing so.

"I will, Father, but I'm glad to hear you say it," Baelon replied before leaving to lead the hunt he had entrusted to the younger generation.

A few hours later, he sat outside the main tent, watching Baelon return with his three sons and a great elk on a sled.

"Well done, my kin! It appears fortune has bestowed upon us a grand feast," he declared as he stood from his chair. Aemon proudly presented a boar he had single-handedly felled.

"Grandfather, I slew this boar entirely on my own. Behold," Aemon declared with pride, pointing towards the boar resting on the second sled.

"Well done, my young Dragonwolf," he commended the boy, enveloping him in a warm embrace. Aemon's accomplishment at the tender age of nine filled him with hope and pride, seeing great potential in the lad.

"People of Westeros, my son, and grandsons have provided us with a splendid feast," he proclaimed to the assembled crowd. "Let us relish the bounty of meat and partake in the revelry for the coming two days. As we bid farewell to these days of tournament and merrymaking, we also celebrate my son's ascension to the Hand of the King and the successful conclusion of the first year of our rule after marking a century of Targaryen rule. Enjoy the festivities, one and all!" his voice echoed, carrying his words to every corner of the gathering.

Baelon Targaryen. (101 A.C.)

 Tower of the Hand

'The grand feast, known as 'the Feast of the Hand,' had been delightful. He had relished the festivities and the joy of crowning his beloved wife. The blue winter roses had adorned his head beautifully. Laena and Aemon had formed a close bond, and he could see that Aemon also enjoyed her company. For the first time in a long while, his father had smiled and openly admitted certain truths that had always been silently acknowledged.

The hunting had been the most enjoyable in years, and all three of his sons had cherished their time together. Even Daemon, who had previously shown little interest in his half-siblings, seemed to have warmed to them.' His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a searing pain in his belly. "By the Mother, what was that?" he cried aloud, gasping for breath as he sat in his chair in the Tower of the Hand.

"Father, are we going for a dragon ride?" a small voice called out, and he looked up to see Aemon standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, son, I don't think I can right now. I still have some work to complete today," he replied, his voice heavy with pain.

"Father, is everything alright?" Aemon asked fearfully, and the roars of Balerion and Vhagar resonated outside.

"Everything is fi..." He was cut off by another stabbing pain and collapsed into his chair.

"No, Father, please!" he heard his son plead, tears in his eyes. It was the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness.

"Baelon, please stay with us," he heard someone say as another wave of excruciating pain coursed through his abdomen. It felt as though he were aflame, akin to his dragon.

"My prince, you must lie still. The best you can do is avoid moving too much and disturbing the injury," an old voice advised.

"Save my father, you old wretch, or..." Daemon began, but his eldest son quickly scolded him.

"Ahhh," he groaned in agony as another surge of pain surged through him.

"No, please, Kepa, don't leave. I don't want to lose you," young Aemon cried in Valyrian.

"Oh, Baelon the Brave, be strong, my love," Lyanna said, her voice filled with love as she gently placed her hands on his face. "Can you please leave us for a moment? I wish to be alone with my husband," she requested firmly, the fierce she-wolf emerging.

"Baelon, thank you for all you've given me—our children, this family. Now, you must be strong and fight for us," she said, her voice full of love. Her words temporarily eased his pain as he gazed into her grey eyes.

"I love you, Lya, you and our children. After Alyssa... ahhh," he tried to speak, but the pain overcame him.

"Take it easy, my love," she said, holding his hand and kissing him, her tears making her lips salty. The kiss brought some relief.

"After Alyssa, I never thought I could love again, but you, my she-wolf, rekindled my heart," he said before slipping into unconsciousness once more.

He had no idea how long he lay there, but on the final day, his youngest son came to him. "Father, I'm sorry I couldn't save you, but I will try to save the rest of the family and the dragons. I will prepare the realm for what's to come. Thank you for being my father for these nine years. I couldn't have asked for a better one," Aemon said, his voice choked with sobs. Baelon was so out of it that he no longer felt the pain; his body seemed to be preparing itself for death.

"Aem, Aemon, I love you, my boy. Be happy, fall in love, and fulfill your duty to your family," he said, stroking his son's face as much as he was able to.

"Father, I couldn't save you, but Balerion was not alive before. I hope you will live as well," his son said, his voice full of despair and tears.

"Aemon, it wasn't your duty to save me. The gods decide, and you, my son, will have a role to play. I knew it the moment Balerion bonded with you. I am proud of yo..." He attempted to finish his words, but he felt everything grow cold and fade to black.

(In 101 A.C., during the first moon, Prince Baelon Targaryen died from a burst belly.)

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