The Birth of Dragons

Prince Aemon Targaryen

Vaes Dothrak smelt of horses and shit. The Dothraki were animals, they lived alongside their horses, and they probably fucked them as well. They were barbarians who fucked out in the open, not caring for decency or for common sense. They fought where they fucked, and fucked where they fought, and in the midst of it all, Daenerys was there, shining like a light, a light that was not his. He fucking hated that. Hated not being able to touch her, to kiss her, only being able to look at her, and then avert his gaze, whenever that cunt Drogo came near, lest he do something stupid, and Viserys like. His brother was being oddly admirable today, more sociable than he had been in years, and Aemon was cautiously hopeful.

His brother raises a cup of wine and Aemon raises his in recognition. "To the stallion who mounts the world." His brother toasts, taking a deep sip of wine.

"To the stallion who mounts the world, and his mother who births him." Aemon says in answer, taking a deep sip himself. This feels like a good night as any to get drunk as a rat's arse, his sister is sat somewhere, next to the horse fuckers and he cannot do anything about it.

"You forget the savage horse fucker who put the stallion within our dear sister, brother." Viserys jests, taking another sip of his wine.

"I did not want to think of him." Aemon grouches, taking a deep gulp of wine.

Viserys laughs, a soft sound, much like the laugh he used to laugh before. "Ah brother, do not look so glum. Daenerys will give the Khal his heir, the man has more reason to fight for us now."

Aemon looks at his brother, trying to see if he's drunk, he can't really tell, and so he asks. "What makes you think he won't simply kill off us both and try and put his cunt on the throne?"

Viserys eyes flash dangerously then. "Because he has neither the brains nor the wits to try. He wants gold and loot, that he will get when he helps put me on my throne." His brother takes a deep gulp of wine and then says. "As if I have been reduced to this. The Blood of the Dragon, forced to rely on aid from a horse fucker."

"It is the usurper's fault, and our supposed allies fault brother." Aemon responds, unable to keep the anger from his voice. "Had they not abandoned us, perhaps we might have had an actual chance. Perhaps we might be sitting in Westeros now, instead we are here, fucking carousing with horse fuckers." He spits then, drawing the eyes of some of the Dothraki, he glares at them, knowing he is getting more and more drunk, and not caring, he downs the rest of his wine and summons for another cup.

His brother does the same, then speaks. "You speak sense sometimes Aemon. You know, when you're not pining after our sister."

Aemon chokes on his drink, and Viserys sputters out in laughter. He puts his drink down and then says. "Aye, that is true. Though, I think you know more of our history than that fucking bear we have now. He told us Aegon the Dragonbane was our ancestor."

Viserys looks at him a moment then bursts out laughing. "Well what do you expect a Northman to know? He probably spent more time hitting ironborn then learning anything."

Aemon laughs, smiling, wondering why conversations with his brother cannot always be like this. "That is very true." He pauses, hesitating over whether or not to ask the question he so desperately wants to ask. Eventually he decides that the time is right. "Why have you accepted Ser Jorah into your service brother? He's a traitor to Westeros, he sold slavers, will that sit well with the people?"

Something flashes in his brother's eyes at the question, and for a moment he fears he has pressed too far. But then his brother merely says. "He knows things brother. He knows the usurper's court; he knows the usurper's lords like we do not. He was there for a long time. Jorah Mormont wants to go home, just like we do, and there is nothing a man like that won't do to go home. I can use that. To stay one step ahead of the usurper's knives, I would do anything."

Aemon feels like a little child again, trying to seek comfort in the words of an increasingly erratic brother. "Will we need to keep moving then brother? Will we never know peace?"

His brother looks at him for a long moment, then sighs. "I do not know brother. I wish I could tell you what will happen, but I cannot. All I can tell you is what I know. We have followers in Westeros, men who will rise for us, but we must get to them first." His brother looks around for a moment then says. "If we indulge these horse lovers their absurdities, then we might get what we want."

Aemon looks at his brother, then at the place where Dany sits beside her husband, looking somewhere between frightened, happy and sad at the same time, and it makes his heart hurt, and his anger swell within him. He forces the anger down though, he cannot ruin this moment now, not now. So instead he raises his cup and with forced mirth says. "To the Stallion Who Mounts The World, and the Dothraki and their absurdities."

His brother raises his cup in response and says. "And to us, the dragons forced to lie in bed with horse lovers." They clink their glasses and take deep gulps of wine. Sharing in their anger and resentment for just one moment, for Aemon knows that it is likely that his brother will not be the same tomorrow, and that fills him with more anger than he could possibly know what to do with.