Robert’s Second Chance: Dance of Dragons Rewritten (Completed)

Helaena

"You look positively beautiful, Cassandra," Helaena reassured her as she watched Cassandra's mother and sisters finish twisting her long black hair into braids.

She had spoken honestly. Cassandra was resplendent in her ivory gown. In Westerosi tradition, she honored both her own House and the House she was to be wed into. For House Baratheon, she'd used yellow thread for the embroidery work on the gown. Tiny yellow topazes as beading. For House Targaryen, she had chosen to wear a necklace…a rather large necklace shaped like a coiled black dragon around her shoulders and throat.

A natural beauty, Cassandra would be radiant as she walked down the aisle at the Sept to meet her betrothed….even with the slow trickle of tears flowing down her cheeks.

Oh, poor sweet girl…

Helaena was now seven months pregnant, and her belly had grown rather large, but nonetheless, she rose from her settee and waddled to Cassandra's side, giving her a sisterly kiss on the cheek and handing her a silken handkerchief to daub her tears.

"If you are not yet ready, Cassandra…" She had not thought before she'd spoken. Whether Cassandra was ready or not, the wedding could not be delayed. Not when all the Lords of the Stormlands had gathered at Storm's End to witness the nuptials. And especially not when the wedding between Aemond and Abby Tully had already been delayed for another year.

In fairness, Aegon had the perfect excuse to delay Aemond's wedding. Construction on King's Landing's new sewage system was underway, and the King did not wish to host a royal wedding within the city until it was completed. The Tullys agreed, but if the Crown were to delay another wedding that was arranged during the Dance, the realm might begin to suspect they were reneging on promises made.

Fortunately, Cassandra shook her head.

"No, your grace," she assured her. "I am glad to be wed to Aethan. And he is to leave in less than a week's time. I have no desire to wait for him to return before we can be joined. But…"

But you still mourn that your father is not here, Helaena thought, her eyes prickling with tears. I still mourn him as well.

As if sensing her mother's sadness, the babe in Helaena's belly gave her a firm kick, a small reminder of all the wonderful gifts her family had received because of Robert Baratheon.

I never would have conceived her had Robert not saved us all. Their entire family would have perished in the Dance of Dragons and its dark aftermath, only Rhaenyra's young sons left alive to lead House Targaryen into a future that was darker still.

And we are still learning to thrive in this new future that Robert built, for us and for the realm.

"Lord Borros was a wonderful man," Helaena said warmly, trying to hold back her own tears. "We all still mourn his passing. Even His Grace."

Of course, Aegon did not mourn Borros Baratheon. He had never known Borros Baratheon. He mourned for Robert. But alas, the world could never be told of such a thing, lest the Targaryens be branded as mad.

Nonetheless, the knowledge that her father was mourned granted Cassandra some comfort. Smiling, she daubed away the last of her tears, then turned to admire her reflection in the mirror.

"Do you think Aethan will like it?" she asked, touching her onyx necklace. It truly did look like the Cannibal. The jeweler had even placed a small emerald in its mouth to simulate the dragon's green flame.

"Of course he will," Helaena assured her. And not falsely. The necklace was a bit gaudy for Helaena's own tastes, but her cousin would love the depiction of his dragon.

He owes so much to that great black beast…

Aethan

"I told you to wait until after the wedding," Aethan groused as he plucked a few dead scales from the Cannibal's flank. "We both know you hate to fly with a full stomach. And I have no wish to be late for my own wedding."

The Cannibal could not even be bothered to pretend to feel remorse. Instead, he opened his mouth and let out a lusty, foul-scented belch reeking of half-digested whale.

"Lovely," Aethan said, nose curled in disgust.

In truth, he was grateful the Cannibal had developed a taste for whale flesh. The war known as the Dance of Dragons had ended six months prior. A war that had seen the death of eight Targaryen dragons, three of which the Cannibal himself had hunted. King Aegon wished to replenish the dragon population, and in order to do so, the hatchlings and eggs at Dragonstone needed to be left uneaten.

The Cannibal despised dining on livestock. He'd tolerated being fed for a month or so, but it wasn't in his nature to feast on the dead animals that Aethan brought to him (the Keepers were too fearful). The Cannibal's itch to hunt was far too great, and with King Aegon's order to leave the hatchlings and eggs of Dragonstone at peace, things could easily have taken an ugly turn…if not for Vhagar.

The only beast in the world larger than the Cannibal, Vhagar had been raised as a tame dragon and had no objection to being fed livestock. Now that the war was over and she needed to fly less, she also needed to eat less. Even so, the number of cows, sheep, pigs, or goats she needed to sustain herself was staggering for a country recovering from a war. Fortunately, Vhagar had seen a great many wars in her years, and she was equally comfortable hunting for herself.

Aethan had watched in awe the first time he saw Vhagar hunt a small whale, dipping down to the ocean and snagging one with her claws like a hawk snagging a fish from a lake. More than a meal even for her, she had left nearly half of it for the scavengers before flying off to her favorite cave to sleep. The Cannibal, intrigued, had flown to investigate the whale remains, finding that he liked the taste.

More than the taste, he liked the challenge. It took him several attempts to catch a whale of his own, but in time, he succeeded, and ever since, the hatchlings on Dragonstone had been left at peace.

So, Aethan could tolerate the fishy belches.

"I suppose I am glad that you've eaten now," Aethan conceded, plucking out a few more dead scales. Even shed, they were heavy and harder than steel. "We leave for the Dornish border in less than a week. Resting to feast may not be a luxury we can afford."

The Cannibal let out a small puff of air and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun warming his scales.

"I'm glad you're unworried," he said, laughing. "And I suppose I am as well, what with Aemond and Vhagar joining us. It is not as though I have no wish to go. The Dornish believe us weakened after the Dance. Their Princess tests our King's strength by testing our borders."

The Cannibal cracked an eye open, growling softly at the implication their land, a land under his protection, was thought to be weak.

"Raids of small villages have been increasing steadily over the past six months. And their Princess has ignored our King's attempt at peaceful resolution, denying wrongdoing. And now our spies report they are amassing a large encampment. The King believes they mean to take the Dornish Marches completely and that we may be at the dawn of a fifth Dornish War. Combat is the only option left to us."

This was doubly true for Aethan and his new bride-to-be. Their castle, Summerhall, was well under construction and a mere stone's throw from the Dornish border. Aethan would not have his new home threatened before he and his wife spent a single night within its walls.

"The family Cassandra and I shall build will be a cadet branch of House Targaryen," Aethan explained to the Cannibal, "just as the Karstarks are to the Starks. And it is our duty to defend our family's Kingdoms from all threats."

With a smile, Aethan strode forward and stroked a hand along the Cannibal's snout.

"And if I know you, my friend," he said teasingly, "I know you are eager to discover whether you can accomplish what Balerion the Dread failed to do: bring Dorne to heel."

King Aegon had no desire to complete the Conquest. He'd already proved himself a strong King when he led them to victory in the Dance. Instead, he wanted to focus his attentions and his gold on prosperity through economic, architectural, and agricultural advancement. But growth and peace were impossible whilst fending off invaders. So Aliandra Martell's men must at least be brought into line, if not to their knees.

Nonetheless, the prospect of succeeding where Balerion failed made the Cannibal growl, anticipation shaking his massive body and vibrating in Aethan's own chest. Laughing heartily, Aethan briefly rested his head against the Cannibal's scales, savoring his beast's excitement as though it were his own.

Mayhaps this coming conflict will make you want to stay by my side for the remainder of my life, he thought hopefully.

At his heart, the Cannibal remained a wild dragon. He'd grown fond of Aethan. He respected him as his rider and he obeyed direct instruction (to an extent), but he was not and would never be Aethan's property. He would never be perfectly obedient, following instructions in High Valyrian like a dog. He would never be saddled or fitted with reins. He would never grow lazy while tended to by the Keepers. He would not serve as a glorified horse, patiently flying Aethan from place to place and resting in an oversized stable in between.

And one day, he would want to return to the wilderness and live his life as he saw fit, free from human interaction.

But the Cannibal loved the thrill of warfare. He loved sharing Aethan's bloodlust when flying into combat. He loved breathing the pains of the Seven Hells themselves upon Aethan's enemies. Their bond flourished strongest in the heat of dragonfire.

And so the promise of a new war tempted the Cannibal into remaining by his side.

Mayhaps even once it's settled, you will remain with me at Summerhall. I will need to defend my new home, after all. No one would dare threaten it with you right outside its walls. I'm nearly at my thirtieth year. Surely I will not live more than another thirty or so. Those years will pass in the blink of a dragon's eye.

If the Cannibal sensed Aethan's desire, he gave no indication of it. It was entirely likely he'd made no decisions one way or another.

Then I shall have to savor each day that I spend as your rider.

"I have no intention of asking you to provide me with day-to-day transport," Aethan assured him. "But today is my wedding, and I wish to impress the Lords of the Stormlands by arriving on dragonback. I have been legitimized, knighted, and lorded by the King himself. Granted the name Targaryen. But some among them undoubtedly still view me as Daemon's bastard. A street rat. I wish to give them a visual reminder that I am no longer any such thing."

The Cannibal sensed his desire, then gruffed with indecision. He shared Aethan's desire to instill fear and awe into the Stormlanders who would one day be Aethan's neighboring lords. But he was also quite full, stomach hard at work digesting pounds of whale flesh, and he had no desire to fly.

Aethan rolled his eyes dramatically. "Very well. If you've gorged yourself into laziness, I suppose I shall look just as majestic and commanding astride a stallion."

Mayhaps it was the insult that affronted him. Or mayhaps it was loyalty. Either way, as Aethan turned from the Cannibal to walk back to the castle, a mighty roar sounded and footsteps shook the ground behind him before a massive wing blocked his path.

Smiling, Aethan turned to look into his dragon's eyes, laughing at the grumpy irritation he found. He didn't need to touch him to practically hear the Cannibal's thoughts as if they were his own.

They were not flattering.

"Thank you," Aethan said, walking to the Cannibal's flank so he could climb up onto his back. "And thank you for not smiting all of Storm's End as punishment for my insolence." 

Two Months Later

Aegon

Why did no one warn me that childbirth was a thing of terror?

He winced as Helaena screamed through another wave of pain, and he wanted nothing more than to rub her back or grip her hand, anything to offer her some small measure of comfort or to lend her his strength, but he knew his Queen too well to attempt it. Until this wave of pain was past, she could not abide being touched.

"Your grace," Orwyle tried again, "you needn't remain in the birthing room. I will happily come to alert you myself once the infant is in hand…"

But Aegon silenced him with a sharp jerk of his head.

I promised both Aemond and Helaena that I would remain by her side until her labors are over and she is resting comfortably.

Alicent was in the room with them as well, but his presence made Helaena feel safer still, and he was not moving from her side as long as she wished him to be here.

It is the least that I owe her…

It shamed him that he had not been in the castle when she birthed the twins. Aegon was scarcely out of childhood, freshly ten-and-seven. He was too young to appreciate the gravity of becoming a father, and he'd ignored Helaena's pregnancy, relieved that his duty to impregnate her was over. When Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were born, Aegon had been in a brothel, deep in his cups and surrounded by whores. He did not learn of his children's births until the next day, when Aemond came to collect him, so angry he dragged Aegon back to the castle by his hair.

In fairness, he was right to be furious.

In Aegon's defense, he loved Jaehaerys and Jaehaera from the moment he held them for the first time. Even at ten-and-seven, he'd grown to loathe himself, and the sight of those tiny, perfect babes had left him awestruck. Something so pure, and good, and wonderful had somehow come from him. He'd been a horrible son, husband, and prince, but he loved those babes. And when they were little, it amused him to watch them play and discover the world.

He'd done better with Maelor's birth, braced for what was to come. He'd remained in the castle when Helaena's time drew near, and he met him within an hour of his birth.

So much had changed this past year. He'd grown to love Helaena as his wife, not merely his sister, and nearly losing his children served to remind him that they were the most precious things in the world to him. The reason he had fought so hard for his crown, his throne, was so that they may grow in a world of peace.

By blood, this new babe was not his. She was Aemond's. But in many ways, she was his as well. In name, of course, but more importantly, she had been conceived of the love he, Aemond, and Helaena shared. In his mind, all three of them were her parents.

It pained him that Aemond could not be here as well. His brother had returned from his most recent mission on the Dornish border two weeks prior. But whilst he was in the castle, he could not be in the birthing room.

His brother wished to be, but it was frowned upon enough that Aegon himself was in the birthing room. Aemond's presence would be an outrage, and undoubtedly, it would stir rumors. So Aemond was forced to wait in his chambers, pacing back and forth nervously, until Aegon could reasonably justify telling him the babe had arrived and he could come to pay his respects to the new princess.

Fret not, brother. I have no intention of keeping your first child from you. You may spend as much time with her as you wish. We merely have to wait until there are fewer eyes upon us.

Helaena cried out in pain, snapping him out of his musings, and he whipped his head around to glare at the midwife.

"She's in pain!" he snapped, making the midwife flinch, but Orwyle reassuringly pat his shoulder.

"Your grace, the pain your Queen is experiencing is a normal part of the birthing process," he assured him. "Everything is progressing exactly as it should. I've given her all the milk of the poppy that I can reasonably allow her to drink. It will be over soon."

As the wave of pain subsided, Helaena smiled at him patiently.

"No need to fear, husband," she assured him, panting softly with exertion. "I have done this thrice before. The reward is worth the pain. Mercifully, this shall be easier than birthing the twins."

Then you are far stronger than I, sister.

King or no, Aegon nearly got himself banished from the room an hour later, when Helaena's screams grew louder and a panicked Aegon threatened to feed the midwife to Sunfyre. But at last, their little princess came into the world. Tiny but full of fire, she screamed in outrage, swinging her small pink fists and kicking her legs, as if already preparing herself for battle.

There are no battles for you to fight, sweet girl, Aegon promised, smiling as the maester examined her before passing her back to Helaena. You were born into a world of peace, just as I promised.

Exhausted though she was, Helaena smiled, eyes shining brilliantly as the babe was placed back into her arms.

"Hello, Lyanna," she said, gently stroking the babe's cheek as she leaned down to sniff the top of her head.

Alicent beamed at the sight of her newest grandchild, but through that sea of joy, her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"Lyanna?" she repeated.

"Lyanna," Aegon agreed, nodding and leaning in to examine the baby girl as well, smiling as she looked back at him with oversized blue-purple eyes, the same color as Helaena's. "A girl, just as we knew she would be."

Alicent's smile dimmed. "Lyanna isn't a Valyrian name," she said. "It's not even an Andal name. It's a Northern name. She has not a drop of Northern blood."

Thank the gods we practiced for this.

"She is to be Jaehaerys's Queen one day," Aegon said. "And she would never have been born if not for the contributions of all of our leal lords. She is Valyrian and Andal by blood. We wish for the North to be represented as well."

A lie. Her name was a tribute to Robert Baratheon. Robert helped the Greens thrive, in part, for the sake of his love for a woman named Lyanna. Had she been born a boy, her name would have been Robert.

But of course, that was a secret only he, Aemond, and Helaena could ever know.

"Hmmm," Alicent agreed, then gave a tiny shrug before she resumed smiling, even letting out the tiniest happy squeal as she leaned in to brush her fingers along Lyanna's wisps of silvery hair. "She's perfect. Our little Queen-to-be."

That makes three generations of queens all together in this room, Aegon thought.

Confident he could touch her now, Aegon kissed Helaena on the forehead, then leaned down to kiss Lyanna as well.

"I shall go and make the announcement whilst the maester finishes caring for you," he said. "But I shall return."

Wordlessly, he added, with Aemond.

Two Hours Later

I've forgotten how tiny they are, Aegon thought as he carried Lyanna to the nursery. Helaena was exhausted and needed to sleep, but Aegon was not yet ready to allow the nursemaids to take the babe, and so he carried her to the nursery himself.

At least, that was the story he had told. In truth, he was bringing her to the person waiting just outside the nursery.

For the first time in years, Aemond had left his chambers unarmed. No sword, no daggers, as if he feared the mere presence of a blade, even sheathed, might pose some threat to the infant. Freshly bathed as well, wearing clothes freshly laundered, as though fearful of getting her dirty. He startled a bit as he saw Aegon approach, standing straight and rigid but trembling ever so slightly.

A father for the first time, he thought, chuckling softly.

"How…" Aemond asked, voice cracking as he tried to keep his eyes on Aegon and not the newborn in his arms. "How fares her grace?"

I hate that you need be formal with me, lest someone overhears. But Aemond could not go with him into the nursery. They'd find no privacy there either, and it would be seen as strange. In a few days, of course, it would not be suspicious for an uncle to wish to visit his niece, but until then, Aemond would need to maintain the appearance of propriety. 

"Helaena is resting comfortably. The maester gave her a draft to help her sleep," Aegon assured him, smiling more broadly when Aemond tried and failed to keep from looking at the babe.

Oh, Seven Hells with propriety. He deserves to hold her.

"Our new princess," Aegon declared proudly, stepping in closer. "I would like for her uncle to be among the first to meet her."

Aemond stiffened, eye widening as he forced himself not to smile, rushing forward to meet Aegon. It was not Aemond's first time holding a babe (he'd held all three of Aegon's children when they were infants), but this was different. This babe had come from him, and the gravity of it made Aemond's hands shake until he stopped himself, closed his eye, and drew a deep breath to settle his nerves.

"There you are," Aegon crooned softly, waiting until Aemond cradled his arms before gently easing Lyanna into them. "Just like that, supporting her head."

Not that Aemond needed the advice. Never in his life had he seen his fearsome brother treat anything so gently, as if he were afraid the slightest twitch of his fingers would somehow bring her harm.

And then when he looked down at her, studying her tiny, perfect face for the first time, seeing her eyes that looked so much like Helaena's, Aemond immediately burst into tears.

Aegon knew he should say something. He knew he should remove Lyanna from Aemond's arms, lest any bystander or his guards grow suspicious. Lest rumors of her true parentage take wing. But watching his brother holding his daughter, their daughter, dignity forgotten, sobbing tears of joy…it was a thing of beauty, and Aegon lacked the heart to separate them.

Even when Aemond leaned down to kiss her tiny pink forehead.

Any would-be rumormongers can fuck themselves. I won't let fear of them deny him this moment.

"Well met, Princess," Aemond whispered to her softly.  

He made no attempt to rush Aemond, not until Lyanna started to fuss and he knew it was time to let the nursemaids tend to her. Even then, he took her back gently, brushing reassuring fingers along Aemond's forearm to ease the separation.

"She is yours as well," Aegon promised him softly, whispering in High Valyrian. "And I will not keep her from you. Not ever."

Aemond nodded, quickly swiped away his tears, then composed himself once again, the image of the perfect prince restored.

"I pray she will not need it, your grace, but I pledge my sword and my dragon to her. And I swear to guard her, as I have guarded you, with all of my strength."

I would expect no less. Aegon smiled, tears prickling his own eyes as he accepted Aemond's offer with a grateful nod before passing Lyanna to the nursemaid for tending.

"And in exchange for your offer, brother," he said, "I believe you deserve the honor of choosing the egg we shall place in her cradle."

Ten Months Later

Aemond

We knew we could not delay it forever…

A year and a half had passed since the end of the Dance of Dragons. A glorious eighteen months. Construction on Aegon's improved sewage system was finished, and the stench of King's Landing was already beginning to lessen. It still reeked of shit and corpses, but in less than a month, it did not reek half so much as it once did. It would improve more and more with time, now that Aegon was introducing sanitation laws to accompany the new system. Aemond doubted King's Landing would ever smell of perfume, as Oldtown did, but he believed the scent would be at worst mildly unpleasant, rather than foul.

Oldtown itself was faring well. They had visited again just last month to see the Starry Sept. The stone itself had survived Daemon and Rhaenyra's attack, and they had just finished replacing the glass, the wood, and the metalwork inside. Rain had at last washed away the last of the soot, and it was beautiful, as it once had been. As was the Hightower itself.

We shall have to visit more frequently. Especially with Daeron to marry Bethany in two years' time.

But before Daeron could marry Bethany, Aemond himself must honor his promise to House Tully and marry Abby.

A wedding they could no longer delay. Tonight, he shared Aegon's bed. But tomorrow night, he would be expected to share Abby's. To consummate the marriage, and hopefully to impregnate her with their first child.

At least Aegon swore to spare me the indignity of a bedding ceremony. He made the announcement well in advance that the consummation would be private.

Relieved as though he was to not have to endure that particular humiliation, it did not comfort him now. Not whilst he grieved for what he was about to lose.

Aegon's skin was still warm from their lovemaking as Aemond held him in his arms, resting his chin atop Aegon's head as his brother cried, holding him so fiercely it pained his ribs. But Aemond did not fault him for the painful embrace or for his tears. It was all Aemond could do to keep from shedding them himself.

Helaena had declined to join them on this last night. Aemond was grateful for it. Her tears would have broken him completely. That…and as much as he loved her, this was something that he needed to share with his brother.

"I will never leave you completely," Aemond promised him. "Abby and I will live our lives and raise our children in this castle. I will serve on your council. We will fly our dragons every day if you wish. Us and our children both…"

"I know it," Aegon said, his voice muffled by his tears and Aemond's chest. "I know it, and I am grateful for it. But it will never be the same."  

 No, it will not. And I will mourn it too. Their relationship could never truly be fraternal again. Nor could his relationship with Helaena. Not now that he'd lain with them as lovers.

But tomorrow I will make vows to honor Abby as my wife. Even with her permission, I cannot continue to love Aegon and Helaena physically…

And so for tonight, he did the only thing in his power to do. He held Aegon until his cries faded away and they drifted off to sleep together for the last time…

Or so he planned.

Three Months Later

Aemond

"You don't have to be so smug about it," Aemond said crankily, his head resting in Aegon's lap while he reclined against the headboard, wearing a satisfied smile.

"You have not truly committed a sin, brother," Aegon teased playfully. "You did not fuck me, nor did I fuck you. We pleased each other by mouth."

Aemond rolled his eye, sighing heavily. "Aegon…"

"And I am the King, after all. And the Targaryens have historically been granted exceptions to the rules of the Faith. If I declare it is not a sin…"

"Aegon," he sighed again, shaking his head as he sat up (ignoring Aegon's unhappy little grumble as he did). "I violated the spirit of my wedding vows, regardless of whether or not it was technically a sin."

Aegon's smile faded, and he reached over to stroke Aemond's jaw, brushing the pad of his thumb gently over the scar on his face. A small touch of affection that warmed Aemond's heart, and he lacked the will to brush Aegon's hand away.

I love you. I love you more than you will ever understand. And I wish we could be like this always. You, me, and Helaena.

"Brother, you have committed no sin that every Lord in Westeros has not committed at some point. No sin that I myself have not committed…and in truth, no sin that Helaena has not committed."

Helaena is innocent. You were present every time I touched her. She is not guilty of adultery if her husband was also in the bed. But as for Aegon himself…Aemond had no argument for that.

"I love you," Aegon said, staring deeply into his eye. "And I know you love me and Helaena. Tell me, brother, are you truly happy keeping away from us? Sharing your bed only with Abby?"

No.

Still newlyweds after only three months of marriage, Aemond grew fonder of Abby by the day. She made him laugh. She was an excellent confidante when he needed to talk. She was his friend. A friend he was quickly growing to cherish.

But he loved her only as a friend. Sharing her bed gave him pleasure, it was true, and he knew he pleased her in turn, but there was no love in it. A duty, albeit a pleasant one. He never once felt the true happiness he'd felt while falling asleep in Aegon's arms. Or Helaena's. He did not ache for her the way he did his siblings. 

Happily, she believed she might be with child, and Aemond was overjoyed to hear it. He was eager to be a father again. And…admittedly, he was a bit pleased he would not be expected to perform his husbandly duties for some time.

"If I had my wish, I would find a way for the three of us to be wed," Aemond admitted.

Aegon smiled, a true one this time, and he leaned in to kiss him. A kiss that made his belly dance and his eye flutter closed, even after Aegon pulled away.

"Then come back to us," he pleaded.

Duty and honor demanded he refuse…but he could not bring himself to do it. Not when the ghost of Aegon's kiss still lingered on his lips. A nectar sweeter than honey and warmer than the rays of the sun.

He could not deny him. He did not want to deny him. Duty and honor be damned.

"We cannot be together as often as we once were," he said. "But I will not delude myself into believing I can keep away from you forever. You or Helaena."

It wasn't the answer Aegon wanted. But after a brief pause, he sighed, nodding and kissing him again.

"Then I shall be grateful for what you are willing to give," he said. "And I vow that every moment you share with us shall be glorious enough to sustain you whilst you are away."

Impossible. My hungers for you will never be sated.

But happiness was a rare and beautiful thing in this cruel world in which they lived. And the Greens had already been so thoroughly blessed. More than enough to content him.

Two Years Later

Helaena

"You are prepared?" Aegon asked her worriedly as she eased into the padded chair before the hearth in Dragonstone's library.

His concern touched her heart. It had scarcely been three months since their youngest son, Robert, had come into this world, and although the maester gave her permission to fly, she understood her brother's fear. Robert's birth had been more difficult and her recovery slower. So much so, in fact, that the maester warned them that it would be best if Robert were their last child.

Just as well. I always wished to have five.

All the same, her brothers had become a bit overbearing in their protectiveness over her, and both had wanted to wait to make this journey to Dragonstone. But deep within her bones, she had felt a calling that she knew she could not ignore. The time was now.

Outwardly, the royal family's trip to Dragonstone was justified. Jaehaerys was now ten years old, and they wished to spend a few weeks here so that he may come to know the island he would one day rule in preparation for his role as King. Robert also needed an egg for his cradle, as would Aemond's second son with Abby (who was due to be born on the next turn of the moon). Dreamfyre had no fresh eggs available, but Silverwing had just brought forth a fresh clutch now that Vermithor had returned to Dragonstone (Hugh Hammer still lived and had visitation privileges, but Aegon insisted Vermithor remain on Dragonstone for breeding purposes). 

But the true reason for coming to this island was so that Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond may scour its ancient library for clues as to the Song of Ice and Fire, and mayhaps to at last learn the secrets of the Conqueror's dagger.

It was Aemond who found the records on Valyrian steel and suggested resting the blade in the glowing hearth. "Some pyromancers could enscript messages onto Valyrian steel that are only visible when the blade is heated," he explained. "That could be why the blade reflects the light in a strange fashion."

And so it would seem he was right. Almost the instant the blade began to glow orange, the writing began to reveal itself.

It's time.

Drawing a deep breath, Helaena reached down to wrap her hand around the handle of the blade. And the instant her flesh touched it, her vision faded to black…

310 AC

Winterfell

"Aegon Targaryen," the herald announced as the Northern Lords and Ladies in Winterfell's courtyard sank to their knees in a deep genuflection, "Sixth of His Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. His Queen, Rhaenys Targaryen. And their siblings…"

One by one, the herald announced the names of the Princes and Princesses who had joined the King and Queen on their journey North, along with their cousins, both from Summerhall and King's Landing. In the largest assembly of dragons since the days of Old Valyria, the Targaryens had brought twelve great beasts, some monstrous in size. They had more, of course, but they were either young hatchlings or bonded to riders too young to bring to war.

With luck, twelve would be enough.

King Aegon VI would have been recognizable even without the herald's announcement. The crown of Aegon the Conqueror rested on his brow, and his black armor bore the Targaryen dragon sigil incrusted with rubies. Armor he'd accompanied with a cape of metallic gold fabric, a gesture to honor his golden dragon, Sunfyre.

Striding forward, Aegon gestured for the Lord of Winterfell to rise to his feet, and one by one, the rest of the Northern Lords followed suit.

"Your Grace," Lord Brandon Stark greeted him grimly, "your family is most happily met. It saddens me that we must meet again under such dark circumstances." 

Aegon nodded stoically in turn. "I am too young to remember the last time I saw Winterfell," he admitted. "Not since I was a babe of two, when my aunt was wed to your brother, Eddard."

A match done to maintain the centuries of good relations between House Targaryen and House Stark. Princess Daenys had been a good match for Ned. Spirted, playful, and mischievous, the Princess had a kind heart and was one of the only ones capable of making Ned laugh. She had given him four children, all growing into honorable young men.

Brandon had been pleased to have a dragon in the North. Princess Daenys's beast was young and small, but she was more than suited to deter the occasional band of Wildling invaders. But when it became clear that they faced a far deadlier foe, Daenys had flown to King's Landing with a desperate plea for help.

A plea King Aegon had answered brilliantly.

"My family always knew this day would come," Aegon declared, his fingers absently brushing the handle of a dagger strapped to his thigh. "I never dreamt it would be me to lead us."

But Brandon could think of no one better suited.

Under King Aegon's rule, all available fighting men from Sunspear to the Wall, from Lannisport to Driftmark, had assembled in the North, armed to the teeth with dragonglass weapons. All prepared to follow their brave Dragon King into the first war Westeros had seen since King Jaehaerys II formally brought Dorne into the fold in the early years of his reign.

For none but the Others were fool enough to challenge the Kingdom of Dragons.

The Others themselves may be immune to the flame, but the wights are not.

"It has been House Targaryen's duty since the days of the Conquest to serve the realm, and we are prepared," Aegon declared. "My son, Robert, is but a babe, but he is fierce, and he is strong. Should I fall in battle tomorrow, I believe he will make for a good King one day."

It seemed strange to Brandon that 'Robert' had become a recurring name in the Targaryen dynasty. But he supposed it was a minor mystery when compared to the others within the House of the Dragon.

"Let us pray that he will not become King for a great many decades, Your Grace," Brandon said.

Aegon offered him a smile. "Indeed."

As if agreeing with his rider, Sunfyre's mighty roar pierced the horizon as the great golden beast took flight, so massive in size that his wings cast all of Winterfell into shadow as he soared through the air.

"We saw a herd of elk on our flight," Aegon explained. "He wishes to prepare himself for battle with a light meal."

His smile broadened as everyone from the Lords to the stable hands stared up at Sunfyre in wonder and awe as the setting sun's rays glistened off his golden scales. Even now, after the birth of so many Targaryen dragons, he remained the most beautiful to ever live.

Brandon shook his head, dumbstruck. "Hard to believe he's not the largest, as well as the most beautiful."

Aegon laughed. "No, that title belongs to Vhagar. When she eventually met her end, she was larger than even the Black Dread himself. Even amongst the living dragons, Sunfyre is only the third largest."

But unlike Vhagar, who had many riders, Aegon was only Sunfyre's second. Heartbroken after King Aegon II died of old age, Sunfyre mourned for near a century and a half before accepting a new rider, something the Keepers believed would never come to pass.

Just as some believed the Song of Ice and Fire would never come to pass.

And now it would be the great golden beast that led their host into battle.

"Tell me, Lord Stark, how long do your scouts predict before the Others reach the Wall?"

For this question, Brandon turned to look over his shoulder at his sister, and Lyanna stepped forward, eyes shining with winter fire.

"Maybe a day's march, your grace," she answered respectfully. "My scouts and I have interrogated the Wildlings who've made their way South of the Wall. But it is hard to predict. The creatures do not sleep, you see."

If the King felt fear, he did not show it.

"They will sleep in the Seven Hells," he declared grimly. "Along with all others who threaten my House or our Kingdom..."

Helaena

"Sister?" Aegon said, snapping her out of her vision and sending the hot dagger clattering to the floor. "Helaena, what is it?"

She blinked twice, slowly shaking her head as she let her eyes fall to the cooling dagger.

"Victory," she whispered back. "The whole of the realm united as one under a Targaryen dragon King. Our descendant…" Turning her head, she found Aemond standing on her opposite side, and she reached to take his hand as well. "From all three of us."

And it is our duty to pass down the knowledge of what is to come so that he may be ready.

"You will live to be an old man, Aegon," she instructed, smiling at him lovingly as she rose to her feet. "So there is no need to taint Jaehaerys's childhood by asking him to bear the burden of this secret too early. We shall tell him when he is a man grown."

"Tell him what?"

She didn't answer immediately, instead walking to the tomes. The library had several books with blank pages, waiting to be filled, and she took one from the top of the pile, along with a bottle of ink.

"We shall keep the dagger as proof," she said. "But the rest of the story will require more explanation…"