106 AC

Dragonstone

The ancestral home of House Targaryen was a place of Dragons and Dragonlords.

The very architecture of the castle reflected that. There were great dragon wings framing gates, and dragons claws for torch brackets, even the archways were built into the maws of stone dragons.

One could even see sculptures of gargoyles, and basilisks, and demons of all kinds, perched on the castle's battlements.

And the entirety of this immense Citadel, had been carved from polished black stone, by the Valyrians.

Surrounded by sea on all sides, this solitary Citadel of coiled stone dragons, rose tall in the sky.

It was an awe-inspiring sight.

Aemon had been living here for the last six months. And despite Dragonstone's grim countenance, he had found the place charming in its own way.

Aegon's Garden was one such place - charming and beautiful. A splash of color, among an island of darker hues.

Aemon and Mysaria were breaking their fast here, today.

Being in the second trimester of her pregnancy, Mysaria had gotten big.

Soon after they had arrived on Dragonstone, Daemon had gotten Mysaria with child.

Learning that he would become a father once again, had changed Daemon for good, it seemed.

It was as if an invisible pall of gloom had been lifted off of him, and at long last he could smile again.

For months he had battled for his brother's recognition and respect in King's Landing.

But in the end, he had lost.

Yet, instead of being shattered by this loss, it seemed as if Daemon had been born anew.

It seemed that getting away from the snake pit, that was King's Landing, had done him a world of good.

The servants laid out their breakfast, as Aemon struck up a conversation with Mysaria.

"The crystals need to be darker. These are lilac, a proper brew would result in deep purple, amethyst-like crystals." She said, examining the crystals carefully.

"So I need to leave the mixture soaked in ash for longer?" Aemon asked.

"Yes, that will do it. I think." Mysaria answered.

"Still I don't quite understand your fascination, with the Strangler. It's a terribly inefficient poison. The ingredients are costly, it takes long to prepare, and in spite of all that trouble it's quite easily detected." She said.

"It's great for sending someone a mesage." Aemon replied.

"That is another thing I have found peculiar. Sending messages with one's murders." She sighed. "A true asassin would make sure that no one even suspects, that it's murder."

"So, what news from the Capital?" Aemon asked, changing the subject.

"You know very well, what's happening there." Mysaria replied rolling her eyes.

"The King's new wife." Aemon said.

"Alicent Hightower - Queen of the Seven Kingdoms" Mysaria nodded.

"I gather Daemon wasn't too pleased." Aemon asked.

"That's an understatement." She said, "In fact, I get the feeling that he's plotting something with Lord Corlys. I have seen him writing to him, quite often recently."

"And as for our business interests in King's Landing. They are flourishing. I left one of my girls - Maia in charge and she's handling things well. But I must admit some jealousy. Your Jahanara is something else. 'The Velvet Pearl' seems to have become the premium establishment on the Street of Silk, under her care." Mysaria said.

"What can I say, other than I have a discerning eye for talent." Aemon quipped.

"Well I don't know about that, but you certainly do seem to have a talent for boasting." She chuckled.

After they had settled down from their mirth, Aemon leaned forward in his seat.

"That is all well and good, Mysaria. But I think is alone isn't enough. We need to diversify."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"The way things are we can be rich enough. But I don't think you are satisfied with 'richer enough'. Are you?" He asked.

"Hah! Of course not. I could have been 'rich enough' in Lys. I want more." She said, licking her lips.

"Great people think alike. I guess." Aemon smiled.

"Very well, I have quite a few ideas. But first know this. There will be some ideas that I will execute on my own. Allies we may be, but our businesses remain separate." He said.

"Fair enough." She nodded.

And so Aemon began, "First we need to buy more businesses, not just in King's Landing and not just brothels. Taverns, inns, breweries, and gambling houses, in all the major cities of Westeros. Lannisport, Oldtown, Gulftown, White Harbour. This will not only bring in more money, it will help us expand our information network."

"That sounds reasonable" She said, "of course, first we need ti save up sufficient funds. Could take a few years."

"Yes, capital will remain a concern in our expansion." He said, brushing his chin worriedly.

"I may have a solution. We will need ships - trading galleys. The only way to make money fast is as Lord Corlys did it, through voyages." Aemon continued.

"It's true that we lack his expertise, so we will compromise. There must be someone in his original crew, who doesn't work for him anymore. Find him. We will offer him employment. And although, I won't trust them to sail as far as Lord Corlys did, as long as they can sail to the Free Cities, with the occasional trip to Qarth. We will make a killing." He finished.

"Sounds expensive." Mysaria said. "Not to say, improbable. Even if we find this person and even we can convince them to work for us. Ships are costly. And we will also need to buy permits to trade and sell in the Free Cities. Let me assure you, those don't come cheap."

Aemon sighed, "It occurs to me we could solve all our problems, with more gold."

"It occurs to me too." Mysaria smirked. "But till we have that gold, ambitious plans such as these need to be put on hold."

Aemon nodded in acceptance. It seemed the answer to everything was more time and money.

He didn't have the money, but he did have the time.

Aemon could afford to wait a few years. He was only nine after all.

They ate in silence for a while.

The bacon dripping with grease, and the sausages crackling with fat, had been cooked till they were crispy. Just as he liked it.

There were poached eggs with runny yolks.

And fresh, warm bread, toasted till golden-brown.

Applying a generous portion of butter to the bread, Aemon broke the silence.

"So where is Daemon? Haven't seen much of him the last few days." He asked.

"Neither have I" Mysaria said, taking a bite out of a succulent peach.

"The servants tell me that, he's been visiting the Dragon hatcheries quite often, lately. Maybe Caraxes laying a new clutch of eggs." She shrugged, nonchalantly.

Aemon had been attentively lathering honey onto his toast. But hearing her words, he froze.

There could only be one reason Daemon was visiting the hatcheries now.

It seemed history was determined to repeat again. He wouldn't let it.

He had to stop Daemon from doing anything foolish.

"So Aemon, what do you want? A younger brother to play with, or a little sister to spoil?" Mysaria asked with a mischievous smile.

"I will be happy with either one." Aemon said, "I have always wanted a sibling."

And it was true too, he had long wanted siblings.

Even though he had never been lonely growing up, with Laenor, Laena and Rhaenyra always being there.

But he had always wanted a larger family.

His only close family was his father. And Daemon could be distant.

Having a sibling would be fun. Aemon thought.

At the back of his mind a voice whispered, that a sibling would mean another dragonrider on his side. He ignored that voice.

"Aemon, could you help me to my rooms", Mysaria asked. "Time flies so fast while we're talking, I'm afraid I might've kept the Maester waiting."

They had dismissed the servants during the meal, knowing they would be discussing sensitive topics.

So it was Aemon's responsibility to guide her back to her rooms.

The serpentine stairs of Dragonstone were not suitable for a pregnant woman to climb on her own.

So Aemon led her to her chambers in the Sea Dragon Tower.

The Sea Dragon Tower was shaped like a dragon facing the Sea. It's turnpike like stairs narrow and twisting, were a steep climb even on a normal day.

Climbing it while guiding a woman heavy with child, was slow going.

It took them a while to reach Mysaria's rooms, where her servants took her in their care.

After Aemon had handed Mysaria off to her handmaids, he started walking back to his rooms in the Stone Drumm.

Aemon was lost in thought.

There had to be a way to change fate. To save Mysaria and his future brother or sister.

He needed to convince Daemon.

A thing easier said, than done.

-------------------

Dark Sister's rippling blade missed him by a few inches as he ducked under Daemon's swing.

Immediately, a spray of sand flew into his face stinging his eyes, and sending him reeling to the ground.

Daemon had kicked up the sand layered on the yard, at him.

As Aemon hurriedly scurried away, he felt the whisper of a blade snipping off a few hairs on the back of his head.

"And now you're dead." Daemon said, sheathing his sword.

Panting heavily Aemon got to his feet, managing to sheathe Nightbinder after a few fumbles.

"You cheated." He said, in between gulps of air.

"You kicked sand in my face." He groused.

"That I did." Daemon agreed.

"But do you think in a real battle, your foe will fight honorably?" He asked.

"Of course not. Only fools and dead men, fight honorably."

"In a real battle you do anything you have to, to survive. All that matters is that you win. For losing means death."

"And don't forget that I'm fighting with my left hand. If I were to fight with my right hand instead, you'd be dead before you could blink." Daemon said.

"I'm only nine. I'll learn." Aemon sulked.

Daemon's amethyst eyes focused on him.

"That you will. I'll make sure of it." He said, staring at him carefully.

"But first you need to learn to fight dirty."

"Remember, in a real fight there is only one rule. Winning." He said, tossing him a canteen of water.

So prepare yourself, I'll be teaching you how to win."

And so, they sparred for the next hour.

And even though, he had his ass handed to him almost every time.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He got back up and tried again.

After all, it was not everyday, that the" Rogue Prince" trained someone.

After they had finished with training and had freshened up, Daemon wanted to show him something.

So Aemon followed him, walking down the winding stairs and gloomy halls of Dragonstone, till the reached a pair of massive bronze doors. On the door was engraved the image of a Dragon' open maw. And in front of it, two Dragonguards in black scaled armour stood guard.

This was Dragonstone's dragon hatchery.

Located deep underground, the volcanic heat of the Dragonmont, kept this place hot all year round.

And as they passed the bronze doors entering the chambers itself, Aemon saw the huge cavernous room, that seemed to have been hollowed out from the rock itself.

Heat flowed throughout the entire room, and the scent of brimstone was strong in the air.

The walls and floors, were all hot to the touch. And pointed spikes of volcanic glass sprouted from the floor and ceiling.

It seemed as if the room itself had been carefully designed, to trap the heat in.

Aemon followed his father, as he walked deeper into the room.

After sometime, Aemon started to notice that there were deep holes dug in the floor of the cavern, there resting on beds of hot coal, were dragon eggs.

They walked past dozens of such eggs. Some of them seemed to radiate a heat of their own, sparkling like brilliant jewels in the dark.

While others, were cold and dull petrified rocks. Beautiful to look at certainly, but otherwise lifeless and empty.

Finally they stopped at an alcove, about two-thirds of the way into the room.

It like the others had a deep hole dug into the ground, Daemon reached in and started pulling out dragon eggs, one by one.

There were a total of five, three bright and full of life and the other two petrified and lifeless.

These three eggs shone brightly, their very presence heating up the surrounding air.

They were mesmerizing - the largest was a purple egg with swirls of liquid gold. The other two were, a platinum egg flecked with gold, and a bright crimson one with pitch black swirls.

"Caraxes recently laid this clutch of eggs. Pick one that you like." Daemon said.

The moment of truth had arrived, Aemon had to prevent his father from committing another folly.

"I don't think this is such a good idea, father. The King prevented you from giving me an Egg before." He said.

"That was different, those eggs belonged to the Crown, these eggs are mine. Caraxes laid them." He argued.

"All dragon eggs truly belong to the Crown, father." He said.

Daemon glared at him, "So what? My brother insulted me, drove me from the Capital. He took what is rightfully mine. Why shall I bend to his whims? If I want to give my bastards dragon eggs, I will give them dragon eggs. He will just have to deal with it. Just like I had to accept his choice for Heir. Now, do you want an egg or not?"

Aemon tried again hesitantly, "Father, I'm afraid this will anger the King. And after the incident at the capital, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I told you not to bring that up again", Daemon said gritting his teeth. "And as for angering the King, I could care less about that now."

It seemed Daemon wouldn't budge. Despite Aemon's continued efforts he remained adamant on defying Viserys.

"Now if you don't want an Egg let me pick one for Mysaria's child. And when you change your mind, come to me, I'll give you yours." Daemon said.

"If you must persist in this, give her the purple egg. It's the biggest one." Aemon sighed.

If he couldn't change Daemon's will, he would embrace it.

And as for taking a dragon egg for himself, he didn't even consider it.

Hatching and growing a dragon took too much time and effort.

If he wanted to change the future, and affect the course of the Dance itself, he needed a bigger Dragon.

A much bigger Dragon.

-------------------

Dark wings, dark words.

If that were true, then the raven that brought Viserys' words to Dragonstone, was an especially dark one.

The King was furious. He wanted the Egg returned and Mysaria gone.

And Daemon was helpless before his brother's words.

For denying him, would make Daemon a traitor.

So he accepted the decree.

He didn't accept it gladly or in fear, instead he accepted it in wrath and rage.

But in the end, he still accepted.

"So you're just going to send me to Lys. Now! When I'm seven months pregnant!" Mysaria shouted.

"I don't have a choice", Daemon ground out, "It's a royal decree."

"You have a choice. You just choose to ignore it." She said.

"What are you insinuating woman? That I take up the sword against my own brother. That I become a traitor to the Crown!" Daemon roared.

"I didn't ask you to do that. I asked you to refuse."

"And then what? I'll be in defiance of the King's decree. All I'll have waiting for me would be a traitor's death."

"You speak big Daemon. But when your brother whistles at you, you come running like a loyal dog." She spat.

"Mind your tongue woman, you speak to a Prince!" He growled.

"A cowardly Prince, it seems!"

"Enough!" Daemon roared.

"I have heard enough. No more. My choice is made, you'll depart for Lys on the morrow."

"You'll have men to guard you and enough gold to live a life luxury, in Essos. And that's that." He finished.

"Very well then, I won't beg you. I have my own pride. And as for your gold, keep it."

Saying, Mysaria stormed out of the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Aemon had known this would happen. He had tried to stop Daemon.

He had failed. Again.

And now, he would have to face the consequences.

Fate seemed to roll on inevitably, crushing his efforts and hopes continuously beneath its wheel.

And more than anything, the fact that his 'Book' didn't mention Daemon and Mysaria's child at all, he found ominous. He feared, something would happen to Mysaria and his unborn sibling.

Aemon had to act.

He got up and started walking towards the door. He had to talk to Mysaria.

"Where are you going boy."

He froze in his steps, on hearing Daemon's voice.

Turning, he said, "I need to talk to her."

Daemon just looked at him blankly for a while, before finally giving him a tiny imperceptible nod.

After some searching Aemon found Mysaria curled into herself, at the foot of the stairs to the Sea Dragon Tower.

As he walked up to her, he saw that her makeup was smudged, the kohl ringing her eyes was now running down her cheeks.

It seemed she had been crying.

He sat down beside her, on the stairs.

"Do you want me gone too, Aemon?" She asked him.

"Never." He said.

"You're my business partner and more than that, you'll soon be the mother of my sibling."

"At least someone wants me to stay." She said with a rueful smile.

Aemon had never seen Mysaria like this.

She was always so self assured and confident. She was his mentor, his teacher. His friend.

But now stripped of all the walls that she usually put up. He could see the girl.

The girl was young and afraid.

And he was helpless to help her. Once again.

"I'll try to take some sense into Daemon." He said, knowing full well that it wouldn't help.

It seemed Mysaria knew it, too. For she smiled at him, sadly.

"I'll try not to get my hopes up. One can't talk sense into someone without any sense." She said.

She ruffled his hair. And then gathering herself, she began the long, lonely, ascent to her rooms.

As Aemon watched her walk away, he felt a tenseness building in his chest, and a wetness on his cheeks.

It seemed that he was crying.

This couldn't stand. He had to talk to Daemon.

Wars and death he didn't mind, he could handle them. But emotional turmoil, that was a whole other thing.

Aemon hadn't signed up for emotional turmoil.

Daemon wasn't in the Chamber of the Painted Table where he had left him. Neither was he in his own chambers, or the Great Hall. He searched all his usual haunts without any success.

Finally, he found Daemon where he would least expect him to be.

He found him in Dragonstone's Sept.

However, Aemon's shock was still somewhat mitigated, when he saw Daemon sitting before the Seven, drinking.

"Father you can't do this." Aemon said, walking up to him.

"What is it now?" He said, "Can't you lot let me drink in peace."

His speech was slurred.

Aemon turned Daemon towards him.

"Father, listen to me. Don't do this. There's another way."

"You have Caraxes. Let me claim one of the wild dragons on Dragonstone. Lord Corlys doesn't have any liking for Viserys. Especially now, after he denied the Velaryons again by marrying Alicent Hightower. Let us ally with him. If you promise to marry Laena and make her your Queen. He'll support you. The Velaryons have three dragons - Vhagar, Meleys and Seasmoke. Together we'll have five to Viserys' one. And they also have plenty of gold, and ships, and men. Lord Boremund of Storm's End will support them. And although, the Starks are no oathbreakers, they will surely support one of their own kin. Father, we can win this. You will be King. Things will be different then." He said.

Even drunk Daemon was alert. He turned to face Aemon, coldly.

"Boy, you have no idea what you're saying." He growled.

"Your brilliant solution involves starting a civil war. And what then, even after we win. Do you want me to slay my brother then. For his crown? I'll be a kinslayer. No better than Maegor. And what of Rhaenyra then? Would you want me to kill her too? Your childhood friend, whom you grew up with!"

"There's no need to kill her. You could marry her to your Heir, to solidify your claim." He said.

"To you, you mean. And then what? Would Rhaenyra love you then, when your hands are bloodied with her dear father's blood? She would hate you. And that hate, would eat you up. You couldn't trust her. How could you? When she wanted you dead. Not to say anything of the Velaryons. They wouldn't hesitate to grab more power, the moment they see our reign faster."

"No! That way, lies destruction." He sighed.

Aemon clenched his fists, "Then what would you have us do. Just sit here doing nothing, as Mysaria is sent to Lys?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do." He replied.

"The child will die", he ground out.

He probably shouldn't have said that, but he couldn't just do nothing. Mysaria deserved better.

"If you send her to Lys. She'll lose the child." He said.

Daemon looked at him darkly, "Don't be ridiculous. The Sea is calm this time of the year and I'll be sending guards to protect her."

"I'm telling you, if you send her there, the child will die. Your blood will die, Daemon." He screamed.

"Enough of this stupidity! You'll speak no more of such ill portents."

"Guards", he called.

"Take my son to his quarters. He's to stay there, till Lady Mysaria leaves tomorrow. I don't want him causing anymore trouble." Daemon said.

Aemon continued to protest, as the guards led him away.

But his words fell on deaf ears. Daemon returned to his wine.

--------------------

A week had passed since Mysaria had left.

Since then, the Velaryons had arrived.

Probably because, Lord Corlys wanted to recruit Daemon for the War in the Stepstones.

Aemon knew, he could only rely on himself. He couldn't let his unborn sibling die. He had to save Mysaria and her child.

Aemon wanted to change fate. And for that he needed to act.

So long had he relied on words alone, that he had forgotten one crucial thing, 'words alone, without the power to back them up, were meaningless'.

He needed power. He needed a Dragon.

And so he waited and watched, for the most opportune moment.

This however wasn't easily achieved.

After Mysaria left, Daemon had become more cautious.

He worried that Aemon would do something stupid - which to be honest, he wasn't wrong about.

And so alongside Aemon's own protectors Rowan and Bill, Daemon had assigned two of his own household guard to keep an eye on him.

"Is it done?" He asked.

"Yes. We are garrisoned in the same barracks, and eat the same meals. It wasn't hard to lace their food with that grey powder you gave us." Rowan said.

"Good. That ought to keep them knocked out the rest of the day." He sighed in relief.

Rowan hesitated, "Are you sure of this?" He asked.

"Of course I'm sure", Aemon said packing up his supplies. He took some beef jerky and a canteen of water, with him.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't have sent you to drug my father's men now, would I?" He said strapping Nightbringer at his side.

"Anyways, I have to go now." He said heading fir the door.

"Good luck, boy." Rowan said, "And in case you don't make it....I just wanted to say it's been good working for you."

"You could be more encouraging than that." Aemon chuckled.

"Don't worry I'll make it. And when I return, I'll buy you and Bill as many drinks as you want."

"None of the cheap stuff." Rowan huffed.

Aemon only laughed, as he walked out of his rooms.

It was just after dawn, no one was up and about this early, so he felt quite confident in being able to successfully sneak out of the castle.

But fate seemed to have other plans. Even though Aemon had managed to leave the castle without alerting anybody.

He came face to face with Laena, on the rocky path leading to the Dragonmont.

At thirteen she was strikingly beautiful. Even dressed in her riding leathers, she had the bearing of a princess.

Her silver-gold hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and she was wearing breeches underneath her dress.

It seemed that she had been returning, from a ride on Vhagar.

"Aemon? What are you doing here so early in the morning." She asked.

Aemon hadn't expect to meet her here, so he froze up for a second.

"Umm....actually....I was out for a stroll. In this fine morning air, it's very refreshing." He answered.

Laena was no fool, she looked at him suspiciously.

"A stroll? So near to the Dragonmont. That's highly unusual." She said.

And before he could come up with a suitable answer, realization dawned on her face.

"You were trying to claim a dragon. Weren't you?"

"Of course not. I'm only a bastard, Dragons are only meant for trueborns." He said, trying to refute her.

"Is this about that woman....Father was saying Prince Daemon recently sent away a woman on the King's orders.....That she was carrying the Prince's child." She continued.

Knowing trying to deny it would prove fruitless. Aemon decided to come clean to Laena.

"Laena, you and your brother fight often. But I know that you love him dearly. The woman that the Prince sent away, is the mother to my sibling. My family. I need to save them. So please, don't stand in my way. Let me go." He said.

On hearing his words, Laena turned serious, "Very well then. I'll keep quiet about this. No one will know where you went, from me."

Aemon nodded gratefully, but as he tried to walk past her, she stopped him with a hug.

She was taller than him, so he found himself pressed against her chest.

Her still budding breasts, brushed against him as he inhaled her scent.

She smelled of the sea, of salt and sweat, and of the fresh morning breeze on a rainy day.

But too soon, it was over, as she stepped away.

"Be careful", she whispered, as she walked past him, leaving him dumbfounded.

After staring at her retreating form for sometime, Aemon resumed his walk up the mountain.

But this time, weirdly his steps were surer and his face had a wide grin on it.

As he walked up the rocky path along the mountainside, he could see hot steam rising from the numerous mountain vents.

The Dragonmont was an active volcano after all, with grey smoke continuously rising from its peak.

Aemon had thought long on which Dragon to claim.

He had long known that he didn't want one of the Eggs or a hatchling. Great they maybe, but in front of full grown dragons they would be little more than useless.

That left only grown dragons. Caraxes, Meleys, Silverwing, Dreamfyre, Vermithor and Vhagar, were the Targaryen Dragons. And Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost and Cannibal were the Wild Dragons on Dragonstone.

Of these Caraxes and Meleys already had riders. Dreamfyre was constantly under guard in the Dragonpit in King's Landing. Grey Ghost was elusive and Sheepstealer was eccentric.

That left only four dragons he could choose from - Vermithor, Vhagar, Silverwing and The Cannibal.

Vhagar, Aemon had seriously considered claiming for sometime. It was the largest dragon in the world after all.

But other than the fact that Laena claimed it at seven years of age, when he was only three years old. He realised that Vhagar was old.

Vhagar was massive, but he was also slow. And although that wouldn't be much of a problem in a fight where it could exploit its size or the heat of its flames. It would be problematic against a swifter opponent. Aemon thought that this might be why Vhagar eventually died to Caraxes.

And moreover Vhagar was old, so there was a very good chance that he might outlast his dragon. So regrettably, Aemon rejected Vhagar.

The Cannibal was a powerful beast. Strong enough, to even slay other dragons and devour them. But that dragon had also slain more would be riders than any. It's lair was full of corpses of those fool enough to believe they could tame it.

And although Aemon was confident in his abilities, he wasn't foolish enough to believe he would succeed where so many others had failed. So Cannibal was out as well.

Silverwing, was a graceful dragon, amenable to humans. It was the least bloodthirsty dragon. It was an old dragon also. But even though all of this appealed to Aemon, he found that this was also the Dragon's greatest shortcoming. The Dragon was not fierce enough. It would suffer against other bloodthirsty opponents like Caraxes or Vhagar.

That only left Vermithor.

The Bronze Fury was a majestic beast. It was Jaehaerys' dragon - the greatest Targaryen Monarch since the Conquest.

It was an old dragon, nearly a hundred years old, when the Dance began. It was also the second largest Targaryen Dragon.

And unlike Vhagar it's younger age guaranteed it a faster speed. Making it an extremely formidable dragon.

And on top of that, Vermithor was quite receptive to new riders.

This was Aemon's choice.

A deafening dragon roar suddenly jolted Aemon from his thoughts.

He had reached his destination.

Since, the death of the Old King, his dragon had made himself a lair in one of the numerous caves on the Dragonmont.

Aemon had Rowan gather information from the fisherfolk of Vermithor's sightings and had used it to roughly deduce his location.

The Dragon roasted on the eastern slope of the Dragonmont, in a deep underground cavern.

Thankfully, Vermithor wasn't currently in there, Aemon didn't want to descend into a dark tunnel with a dragon lurking in it.

Instead, Vermithor was basking on the open ground.

Aemon could see its gigantic form, laid out in front of him.

It's bronze scales gleamed in the early morning sunshine. It's immense tan wings spread out on either side, larger than the largest tent Aemon had ever seen.

The Dragon hadn't noticed Aemon till then.

But as he approached closer slowly, Vermithor turned to regard him, with eyes like pools of molten gold.

Vermithor truly was a majestic dragon. A dragon fit for a King.

It would be his Dragon.

As he approached the Dragon, Aemon sang a Valyrian hymn that all Targaryens were taught as children. They called it the Dragon Charmer.

It supposedly strengthened the bond between man and beast. Thus allowing a Valyrian to bind a dragon to his will.

He maintained eye contact with the Dragon while singing the hymn.

Slowly, the Dragon started to advance towards him.

It was when only a few feet separated them, that Vermithor stopped suddenly.

Aemon felt something was wrong, and trusting his instincts Aemon dashed behind an outcropping of rocks.

He was right to do so. Vermithor had sent out a gout of flame, charming the ground he'd been standing upon.

If he hadn't ran when he did, all that would remain of him would be ash and molten bones.

Aemon was panicking. He had long known that the endeavor he was embarking on could claim his life. But never before had he felt the reality of it so clearly, as in that moment.

He felt adrenaline rushing through his veins, his hear was beating so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest, his breath was coming in shorts gasps. He was truly afraid.

Now, Aemon had two choices. He could either run away, if he did so he might never get a dragon. Would that be so bad he thought, there were other ways to influence events in his favour. He didn't need a dragon.

But doing so would mean condemning his unborn sibling to death.

That was unacceptable. He had to do this.

He would rather face annihilation, than run away like a coward.

Vermithor was agitated, sending stray plumes of fire at the surroundings.

His flames had made the ground a seared wasteland of molten rocks.

Aemon had just emerged from his hiding place, when the Dragon spotted him.

Their eyes met and Aemon was sure he was a dead man, but the sensation of scorching flames never came.

Instead, he felt a tugging sensation at the back of his mind, and suddenly his view changed. Instead of staring up at a massive dragon that was about to kill him. He saw a burnt wasteland of smoking craters and molten rocks coated with ash. An acrid scent wafted upto his nose and a loud roaring drowned all other sounds, nearby.

Immediately he felt a terrible headache assault him, as his vision seemed to split. It seemed as if two scenes were being superimposed on each other. His senses started to fade in a riot of colour and sound, as he lost consciousness.

When he came to, he found himself lying in a pool of his own vomit. His clothes were completely drenched in his sweat, and a terrible headache constantly assaulted his mind.

Aemon slowly rose to his feet.

Vermithor lay a few feet away, seemingly unconscious. But as he slowly hobbled forward the Dragon stirred slowly waking up.

Aemon was brushing its jaws carefully, when Vermithor woke up fully.

His golden eyes stared straight at him, but unlike earlier it lacked any overt hostility.

So he sang the hymn again slowly soothing the Dragon.

After a while, once he was sure that the Dragon wouldn't immediately try to kill him that, he tried to get on its back. He lacked a proper saddle for the but the dragon's spines would do well enough for now. Aemon decided. As he mounted Vermithor.

"Sovēgon" He commanded Vermithor.

And although the dragon was slow to execute his command, it took to the air after he had repeated the command a few more times.

Aemon led his dragon in a wide circuit around the island.

He revelled in his joy, letting out whoops as they flew over the castle. He had a dragon now. And it was none other than Vermithor.

"Dracaŕys" He screamed, as Vermithor dropped into a graceful dive.

And although Aemon had to hold onto the dragon's spines for dear life, it was worth it. For he saw Vermithor's beautiful burnished bronze flame streaked with gold, streaming before them evaporating the seawater.

After some celebration, Aemon reminded himself of the mission at hand. He had to find Mysaria's ship.

He had Rowan acquire a naval map for him, on it was marked the usual path that ships going to Lys followed.

Although not accurate, it would be enough to give him her whereabouts.

Travelling from Dragonstone to Lys by sea took two weeks, a week had passed since her journey began so she should be about halfway there.

Aemon could deduce her location roughly, and then comb the surrounding sea for her ship.

So he flew. By dragon instead of days, the distance was covered in hours.

But even after reaching Mysaria's rough location, he had to spend a few more hours trying to find her.

The sun had set when he came upon her ship. He recognized it by the three headed dragon that it flew.

Aemon brought down Vermithor in a low glide beside the ship. The dragon's roar bringing the ships crew running to its deck.

He spotted Mysaria on the deck of the ship. She was dressed in a plain woolen robe, instead of her luxuriant silks. Her belly was bulging, it seemed she was very close to her due date.

"Aemon?" She exclaimed.

"Mysaria!" He shouted, "Meet my dragon. They call him Vermithor." He laughed.

But Mysaria's answering cry was lost in the wind, as Vermithor soared up. Aemon then brought the Dragon down in another glide beside the ship.

"Mysaria." He said, "I have come to take you back. Come with me."

"Has Daemon sent you?" She asked.

"No, he doesn't know I'm here." He said. "And before you say, that you won't go. Let me tell you, your child is in danger of dying if you stay here. You might not believe me, but I speak the truth. You need to return with me. Please. If not for you, then for my unborn sibling."

Aemon said, as Vermithor once again rose in the sky.

It took him three more tries to finally convince Mysaria.

And once she agreed, he spent an hour flying over the ship in circles, before the ship dropped her off at a nearby shallow beach on a deserted island, from where he could pick her up.

He strapped her to himself and the Dragon with leather belts, gently. And telling her to hold on tightly, they took to the sky.

On the return journey he flew Vermithor slowly, careful of Mysaria's delicate state.

And so, it took them longer to return to Dragonstone.

It was the hour of the Wolf when they finally caught sight if the island, and even Aemon was fighting sleep from his tired eyes.

As they landed on the Dragonmont, he saw that Daemon had been waiting for them.

On their approach, he walked upto them holding a torch, as they dismounted from Vermithor's back.

"So you defied me." Daemon said, "And, you also claimed Vermithor." He said.

It seemed as if pride and fury warred in his voice.

"So what will you do father?" Aemon asked, "Will you send our heads to the King?"

Daemon looked at him blankly for sometime, before saying,

"You really do think the worst of me." He said. "Can't blame you I guess, I have been kind of an arse recently." He sighed.

"No son, you've nothing to fear from me. The only thing I'll send Viserys is a letter, explaining things."

"And, what will you do if he asks for our heads?" Aemon asked.

"He won't. My brother isn't like that. He is a good man." He replied.

"But what if he does. Both Mysaria and I are traitors after all."

Daemon gritted his teeth, "Very well, if my brother makes such an unreasonable request. Then you have my word, I'll stand with you. If he wants your head he'll have to take it from you in battle." He growled.

"That is all I wanted to hear, father." Aemon smiled.

Now, it was all in the hands of fate.

And no matter the consequences, they would face them together.

--------------------

Alyssa Waters was born a few days later on Dragonstone.

She was chubby and cute in a way, that only newborn babies could be.

But her most striking features were her eyes. Two eyes, each a different color. One blue and one green.

Aemon was his visiting his little sister, when Daemon entered the room with a missive from the Capital.

Mysaria had been talking with him freely till then, but on his father's entrance she immediately quited down.

All things weren't well, it seemed. From what Rowan told him, Mysaria and Daemon had decided to end their romantic relations.

He would continue to care and provide for his daughter, but they themselves would no longer be in a relationship.

"The Maester received a letter from the King." Daemon said.

"What does it say?" Aemon asked anxiously.

The very fate of Westeros probably hung in balance, on the contents of that letter.

"The King has decreed" Daemon read, "That Prince Daemon, be sentenced to five years of exile, from Westeros for his transgressions."

"That isn't so bad", Aemon said, "You were anyways, discussing with Lord Corlys about leaving for the Stepstones."

Daemon nodded in answer, as he continued reading.

"As for Aemon Snow, his natural son. Although he has overstepped beyond his station, by claiming the Conciliator's dragon, the King in his magnanimity excuses his actions considering it the recklessness of his youth. However, in keeping with the Pact of Ice and Fire the King has decided to send his nephew to the North to foster at Winterfell. So that he may learn to temper his youthful rashness, under the guidance of his kin." Daemon finished.

"Hmph. That's nothing but an unofficial exile." Mysaria spoke up.

And although she was correct, Aemon's mind was elsewhere.

"What is this 'Pact of Ice and Fire', father?" He asked.

Daemon looked at him carefully, "I wanted to save this for when you were older, but when your mother died and you were born. House Stark and House Targaryen entered into a Pact. It was signed between Lord Ellard Stark, the then Lord of Winterfell and King Jaehaerys Targaryen."

"It was a secret Pact known only by a few. Other than the Queen and the Small Council, only I and the Stark Heir knew of it. Viserys learned of it when he became King. And as for the exact details, they are quite extensive. I'll let you know before you leave." Daemon said.

This was something unexpected. No such Pact had been made according to his 'Book'.

It was probably another thing that his presence had changed, Aemon sighed.

It seemed that Aemon would be going to the North.

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