111 AC
King's Landing
He woke up with the feeling of soft, warm flesh, plush against his skin. He'd had a restful night's sleep, ensconced in the arms of two beautiful women.
A fortnight had passed, since Aemon had returned to King's Landing. And from what he'd seen, the City had been in a state of frenzied excitement, over the great Tourney that was to be held soon.
So Aemon had decided to look in on his businesses. Starting with the establishments he owned, on the Street of Silk.
One thing had led to another, and he'd ended up in bed with two beautiful girls.
The young and beautiful Lysene girl Mariah, with her pale alabaster skin, blonde ringlets like spun gold, and bright emerald eyes.
And the Summer Islander Chatana, sixteen summers old, with smooth black skin like polished jet, and innocent, wide dark eyes.
Laying enveloped in their warmth, while the scent of their lovemaking mixed with the alluring scent of their lavender scented oils, wafting through the chamber. Aemon let out a sigh, in contentment.
He wished he could stay here forever, where primal urges and base desires held sway, and not politics and plots. But he knew that was just, the naive boy in him, talking. The man in him knew, to win he must face the hurdles head on.
A slice of morning sunlight leaking through the drapes, fell on the bedsheets, painting both Mariah and Chatana in its radiant glow. It was time for him to leave.
But seeing the peaceful look on the girls faces, he didn't wish to rouse them from their slumber.
He had bought their company with gold dragons, but that didn't make them any less, to him.
These girls had been dealt a cruel hand by fate, yet they'd fought tooth and nail, for a better life. Aemon respected that.
But sneaking out was easier said, than done. And as Aemon tried to gingerly pull his arm free from in between Mariah's plump breasts, he felt a hand gently slide down his pelvis and into his breeches.
And as he looked down, he felt Mariah's sultry gaze, stare up at him.
"Were you going somewhere, My Lord?" She asked.
"Um...I didn't wish to wake you." He said.
"Well you failed in that spectacularly, didn't you." Chatana whispered, nibbling on his earlobe.
"We're light sleepers. Hazard of the profession, I'm afraid." Mariah said, stroking his shaft, lazily.
"Did you enjoy yourself, last night my lord ?" Chatana asked, snuggling up to him.
Aemon kneaded her full, dark breasts, as he answered her.
"It truly was quite the memorable experience.
What about you?" He asked.
"It was lovely, my lord." She said.
But Aemon hadn't missed the slight glance, that had passed between her and Mariah.
"Ladies, you've nothing to fear. Please tell me your thoughts, honestly " He said.
"Are you sure about that?" Mariah whispered, her lips finding his, "You might not like the answer."
"I would still, like to know", Aemon replied, panting heavily.
He was aroused, his manhood rock hard, as Mariah continued stroking it, gently.
"It was good enough, for your first time." Chatana answered.
"How did you know, it was my first time?" Aemon asked, perplexed.
"Trust me, we know." Chatana said, winking at him, as both girls giggled.
"Now, don't get sulky my dragon." Mariah said, "No one is perfect, their first time."
"In fact how about we go for another round, right now." Chatana smirked, "Who knows, maybe the lord will surprise us this time."
Before he could answer, he felt Mariah's warm, wet mouth, on his cock. The sensation sending a pleasurable tingle, up his spine.
And as her tongue worked wonders on him, Aemon took one of Chatana's plump dark, breasts into his mouth.
The floodgates had been opened, and his desires unleashed.
He lusted for these women, and they lusted for him.
In the heat of their passionate lovemaking Aemon lost himself, spending the rest of the morning enjoying their young, nubile bodies.
--------------------
As Aemon stepped out of the chambers, leaving Mariah and Chatana to freshen up. He found a handsome, dark-skinned woman, waiting for him in the brothel's common room.
"I hadn't expected to see you here, Jahanara." Aemon said.
"One of my girls told me, that you were visiting. So I thought I'd pop in for a little chat." Jahanara said.
As Aemon sat down across from her, "Wine or tea?" She asked.
"It's too early for wine. Tea will have to do." He said.
The servants retreated, after laying out a tray of pastries and biscuits, to go with the tea.
"So what did you want to talk me about?" Aemon asked, taking a sip of his hot tea.
"I'll get to that. But first, it seems like you were having some fun?" She asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Aemon blushed, "Yes, I was." He said, "But in my defence, I was a little bit drunk."
Jahanara let out a snort of laughter, "And here I was under the impression, that you were all iron and stone. But it seems that there might actually be a flesh and blood man, under there somewhere, after all."
As a flustered Aemon tried to change the subject, Jahanara sighed, "This place has changed a lot, since we first set up shop here, hasn't it?"
"Yes, 'The Velvet Pearl' we chose to name it." Aemon laughed. "Those were simpler times."
"And now, we own so many business establishments that even keeping track of their names is an ordeal." Jahanara lamented.
Jahanara pushed him out of his reminiscing, as she brought up the real reason for her sudden visit.
"You wanted a full accounting of our coffers. Here it is." She said, passing over a sheaf of leather-bound documents to him.
After leafing through them, Aemon said, "Other than a few inconsistencies, it matches up more or less. And as for the few inconsistencies I spotted, I guess, I can't fault you for them."
"The local proprietors will always skim some coin off the top, no matter who you put in charge, my lord." Jahanara said, "The best we can hope for, is that the amounts they steal, remains within reason."
Aemon nodded in agreement. He knew that he couldn't replace his staff, everytime they pocketed some gold. His operation was not just a business. It was also an intelligence network. He couldn't compromise its integrity, by frequently replacing the staff.
Instead he asked, "How much liquid funds do we have, in our coffers right now?"
"Last I checked, around one hundred and eight thousand gold dragons, my lord." Jahanara answered.
"That's a decent figure. But it won't be enough, for what I have in mind." Aemon said, thoughtfully.
"Jahanara, I have a big plan in mind. Stop all current expansion plans, and instead stockpile all our incoming gold." He said.
"How much gold can we save up in the next two years, or so?" Aemon inquired.
"At our current pace, we'll have around a quarter million gold dragons, by then." She answered.
"That will have to do, then." Aemon muttered.
"If I'm overstepping please tell me, and I'll stop. But could you tell me, for what such a huge amount of gold will be needed?" Jahanara asked, hesitantly.
"You must know of the Iron Bank of Braavos and the Rogare Bank of Lys, yes." He said.
"Of course, I do my lord." She replied.
"Then you must also know, of the immense amount of wealth and influence they control. I wish to establish a similar institution in Westeros." Aemon said, "An institution completely under our control."
"How does, the 'Royal Valyrian Bank' sound?" He asked.
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A silver haired ball of energy slammed into Aemon, driving the air from him.
'Papa!' the little girl giggled.
"No sweetling, this isn't your father. It's your older brother Aemon." Mysaria said, pulling little Alyssa into her arms.
Aemon leaned forward and said, "Well met, little sister."
The vivacious girl with mismatched eyes flashed him a wide grin.
"Come with me." She said, tugging at his arm.
Aemon let himself be led by her, as she pulled him into the gardens behind the manse.
"Where are we going, sister?" He asked.
"You have to meet 'Tess'." She said, pulling him along.
There before the marble pool, basking in the Sun was a magnificent creature.
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A purple and gold dragon.
As they approached, the dragon lazily opened one of its eyes, to regard them.
And although she was only as big as a large warhorse, she was truly magnificent.
Her purple and gold scales shimmered brightly in the noonday Sun. Her eyes looked like reflective pools of molten gold. And even her demeanor, was truly beffiting of royalty.
This was his sister, Alyssa's dragon 'Tessarion'.
"Tess, meet my brother, Aemon." Alyssa said, gently rubbing the dragon's head.
After staring at him suspiciously for a few more moments, the drragon started nuzzling Alyssa's shoulder, while letting out cute warbling sounds.
Aemon spent sometime getting to know his sister, and her dragon. But soon she was feeling sleepy, so one of the servants took her to bed.
Left alone, Aemon decided to go and join Mysaria.
Working with him over the years, Mysaria had made a sizeable fortune.
And while she wasn't as wealthy as Aemon himself, her wealth still dwarfed that of many powerful old, noble Houses.
Once she'd been one of countless prostitutes in King's Landing, but now she was one of the wealthiest women in Westeros.
And as such a wealthy woman, she needed her own home.
So years past, she'd left Daemon's manse and moved in with Alyssa into this new one.
And unlike Daemon's manse, which Aemon had often found to be too garishly decorated. This manse, had been much more subtly and tastefully furnished.
Aemon found Mysaria busy, in her workshop.
The workshop connected to her personal chambers, was a small circular room.
Here, Mysaria worked with her potions and poisons.
The entire room from wall to wall, was filled with expensive glass apparatuses. From tiny vials to large flasks, all made of the finest glass.
He even espied a finely wrought, bronze Myrish eye, placed near the shuttered windows.
Aemon spotted Mysaria in the midst of this all, busy at work, bent over her workstation.
"What do you have there?" Aemon asked, drawing up a chair across from her.
"It must be a poison of some sort." Aemon guessed, "Maybe Nightshade, due to its dark coloring."
Mysaria smacked him lightly on the shoulder.
"No you dolt!" She said, "This is Sweetsleep. I have been having some trouble sleeping, lately. So I was brewing some of it."
"You really seem to have forgotten all that I taught you", She sighed.
"But I refuse to fail, as your teacher. Once a week you'll come here, so that I can make you remember all you've forgotten." Mysaria declared.
"Very well then, teacher. It seems I've forgotten a lot, so I'll have to visit you often, then." Aemon said, laughing.
As Mysaria returned to her careful work, Aemon asked, "How did you get all these fancy glassware anyways? As far as I know, the Citadel has apparatuses like these, commissioned specially."
"I didn't buy them, of course. The supply is too restricted, monopolized as it is, by the Citadel.
So instead, I bribed one of the acolytes to smuggle out, some of them. Even all these ingredients, you see lining the shelves, were procured in a similar fashion." Mysaria said, without looking up from her work.
"You have spies in the Citadel?" Aemon said, astonished.
"Of course not. The Hightowers are too watchful for that." She said, "But there are always greedy acolytes, who wouldn't mind making some coin of one or two odd jobs, here and there."
As Aemon nodded in understanding, Mysaria said, "Enough of all that. You'll be staying for dinner, right?"
"Yes of course. I don't have any other pressing tasks, today." He said.
"Good. Alyssa will like that. She's been too lonely these last few years, since we moved here." She said.
"It is difficult for her to make friends here. This being a posh neighbourhood, is full of entitled, noble brats, who look down on her. And with the enemies I have, I don't even dare to let her out in the City without an escort." She lamented.
"Don't worry, now that I am here, I'll make sure to spend some time with her, regularly." Aemon assured her.
"You could move in with us here, you know." Mysaria suggested.
"I would love to, but right now, I need to be in the Red Keep." He said.
"Are you worried about the developing tensions, between the Queen and the Princess?" She asked.
"I am always worried." Aemon said.
"But this is more than that. With all these tensions boiling under the surface, I need to be there to stop it all from spilling over."
----------------------
Aemon took great care in dressing himself, that morning.
He'd had a new doublet specially made, for today's occasion.
Done in grey and silver, with puffed sleeves and padded shoulders, and an elegant black satin underlining. The slashed velvet doublet, looked magnificent. Even more so, with the regal black dragon, embroidered on its breast.
The doublet had been designed to resemble Aemon's new sigil.
A single black dragon on a grey field. The black dragon representing his Targaryen heritage, and the grey field, representing his Stark blood.
With it he wore, boots of supple black leather, soft lambswool breeches of a matching silvery-grey, and a black silk cloak trimmed with white fur.
Around his throat he fastened, the amethyst studded Valyrian Steel necklace, that had once belonged to his mother.
And around his waist, he wore a belt of bleached white leather. From it, he hung a dagger at one hip, and his Valyrian Steel sword 'Nightfall', on the other.
Aemon had to dress his best. For today, was the opening feast of the Tourney celebrating the fifth year anniversary of King Viserys and Queen Alicent's marriage.
And if his 'Book' was to be trusted. Today was the day, when the seeds of the Dance, were first sown.
Today, the 'Blacks' and the 'Greens' would be born.
And as for Aemon, he knew in his heart of hearts, that he was one of the 'Blacks'.
The Queen looked both lovely and regal, dressed in a low-cut gown of deep green velvet that brought out the colour of her eyes. Her chestnut hair tumbled across her bare shoulders, and around her waist she wore a woven belt studded with emeralds.
The slender circlet around her brows seemed to suit her well. It was soft gold, a ring of roses exquisitely wrought; and at the front, was a dragon's head in dark green jade, adorned with eyes of solid gold.
Around her congregated numerous nobles and high Lords, especially the lords from the Reach and the Westerlands.
Among them, foremost were the Hightowers and their allies, the Redwynes, Fossoways and the Peakes.
It seemed that even though Otto had been dismissed as Hand, it hadn't significantly weakened the Hightower faction at court.
And as for Rhaenyra, even though she was only a young girl of fourteen, she looked every bit the future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.
The years had favored her well. As she'd lost the slight chubbiness of her childhood years and had instead gained, high cheekbones and a beautiful heart shaped face.
The Princess had worn a high-collared black silk gown. A hundred dark red rubies sewn into the bodice, covering her from neck to bosom.
Her long silver-gold hair she wore in a braid, down her back. And sitting atop her brows was a circlet of red gold, studded with seven large red rubies.
On her finger she also wore a matching golden ring, with a ruby the size of a pigeons egg. And around her throat, a silver necklace with seven different colored gemstones, set on it.
It seemed as if the Great Hall had been divided in two, on one side lingered the Queen's supporters and on the other were the Princess' loyalists.
With King Viserys sitting on the raised seat in the middle, ignorant of it all.
Aemon went and sat down on the Princess' side of the high table, which to be honest, was much less crowded than the Queen's side.
After being scorned for a second time, when Viserys had denied Laena's hand for Alicent's. A fuming Lord Corlys had resigned his seat on the Small Council, and left for Driftmark.
And even if he were here, there was no guarantee that he'd side with Rhaenyra. They held no loyalty to her, as of yet.
The Black's side consisted mainly of the Riverlords and the Lords of the Crownlands.
The Masseys, Bar Emmons, and the Darklyns of Duskendale from the Crownlands.
And the Mootons, Mallisters and Darrys from the Riverlands. With them there was also, Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Forrest Frey.
As Lady Jeyne had chose not to attend, few of the Vale Lords were present, with the exception of the Corbrays and the Redforts.
And although the Baratheons had chosen not to attend, their vassal Stormlords were pretty much evenly distributed among both sides.
But even though the Hall was filled with two opposing factions, simmering with discontent towards one another. There were no brawls, or challenges issued.
And the Feast progressed along smoothly, bar a few choice insults being leveled.
The courses came and went, one after another.
The Feast began with a creamy chestnut soup and crusty hot bread, accompanied by a salad of green beans, onions and beets.
For the next course, there was fresh river trout wrapped in bacon, snails cooked in honey and garlic, and haunches of venison, and roast boar.
Accompanying it there were, lamprey pies, and racks of lamb, crusted with garlic and herbs with mashed turnips.
Later came the desserts. Sweetbreads and lemon cakes frosted with sugar, baked apples fragrant with cinnamon, and iced blueberries dipped in sweet cream.
All along the wine flowed freely. There were countless vintages, Dornish Reds and Arbor Gold, Tyroshi pear brandy and spiced rum.
Aemon drank sparingly, mostly sticking to the Westerosi vintages.
After the guests had eaten their fill, the tables were cleared away, opening up the floor for song and dance.
A hundred bards had come from the far corners of the Realm, as had mummers and jugglers.
They all put on an elaborate show to entertain their noble guests.
Many of the young lords and ladies paired up, and took to the dance floor.
Rhaenyra was gracious, dancing with the many young lords, who'd asked her for a dance. Jason Lannister and his brother Tyland, Ser Forrest Frey and Ser Harwin Strong. Even Aemon had danced with her, for a song.
The Princess had been charming, her dancing form fluid and immaculate. But Aemon had noticed the longing look in her eyes, and the frequent looks she threw over her shoulder at her white knight. Rhaenyra was in love.
That hadn't bothered Aemon much, he had long known that Rhaenyra would fall for Ser Criston one day. He'd made his peace with it.
Instead what troubled him was, the distance that had seemingly grown between the two of them.
Ever since he'd returned, the Princess was polite to him, even warm and welcoming. But their interactions lacked the closeness of their youth. The years apart, seemed to have weakened their bond.
And that just wouldn't do. Rhaenyra was dear to him, she was the Queen he'd chosen.
Aemon needed to rekindle their friendship. Their bond had to be strong, if they were to face the coming storms together.
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Next morning, the Tourney commenced on the grounds outside the Capital.
Great pavillions had been erected for the occasion. And with it came thousands streaming in, to enjoy the Tourney. Both smallfolk and nobleborn alike.
Aemon did not pay attention to all this needless pageantry.
He was nervous, for he was participating in the upcoming melee.
Aemon had long known, that for him to be legitimized and inherit his lands and titles. He needed to either wait till he came of age, or do something remarkable enough to be knighted by the King.
Aemon didn't want to wait for two whole years, so he'd decided to participate in the Tourney.
If he was able to distinguish himself well enough in the melee or the joust, Viserys would surely knight him.
Still that did nothing, to calm his nerves. In the last couple of years, Aemon had fought quite a few battles.
He'd stared death right in the face and lived to tell the tale of it. That was more than what most of these other greenboys could boast of.
But greenboys weren't Aemon's only competition. Many renowned knights and seasoned veterans, would be participating in the melee. Aemon needed to be careful, this was no game. It was truly serious business.
In times like these Aemon missed 'Shadow'. With his direwolf by his side, Aemon felt truly fearless, and capable of facing anything.
But although 'Shadow' was in the City, she wasn't here with him right now.
Over the last year she'd had a growth spurt, growing larger than even a pony.
And since Aemon had returned to King's Landing on dragonback, it had been a chore to bring her with him. Ultimately, he'd had Rowan travel with her aboard a ship from White Harbour. She'd been cranky and ill-mannered throughout the voyage. And even Rowan who she was well acquainted with had a hard time controlling her.
The sea doesn't suit her, it seems.
As a result Aemon had urgently commissioned Master Lysandro to modify his dragon-saddle so that he could safely strap 'Shadow' to it, letting them fly together.
It was a complex endeavor but if anyone could do it, Aemon believed it would be the reputed Master Armorer.
The call to line up sounded through the grounds, pushing Aemon out of his thoughts.
The Archery Competition had already concluded, in the morning. It had been a great exhibition of skill, as the finest archers across the Realm gathered on the Tourney grounds.
The winner turned out to be the infamous 'Red' Robb Rivers from the Riverlands. He'd outshot both Rowan and Sylas at a hundred paces, after the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances. Rowan took the second place, and Sylas the third. Good old Bill had to settle for the fourth position, which truthfully wasn't that fair. Sylas certainly lacked Bill's extraordinary skill and finesse. He'd practically won by cheating.
The bond with his hawk, made his eyesight much keener than that of other men.
Then they'd broken for lunch, with the melee to continue in the afternoon.
Aemon nervous that he was, barely ate anything for lunch, before leaving to armor himself.
His armor wrought of black iron was darker than the blackest night. And engraved on its breastplate were a hundred silver dragons, with sparkling rubies for the eyes.
His helm was fashioned in the shape of a dragon's head, with long twisting horns of beaten silver. And with it, he wore a black silk cloak, embroidered with pearls.
Armored in steel, atop his night black destrier, with 'Nighfall's' rippling blade in his hands. Aemon looked every bit the fearsome knight, he'd once wished to be.
This melee had three hundred participants, a hundred fifty arrayed on each side. And as the horns blew, the two sides charged at each other.
As they closed the distance, for a glorious moment there was silence, as if the world was holding its breath. But soon that illusion was shattered, as the two sides crashed into each other, in a cacophony of ringing steel, and screaming men and horses.
Violence erupted, as the men fought with their swords, spears, morningstars and great greataxes.
Aemon's sword sang, as the sharp steel carved through his opponents, like a hot knife through butter. Hedge knights and free riders either avoided him, or banded together in small groups to attack him.
But Aemon fought like a madman, shattering both blades and bones in equal measure. By the second hour, he'd downed half a dozen men.
He'd been unhorsed in the midst of the fight, but he'd continued the fight afoot.
The melee had been going on for three full hours and in that time, most of the weak fighters had been weeded out. Now there remained, only twelve of the very best.
Aemon recognized the white shine of Ser Criston's Kingsguard armor, among them. As he did the golden armor of the captain of the City Guard, Ser Harwin Strong.
Both had fought like demons, Ser Criston felling the Queen's brother Gwayne, with a savage swing of his morningstar.
As for Ser Harwin, he was no less fearsome. No wonder many called him the strongest knight in the Realm. What he lacked in technique and finesse, he made up for in pure brute strength.
Among the other notables, Aemon saw the pale blue armour of Ser Forrest Frey and the blood red one of Ser Robert Reyne.
There were also Ser Adrian Redfort in his silver plate, and Lord Alan Tarly in his forest green armour.
As they sized up their competition, Aemon teamed up with Adrian, Ser Harwin and Ser Forrest.
While they'd been teaming up their opponents hadn't been idle. Ser Criston had been joined by Ser Robert and Lord Alan.
It seemed as if an unspoken agreement passed between them. As the seven of them together attacked, the unfortunate six, who hadn't banded together.
Alone and helpless, they were soon defeated by their combined might.
Now there were only seven men standing - Aemon, Ser Criston, Ser Harwin, Ser Forrest, Lord Alan, Ser Robert and Adrian.
This was when all hell broke lose, as they went at each other with renewed fervor. As Harwin took Ser Robert, and Adrian and Forrest banded together to fight Ser Criston, Aemon found Lord Alan, his opponent.
Lord Alan was a seasoned veteran of many battles, and his style reflected that. His sword style was clean and methodical, lacking the flair and flashiness of the younger knights. This was a style honed for war. Built to kill men, and not to charm the hearts of pretty women at Tourneys like this.
But even though Lord Alan was undoubtedly a great fighter, Aemon had faced better. He'd faced Kingsguards in the yard, from when he was a little boy of five.
He'd been trained by the likes of Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Daemon Targaryen. There was no way he would lose.
'Nightfall' shone in the light of the setting Sun as they dueled. It's glistening blade meeting each of Lord Alan's strikes perfectly. It ended up being a battle of endurance. Aemon was a young man while Lord Alan was a man in his forties. They'd been fighting under the hot afternoon sun for hours. The tired Lord Alan couldn't keep up, and for every blunder he made Aemon punished him dearly. Scoring gashes and inflicting bruises, till the fatigued Lord finally chose to yield.
Now there were only three. Ser Harwin had long beaten his opponent, as had Ser Criston. The white knight had somehow miraculously defeated, two men at the same time.
Aemon was tired himself, but he knew Ser Criston would be the same having fought two men.
Ser Harwin he couldn't take a risk against. He'd finished his fight first, and so was well rested.
So he charged at Ser Criston, who also rushed to meet him.
The fight wasn't even close. The white knight was both faster and stronger. And even though Aemon did his best, he lost to Ser Criston handsomely.
The torches were lit for the final fight, as the sun had set by then.
Both Ser Criston and Ser Harwin were great warriors. But while Ser Harwin was well rested, Ser Criston was tired from the many battles he'd fought.
And that proved to be the deciding factor.
As Ser Harwin the so called strongest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, ended up winning the melee.
--------------------
The jousts were held the next day.
And even though, Aemon didn't place in the top three. He distinguished himself in the lists, finishing eighth overall.
With Ser Criston finishing first, Ser Erryk finishing second, and Ser Steffon finishing third.
Once the jousts were over, the King started handing out the prizes, to the winners of the Tourney.
Aemon saw Rowan and Sylas go up and recieve purses of gold, as the winners of the Archery Contest were called out.
Once they were done, it was the turn of the winners of the melee.
Aemon who'd finished third, joined Ser Criston who'd finished second, and Ser Harwin who'd won.
When it was his turn to be rewarded, King Viserys pulled him into a fatherly hug, as he said.
"Nephew you've done us proud. Finishing third in the melee at only fourteen, is truly remarkable. You even distinguished yourself in the lists. And all while facing the bravest men, and the greatest knights of the Realm. You truly are your father's son. Daemon would be proud."
"Thank you. Your Grace." Aemon said, bowing.
As Viserys pulled him to his feet, he said, "You deserve a greater reward than mere gold."
"I've decided, for your bravery you will be knighted. Lord Lyonel could you please send for the Royal septon." He said.
"He's already here, Your Grace." Lord Lyonel said, bringing forward the old Septon Luceon. A balding, old man nearing his sixtieth nameday.
"Kneel" the King said, as the Septon annointed him in the Seven holy oils.
The members of the Royal Box all watched him as he was dubbed a knight. The Queen Alicent with watched him mild disinterest. While the Princess Rhaenyra flashed him a lovely smile, congratulating him.
"What name have you chosen for your new House?" The King asked him, in a low voice.
"House Blackfyre, after House Targaryen's ancestral sword, 'Blackfyre'." He replied.
"That's a good name." Viserys said, smiling at him.
Once the Septon had finished saying the prayers to the Seven, the King unsheathed the legendary sword of House Targaryen, 'Blackfyre'.
The massive ruby on the sword's pommel shone brilliantly, as the King dubbed him with it.
"No longer are you a Snow, nephew. From this day till the end of your days you will be known as Aemon Blackfyre. Head of your own House Blackfyre, and the Lord of the Neck." Viserys said.
"Rise, as knight and Lord." He said, pulling Aemon to his feet.
"Thank you, uncle." Aemon said. "And as your loyal vassal, I swear my sword to you, from this day, till the end of my days."
Once he'd been knighted, the award ceremony continued. With the winners of the joust going up, to recieve their rewards.
After Ser Criston had recieved the winner's purse of ten thousand gold, Ser Erryk was presented his prize for finishing second in the lists.
It was then, that the Tourney grounds were blanketed by an immense shadow, as a loud rear rang out.
Like clockwork, Daemon was here.
And inspite of his many faults, Aemon had to admit that his father knew how to make an impressive entrance.
Daemon landed Caraxes on the Tourney grounds, slowly sliding down the dragon's back.
The arrival of the dragon had alerted the Kingsguard, who'd immediately surrounded the King in a protective formation.
As Daemon approached the King, it was these knights that stopped him from coming any closer.
But as the nervous nobles whispered under their breath, Daemon knelt before the King.
"I was crowned the 'King of the Stepstones' by the men who'd followed me in war." The Prince declared.
"But I, Daemon, know only one true King. You, brother, King Viserys of House Targaryen. And so I've come." He said. "Take this crown that I've won as a token of my apology, and welcome me back, dear brother. I belong by your side."
A joyful Viserys, pulled Daemon into a tight embrace.
And as the two brothers reunited, a new chapter began for the House of the Dragon.
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