Chapter Text
Gods, how he wished things turned out differently. That he never chased his nephew into the storm. It turned out to be a grave mistake that will haunt him for the rest of his life. He never intended things to go this way.
All he wanted was just to scare that bastard. To make him piss himself so he’d never try to defy his brother ever again.
He succeeded in the second part of his mission. The boy will never defy his brother again.
As he watched in shock as the pieces of the bastard’s dragon fell down from the sky into the stormclouds, only thing he could think of was that he just caused a war, with no chance of making peace.
„What have I done?“ he thought as the wind above the clouds whipped his face. This was never meant to happen. But when the bastard’s dragon attacked Vhagar, it sealed the fate of both the dragon and his rider.
Aemond heard the bastard screaming in High Valyrian. He lost control of his dragon. He’d laugh at him for being weak and unable to command his own dragon…but then Vhagar gone wild.
She started to chase after them, despite his commands and efforts to calm her. She was an old dragon, easy to anger. His commands fell on deaf ears. And when they emerged from the clouds, it was too late when he realized what happened infront of him.
He never cared for his bastard nephew. Especially because it was him, who took his eye those years ago. Many night he was thinking how he’d take revenge on his nephew. And at Storm’s End, he had a chance. He wanted to make fool out of his nephew infront lord Borros, his daughters and his court.
On top of it all, he really wanted to get his eye as a payment for his, even trying to take it after the bastard refused. He could thank lord Borros for stepping in, damn bastard. But he was not so foolish to kill him.
He knew if he drew first blood, he’ll start the war in which he knew many will die, including his family. But more deeper reason he had.
As the old saying says: „No man is more acursed than a kinslayer.“
And now, he became one. He killed his nephew. Even though he was a bastard, he still was his blood. And now he had his blood on his hands. People will know soon. They will speak of this act. Act of kinslaying. Act of cold-blooded murder. Act of war.
He knew he can’t tell anyone what trully happened. They’d call him weak and it could endanger his family’s reputation as mighty dragonriders.
No… He decided to embrace it.
Embrace the death of his nephew, claiming he wanted to get revenge for the eye he lost those years ago and for a treason against his brother. Blacks are traitors after all. And treason won’t go unpunished.
That was what he was repeating to himself all the way back home. He was trying to convince himself of it. He needed to believe it. He knew they will believe him. After all, his hatred for the bastard was well known and they had no other witnesses than him, if not counting Vhagar. Nobody will know.
When he returned home day later, the news already spreaded across the kingdom. His family already awaited him in the throne room, his brother sitting on the throne, his mother and grandsire standing beneath it, together with two members of the Kingsguard by the side of the staircase.
„Aemond…!“ yelled Dowager Queen at her one-eyed son, dusbelief in her voice.
„Is it truth? Tell us it’s just a rumor! That you didn’t kill-.“
„I did, mother.“ Said Aemond, trying to soubd proud of what he did, though it was hard. But he never had problem with pretending.
„Mother…have mercy on us…“ she exhaled in shock, her face turning pale like a snow. Aemond saw the disappointment in her eyes, as he saw what he brought on them all.
„You only lost one eye, how could you be so blind!?“ shouted Otto Hightower, his grandsire and Hand of the King, angered by the outcome. He was right and Aemond knew it. His blind desire to take revenge on that bastard led to this. And now, blood will be shed.
„Do you realize, what you caused, you fool!? Rhaenyra was off to kill you all even before, but now, she will not stop before anything!“ he continued to shout at Aemond.
Aemond clenched his fists. Grandsire was right. His whore of a sister always hated them and if she was the Queen, they’d die for sure. But now, he gave her much deeper reason to kill them.
„She can come and try, if she dares. Me and Vhagar will tear her apart. But not before I’ll personally burn the rest of her precious bastards to ashes.“ Aemond declared as coldly as he managed to. His hate for his sister was real and his words as well. If she tries to hurt his family, he will personally burn her and her family to death.
„It seems nobody cares what I acomplished. I gained us the support of the Stormlands. Lord Borros joined our cause and will provide us his bannermen and support. And just for my hand in marriage.“ Continued Aemond, trying to change the topic to his main mission successful end.
Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent weren’t about to change the topic though.
„AND THE COST OF IT IS THE WHOLE REALM BURNING! HOW MANY LORDS WILL JOIN THE SIDE WHICH IS PROVEN TO BE KINSLAYING!?“ yelled the Hand at his grandson.
„All those who see what my sister is!“ a voice echoed through the hall.
Everybody looked at the Iron Throne, where Aegon sat, grin on his face, staring at his younger brother with respect.
„I can see the good you did, brother. You not only gained us the Stormlands. You also took down one of our whore of a sister’s dragons and it’s rider. She tasted first-handed what happens to everyone, who‘s defying us.“ He spoke, first time in his life sounding serious and determined.
The Hand and Dowager Queen both looked at Aegon with surprised looks.
„Aegon, do you understand that she will not let this slide? We killed her son!“ shouted Queen Alicent, trying to go to her son. He stopped her by standing up quickly.
„I am the King, mother… And whom my brother killed was just a bastard without worth. You told us that many times, remember? We are the true, undeniable blood of old Valyria, blood of the dragon.“
Alicent looked like she wanted to say something, but the words seemed to get stucked halfway in her throat. The look at her firstborn son, standing proudly at the staircase to the Iron Throne, the seat his father sat upon and which rightfully belonged to him, took all the words from her.
„Your Grace…“ said Otto Hightower, trying to protest again, but was quickly shut down by Aegon.
„I’ve heard enough! No more I want to hear any objections!“ Aegon then looked down at his brother, who was surprised as well by Aegon’s sudden burst of determination and for the once not letting their mother or grandsire shutting him down.
Aegon stepped down from the staircase, walked straight to Aemond and patted him on his shoulder.
„You did a great service to me, our family and the realm, brother. Your actions are a very good start of the new era of our house. You showed the realm those bastards of hers are weak, compared to us. You are the true blood of the dragon.“
Aemond looked at his brother for a moment, trying to see if he’s drunk as always or if he’s sober for once. He never saw his older, eternally drunk and whoring brother speaking like that. But after a while, he chuckled at his older brother.
„Seems like lack of drinking suits you. You can be wise when you’re sober.“ Aegon grinned and punched his brother into his shoulder.
„Carefully, brother. I am still your king and this is an insult. But I will let it slide, for you have brought us our first victory.“
Then Aegon turned to his grandsire, taking Aemond’s hand and rising it into the air.
„Let us celebrate this victory with a feast, held in my brother’s honor! Bring forth the best wine and meals, for my brother deserves the greatest of recognitions! Tonight, we are celebrating the first day the new era in Seven Kingdoms!“ shouted Aegon, smiling widely while still holding his brother’s hand tightly.
Aemond let out a chuckle and smiled, for he felt proud of his brother. First time in his life he looked at Aegon like this. He always saw him as a drunk, womanizer and good for nothing, yet he still was his older brother and deep down loved him.
It wasn’t that long ago when he and Criston Cole looked for him in the brothels at the Street of Silk, trying to convince him he should take the crown.
But deep down, Aemond felt he should be king. He was wiser, stronger, more respected and rode the greatest dragon living.
When they found him, Aegon himself begged to be free, giving Aemond an option. A chance to be king. Aegon wanted to flee, be free of everything, never to be found. He had no taste for duty and wasn’t suited to be king, that both of them knew and agreed on.
And yet, here he stood, looking at his older brother, standing proudly, giving orders, firm and decisive.
Since the crowning ceremony, he has changed.
Not that much though. Ge still was drinking a lot and was still whoring like before, on behalf of his wife and sister in one person, Helaena. But at this very moment, he felt proud of his brother. If only he could be proud of himself…
The feast was boring, at least to Aemond. He was never a man of feasts, hunts and other fun that court gave him. He rather spent his time studying, training and flying. But after all, it was a feast in his name, so it’d be not very royal if he didn’t stay there until the very end.
Aegon insisted that Aemond will sit at the head of the table. He was the first one who toasted him for his bravery, strenght and justful nature.
He did hear many toasts that night. Most of them from Aegon, who as always got drunk like a Myrish sailor and at the end of the feast, he was completely wasted, so two knights of the Kingsguard had to escort him to his chambers.
There were many people present, all paying their respects to Aemond for showing Blacks where they belong. Aegon ordered an exotic dancers from pleasure house at the Street of Silk and some fire eaters from Bravoss, who he knew they were in the King’s Landing.
All of that for Aemond. But he did not care about it, though it honored him that his brother cared so much.
Aemond sat next to Helaena, his beloved sister whom he adored and always protected, mostly from drunken Aegon. She seemingly didn’t mind that Aegon fucked other women behind her back. She was just glad he’s mostly so wasted that he doesn’t have any strenght to hurt her.
Non of them were happy in their marriage. From what he heard, their mother bethroted them only because she didn’t want Rhaenyra’s bastard son, Jace to marry her daughter. They somehow came to an agreement. They will make heirs and then it will be just political marriage.
But if he only hurt her once, if only he broke her nail, Aemond swore to feed him to Vhagar, brother or not.
Somehow, in his mostly drunken state, Aegon managed to make three kids to her. Twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera whovwere six years old and Maelor, two years old boy.
Aemond deeply cared for his nephews and niece and tried to be there for them and their mother when Aegon was rolling on the shit-covered streets of Flea Bottom. That meant, almost all the time.
He always gave them a small gifts and toys he bought in the city. He oftenly came to play with them and enjoyed their company. He knew they need someone, a father figure when their real father was always face down in the dirt. He loved them and would do anything to protect them.
The night was in it’s prime and the feast ended. Aemond didn’t drink much, only two small goblets of wine, as he despised drunks like his brother was.
He said his goodnight to his mother and grandsire, who still were taken aback by Aemond’s deed, then to Helaena and her children and made his way to his chambers.
When he got there, he quickly locked the door, took of his eye patch and looked in the mirror.
The sapphire in his eye was ominously glowing in the light of the moon. Across the eye socket there was a long scar. A reminder of that night when he claimed Vhagar.
And now…the eternal reminder of Lucerys Velaryon, the boy who took his eye and whom he murdered…
„He was a traitor… He took my eye… He tried to usurp the throne from my brother… He had it coming…“ mumbled Aemond as he stroke the scar.
Like if he again felt the pain caused by that damn knife when it slashed his eye. It burned again. Aemond stared at himself in the mirror, each second becoming unbearable as he stood there. His breathing was shaky and his hands shook.
He tried to convince himself what he did was right…but he didn’t succeed and regrets finally brought him to his knees.
„Mother and grandsire are right… „ he mumbled as he punched his fist into the ground, groaning in pain. He knew what he is and from now on will be.
A kinslayer.
The one who started a war.
Killer of the weaker.
Lucerys stood no chance against Vhagar, everybody knew that. People will say it was an unfair match, hardly a match even. When he closed his eye, he could see again the pieces of Lucerys’s dragon falling down from the sky, his blood splashing around as Vhagar bit him in half.
He wondered…what happened with Lucerys’s body. Did he fall? Was he torn apart by Vhagar’s mighty maw? Or she swalloved him? He didn’t want to know. He’d rather not even think of it.
Aemond stood up and took of his clothes, casting them on the chair next to his bed and laid into his bed. The exhaustion from the events of these last few days finally got to him and he fell into uncalm sleep.
But his dreams led him back into that moment, where he and Vhagar slew his bastard nephew. He was forced to watch again and again as Vhagar, despite all his efforts attacked the defenseless bastard and his small dragon, shredding both of them into pieces.
He begged Vhagar to stop, but she didn’t. She again and again slew the dragon, along with the boy. Aemond started to scream and started to rip his hair out as the pain in his souls started to swallow him. It was unbearable.
He woke up, breathing fast and his heart was beating like a horde of horses running on the field. He was sweating all over his body, his sweat cold like an ice.
It took him a moment to calm down before he sat up and wiped his face from the sweat. Then he realized something. He heard a storm from the outside. He rose from the bed, took on his pants and walked to the window. It was raining outside.
The moon shinned through the clouds slightly, but most of the light was made by the lightning strikes. Aemond watched the lightning as they zig-zagged through the sky, shivering as the sound of thunder reminded him of what he did in a storm like this.
His breathing was again starting to shake as the memories were returning, biting his soul. Aemond clenched his fists and gripped on the window desk, mumbling to himself.
„He was a traitor… An usurper… He took my eye… He deserved it… He was just a-.“
„Just a messenger…“
Aemond flinched as he heard a voice behind him. Oddly familiar voice, but he couldn’t figure out where he heard it.
An assassin, he thought. He had no weapon to defend himself with, but maybe he’d outmatch the killer in a brawl. He quickly turned to face the expected opponent.
His eye widened and heart froze in sheer terror and disbelief.
Across the room, near the wall was standing a silhouette of a human. A small human, maybe head smaller than himself, clothed in cloak.
"...I was just a messenger..." The voice came from the silhouette.
Aemond's whole body began to tremble at the realization.
"I-It can't b-be..." He stuttered, gripping onto the window desk tighter.
The lightning strikes lightened the room enough so Aemond could see the person who stood in the room with him.
It was a boy with curly brown hair, soaked in water, slightly rounded face, scared expression playing on it. His skin was pale, almost shining in the light, his black eyes were vacant, tears flowing from them. He was clothed in black and red coat with golden buckles, red cloak, black scarf around his neck, belt with a sword around his waist.
All of his clothes were soaked in water, small drops dripping from the edges of his cloak, from his fingertips and hair.
He knew exactly who he was.
It was no asassin. It was much worse.
He was in the presence of his bastard nephew. The boy, who took his eye those years ago and the one whom he killed nearly two days back.
He stared into dead eyes of Lucerys Velaryon...