Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I don't own Game of Thrones or the ASOIAF Series, which both belong to GRRM.

"..." Character P.O.V.

'...' Character Thoughts

" ..." High Valyrian, Old Tongue, or any other languages

Chapter 1: The Return of the Black Prince

“If you want peace, prepare for war.” - A Valyrian Proverb.

- Prince Gaemon Targaryen the Black Prince -

- The Sea Dragon Fortress, Sea Dragon Point, The North -

- 105 AC -

Returning here was something he had longed for. Especially when such a want became delayed by certain affairs of his across the seas that Gaemon had to put in order.

As Balerion soared high above the sky, heading toward the Sea Dragon Fortress, his scales provided cover for the both of them against the night sky's darkness. Hiding him away from those beneath him on the ground. All the while, his hair, which had become long in his travels, flowed freely as the wind blew through it. He would need to have it tied once more into a braid. A boiling hot bath and a shave would also be in order, as his facial hair had become too long and unruly for his liking.

He did not dwell long on these matters concerning himself and his appearance for long, as the Sea Dragon Fortress appeared to him below in the distance. This made him, in turn, speak out in High Valyrian to give Balerion the command to land in the nearby forest, somewhat away from the enormous castle and out of sight of the watch turrets. His reasoning behind this was not only because he wished to walk to the castle but because he did not want the realm to know of his return just yet. Besides that Gaemon had to also gather his thoughts on what he was to do for the coming future once he did reveal himself. For once he did, Gaemon would have a family, a court, and a realm to deal with.

His elder brother, the king, was one matter entirely he would have both the pleasure and displeasure of dealing with—not only for more than a few good reasons but also because of Gaemon’s marriage to not only one but six women. 

While it was an issue Gaemon had handled personally with the Faith in his own fashion and made certain they heeled and that their objections did not impact his grandfather and elder brother’s in the future and now presently so far peaceful and prosperous reign, it still did not prevent the man from disapproving of his actions. Something for which he had inherited from their grandfather Jaehaerys, who also disapproved of his actions before he died but did not undo what he did.

Moreover, beyond that, the man who was both his older brother and king, who held the crown, had an ego.

Even as a child, Gaemon noticed that Viserys undoubtedly had issues with his sense of self-esteem going back to his time as a young prince, which was strengthened by his time on the throne. A prince and king both not noteworthy before his ascendency and who had not been prepared or trained for the throne. And even more, upon it had not done much to come into his own and properly rule from a seat of swords. Which after that, in equal measure, was the level of self-importance he placed upon himself for reasons unknown to Gaemon. It was clear that Viserys wanted a legacy beyond what he was already given.

There was a dragon in him like all the other members of their House, but it barely showed. His fire was dulled, almost doused even, especially where his character was concerned. It was somewhat ironic to Gaemon that his great-grandsire Aenys’ son, Gaemon's grandfather, Jaehaerys, was nothing like him, and his grandson, Gaemon's father, Baelon, was nothing like him, and yet it was his great-grandson, Gaemon's older brother, Viserys, who was most like him. A sight that was distinctly seen by the lords and proved by his brother's behavior even more. The only difference was that his brother had no dragon to ride, unlike his predecessors.

For the one Viserys wanted…Gaemon had at birth.

It seemed the Black Dread had chosen him and would have no other rider than he. 

Just as Gaemon wielded Blackfyre. A gift to him was given by his father, Baelon, who took the sword from his grandsire and told him to bestow it upon one of his children, whom he felt was worthy of the blade. Instead of giving it to Viserys or Daemon, Baelon gave it to Gaemon when he could properly wield it at thirteen name days.

Expressing to him upon his decision that the sword of their House and the Conqueror belongs to those who embody the House in its truest form and essence and are willing to defend it from all enemies. Foreign and internal. 

While they did not agree on much about certain issues and topics concerning their House and sometimes clashed on other matters before his passing, his father always appeared to lean towards favoring him. More than his two elder sons. It seemed Baelon saw more of himself in Gaemon.

Something that seemed to be more proven as the next after him was one of Gaemon’s biggest problems in equal measure, with his problems attached to his eldest brother, who just happened to be his father's second son. His other older brother, the Rogue Prince.

An issue of Gaemon’s that was a prevailing vexation that he had wished gone from his sight entirely and had wished not to cross yet due to the bad blood between himself and the man, but knew all the same, it would come in time. Gaemon dared wagered it might come to blows and get bloody between him and the man. 

His other brother Daemon was always one to not only sow chaos and piss people off but also knew not when to withdraw. Everything had to be about him. Everyone had to kiss his arse or his feet and the ground around him and even praise him. It was almost like he chaffed at everything their father tried to teach him and the rest of them.

Alongside that was Daemon’s meager vanity for already unnoteworthy accomplishments, which indisputably established that he believed his usefulness was greater than what it was.

Far exceeding to a level above his actual skill, worth, and value when, in actuality, it amounted to nothing lesser than worms.

A lesser, inferior, and male version of his aunt Viserra, if you would.

His rogue of a brother truly had no shame in thinking himself so damn important. As if he were the solution. Gods...spare them all.

Moreover, the fact that Daemon thought he was their elder brother’s rightful heir to the Iron Throne because Viserys had no sons seemed only to strengthen that arrogance and pride in himself.

Gaemon had never liked his second eldest brother and nearly hated him. 

Even as a child, the man now, even to this day, had always seemed just with his eyes to think Gaemon and his siblings to be deformed, unusual. Half-breeds even. Unworthy to bear the Targaryen name. It was true to some extent in the former, as their looks were not fully Valryrian like their father’s own on account of their mother being a Northwoman, which made them unique. Nonetheless, it all the same hurt greatly to be insulted in this manner.

And this in itself happened to bring about Gaemon’s own equal hatred of Daemon, which began to grow within him.

Soon enough, it bled out into the yard alongside his younger siblings. Who, like Gaemon when their rogue elder brother chose to turn up for instruction, never passed up on a chance to try their hand at besting and putting their wretch of an older brother in his place. Which was bloodied in the dirt beneath their feet. 

Beyond that, as they grew, Daemon had resented Gaemon because he was the more well-behaved…

...to some extent...and degree.

He was the more considerate, the more beloved, the more praised, the more well-noted, the more vigilant prince. Overshadowing not only Daemon but his elder brother Viserys and their elder cousin, Rhaenys, in a great many aspects in the eyes of their grandparents Jaehaerys and Alysanne. Gaemon had even earned his spurs of knighthood at thirteen name days for actual combat that was quite bloody. Hence why, he was given Blackfyre by his father Baelon as a gift upon swearing the vows of knighthood after he swallowed his pride and even made his walk barefoot to the sept to stand vigil the night before. Gaemon had proven himself worthy to wield the blade of the Conqueror in the eyes of his father, and who was he to deny his father's judgment on the matter?

A judgment written in blood when the Valyrian steel of Blackfyre was so sharp that, with a light touch, it cut through Gaemon's tunic, forcing him to bleed anew.

Endowing him with wounds that would heal but would also remain in the form of scars. The scars he still bore and wore as a badge of both honor and a reminder of the oaths of his knighthood.

He had even gone on further to make a name for himself two moons later when a large group of Robber Knights became infamous in the Crownlands and as far as the Kingswood, the lands of the Northeastern Reach and Northern Stormlands.

Instead of meeting them in the field on dragonback, Gaemon had met them on the ground and dealt with them personally.

Then, another moon after that, when some Myrish prince chose to try their hand at invading Tarth with the official backing of the Free City, Gaemon left without leave of both his father and his grandfather, the king. Setting fire to all the ships in the Narrow Sea atop Balerion before they could make landfall.

After which Gaemon moved on to the Free City of Myr itself directly…

…choosing to set a satisfactory extent of the settlement ablaze atop Balerion alongside their anchored fleet. Both weakened a city of the Triarchy, thus defining how Gaemon earned the moniker the Black Prince. 

Not only for his black armor and jousting shield but also for his dragon and his brutal methods in dealing with adversaries. There were many examples that came in the future later back in Westeros after what he did to Myr.

Nevertheless, Gaemon had not done it all for glory, honors, or boasting but to stop a war in its tracks. Avenge his favorite uncle. And balance out the price of royal blood lost in a prince who was supposed to be king after his grandfather instead of his father, the second son.

It was a loss felt deeply still by those of his House. He had even promised this to his father in person and to the man’s widow, Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, in a letter to her as a younger and grieving boy that his passing would be avenged. Yet when he actually jumped for the chance to carry it out, his brother, Daemon, being the conceited man he was, thought the opposite of him in this. Daemon had always felt that Gaemon was trying to upstage him and Viserys in every single regard. Not that he put any effort in that regard when it came to both his elder brothers...

It didn’t come to blows on most occasions but had nearly reached a point where it nearly did. Not on the ground…

…but in the sky on dragonback.

It started out of an affair affecting Daemon’s marriage to Lady Rhea Royce. Where in 99 AC, the High Septon dissolved the marriage on the grounds that it went unconsummated. Daemon had initially rejoiced until he found out the other reason beyond just the unconsummated grounds of it, which was that Gaemon…had begun fucking Rhea for quite a bit of time. All the way back to the night Gaemon had earned his knighthood. A year after Daemon and Rhea had been married to one another.

How had he managed to do so? To this day, Gaemon still doesn’t know and rationalizes the situation as nothing but him being lucky. Very lucky.

Then again, that wasn’t a fair assumption. Gaemon had no issues with physical appearance, physical care, or personality—qualities that made many a lady flock to him. Some ladies of the court even stated as much that Gaemon was something of an exotic taste to them within the House of the Dragon.

It was so true that Gaemon was such a physically attractive man that he had heard some knights and members of the garrison at the Red Keep make japes about it. That some of the visiting lords were forced to hide their wives, daughters, cousins, female relations, and even sons with particular tastes.

All the same, this offense of cuckoldry and being given the horns by his own half-brother no less so inflamed the senses of Daemon. The Rogue Prince had even gone as far as making the threat of flying to Runestone and burning it to the ground alongside the House that ruled from it. To which Gaemon did not take this lightly or kindly and made the returned threat of killing him and his dragon if he ever dared to turn his sights to the Vale. A threat he did not make lightly and would carry it out. It got so bad that their father, Baelon, their aunt Maegelle, their uncle Vaegon, and their brother Viserys had to break them up.

Even their grandparents, Jaehaerys and Alysanne, had to intervene to end the matter between them.

And while there would be no brother against brother, dragon against a dragon that would make one of them ultimately a kinslayer, the damage was done. 

The realm knew just how much Gaemon hated and looked down upon the Rogue Prince, who was his brother.

For what was there to be gained from being in the man’s presence and trying to win him over?

The grumpy, sardonic, insular, volatile, and chaotic Valyrian man whom he had the unfortunate displeasure of naming his kin. Daemon had always bordered on mirroring that of the huge rabid dog that was the dragon he rode. Such a person like that made him worry about the next individual that came to mind in his thoughts.

As after his second half-brother came his niece, the king's daughter, and the Realm’s Delight, Rhaenyra Targaryen. The young niece of his, who, just like him, had a rebellious nature and the old fiery Targaryen personality to her. 

Ever since Rhaenyra could crawl, walk, or even speak, the girl had been enamored with Daemon and him, and so was Gaemon toward her. For a time, Gaemon had been her companion around the Red Keep. He had snuck her treats when he could, much to the dismay and irritation of her mother. He had spoiled her with gifts, trinkets, and toys that he had bought within the capitol and afar, and he had even gone as far as to instruct her in lessons of their ancestral language. And when she did a good job to his eyes, Gaemon would take her up on dragonback for flights in the air.

This had brought a smile to Gaemon’s face. The memories they had shared were truly some of the happiest moments in his young life.

While he saw no problems coming in when they reunited, Gaemon still felt there would be some resentment on her part towards him for leaving. The two of them had been quite close to one another before he left, and the closeness went so far that Gaemon felt compelled to tell her he was leaving Westeros four years ago. In their last moments together, she begged him in tears not to leave when he decided to do so. It hurt to do that to her, but Gaemon felt he owed it to her to know and that he would return in time. 

It also made him wonder what her reaction would be toward him when they finally got within a few steps of each other and how she had changed in his absence. Would she accept him back into her presence, or would she not?

All the same, moving on from his family came the next major problem outside his kin that would no doubt be paramount once more, which was Ser Otto Hightower. His older brother’s Hand from the Hightower in Oldtown in the Kingdom of the Reach.

The city that was home to the maesters of the Citadel and the spiritual capital of the Andal Faith of the Seven. Gaemon’s reasons for not liking the Andal were unmistakable. Especially when they ran beyond his own First Man ancestry, and the grief the man’s House and city had caused his Gaemon's own House during the Faith Militant Uprising. 

Though the man had served his grandfather upon their father’s death and now served his brother after their grandfather as an able man, as all agreed, the Hightower, in his newfound position, was too proud, brusque, and haughty. Even now, as he heard. Gaemon himself noted that the longer he served, the more imperious Ser Otto became. Many great lords who brought the matter to both him and his grandfather came to resent his manner and envy him for his access to the Iron Throne. While that was not important to Gaemon and his siblings, the man’s power as Hand was.

Presenting itself as concerning and a danger even greater than the last who posed such a threat, which was the likes of Lord Rogar Baratheon.

Not even moons after the Great Council of 101 AC ended did the man, as Hand of the King, try to command him in forcing Gaemon to set aside his other wives. It was so bold that Gaemon merely laughed at its temerity when it was brought to the small council. When the laughter died down, he merely looked at the man before standing and stating that while he was the Hand of the King and the realm, his power only extended as far as House Targaryen and the realm allowed it to, and it lay with the realm alone, not to the House he served as a servant. Gaemon stated even further that he was not obligated to take orders from him or the Andal dog that he was as a prince of House Targaryen. That the matter of his wives was already settled by the king, by law, by the Conquest of their ancestors, and the Doctrine of Exceptionalism that the Faith had happily accepted under his grandfather.

Reminding the man also that it wasn't very long ago that a Targaryen with a dragon burned a sept or was counseled to burn down the Starry Sept in Oldtown itself to feel its warmth when an Andal bridled at what the royal House did. This produced the desired effect of having the skin of the second son and the Hightower of a knight, who was the new Hand, pale quickly at the implication.

Gaemon had even told the man in council that he was by no means obligated to bend to the Faith. Declaring that he was both half Northman and Valyrian and that he heeded the Old Gods and Fourteen of his ancestors. Who both did not frown upon such polygamous unions to his knowledge. To finish and drive the nail in the tomb further, Gaemon had told the man to focus on matters of the realm, as instructed by his grandfather, and to leave the matters of House Targaryen to the dragons of it alone. His grandfather agreed, and the matter was settled that day.

From that day onward, the battle had concluded in a triumphant victory in his favor and a loss to Otto. It seemed his grandfather, the king, despite his displeasure at Gaemon's brazenness to do what he did in marrying more than one woman, was surprisingly unwilling to back the newly made Hand who replaced his son, Gaemon's father. Even in his old age and declining health. Not to mention that if it had been settled with the Faith in Oldtown, then there would have been no reason to do anything about it. Yet Otto didn’t see it that way and didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

For what came after that was the matter in which Gaemon had to once more defend himself before the Iron Throne on the issue of invading Andalos. Which had been renamed the Dragonlands and placed under the direct control of his younger brother, Aemon. Presented to his younger as a gift in the form of his own kingdom to rule and protect.

When this was all revealed alongside his previous actions in taking the land, the Andal Hand had wanted many things done to Gaemon. Such as being arrested until he could be condemned, censured, attainted, and punished before all the lords of Westeros for his actions in an unprovoked invasion of foreign lands. Gaemon had found Otto's reasoning to be immensely humorous. Weighing that the lands he conquered once belonged to his craven ancestors who did not have the balls, brain, or will to fight against the dragonlords of Old Valyria to the death with such a strong pantheon of seven gods to fight on their side. Regardless, Gaemon, seeing the danger of this, demanded a Trial by Forfeiture to clear his name and present his reasons behind such a substantial action that would affect the political environment of Essos.

In a dramatic turn of events at the Red Keep in King's Landing, before all the Houses of Westeros that had come to observe the trial, Gaemon stood alone in facing the storm and potential ruin of himself.

It was here that Gaemon's younger brother, Baelon Targaryen the Younger, armed with forged parchments of hidden conversations and orders to a military arm that he claimed were taken from the Triarchy through his spies. Implicating a probable invasion of Pentos and its surrounding lands with ambitions further beyond, chose to present this before the Iron Throne. The forged words written in those parchments and letters were so damning that they protected Gaemon from both punishments but protected his reputation as well. In response, his grandfather Jaehaerys, seeming to comprehend the ruse beneath it all, at least to Gaemon's eyes, swayed the judges to declare him innocent. Much to the dismay of the Hightowers, Lannisters, Velaryons, and the maesters.

After which, for his bravery and willingness to almost damn himself in defense of the dynasty and to save Westerosi lives, Jaehaerys honored Gaemon with the title...Sword and Shield of the Realm.

A title that wasn't just a decoration but a sign of Jaehaerys' support, a monarch's support, and the crown's growing respect for him.

A respect that would cause more lords and Houses of the realm to flock to him and, thus, moreover strengthen his elder brother's position with more support when he came on to the throne.

While he proved triumphant once more in dealing with Otto Hightower in this regard, Gaemon and his sister, Visenya, alongside Maekar, Aemon, Baelon, and the rest of their younger siblings, merely invaded the region to see just how much authority the man wanted over situations. How far he was willing to strike out against members of the royal family. The Hightower Hand did not disappoint; it merely gave them all further insight into the man that was Otto Hightower. They now had the perfect measure of him beyond what their spies could and had offered them. It was a feat that not even his own rogue brother could manage for a number of reasons that differentiated between them.

Then again, Gaemon and his faction of kin always took a different page of approach to their problems. Though Gaemon was the Rogue Prince’s brother by blood and name, the similarity ended immediately right there and then.

What’s more, when it came to the proud, high-functioning, ambitious, ruthless political creature, pragmatist, and manipulator that was the present King’s Hand, a different approach had to be taken. More especially when the maesters stood at his call and command due to his House's closeness with the order, just as they had with the Faith. Another factor to why Gaemon felt that the Hand and His House were a danger to their dynasty. They had eyes and ears all across the realm through those grey rats with chains.

An equivalent sentiment that translated over to a second that was a thorn in the dynasty’s side and had to be similarly handled and dealt with was the Sea Snake, Corlys Velaryon. 

While they shared blood because of their ancestors and the members of their respective Houses continually wedding themselves to one another, it did not stop Gaemon from seeing the man as a threat. Not only because of the man standing as the richest in the realm, surpassing that of the two richest Houses in the Westerlands and the Reach, respectively, but for three paramount reasons.

The first was what occurred four years ago in what was known as the Great Council at Harrenhal. Because of the Sea Snake raising his fleet to nearly start a war to crown Gaemon’s cousin as queen, Jaehaerys was forced to call a council of all the lords at Harrenhal to vote on who would succeed him. Corlys’ actions, combined with Daemon’s own, practically gave the lords something that they weren’t supposed to have...

A right to choose in a system where absolute power should remain with the ruling House. 

So when the decision for a Great Council was to be convened at Harrenhal, Jaehaerys called upon Gaemon for his strength, whereas old age took his own. The Old King had given Gaemon the order to put down both sides lightly before a civil war could unfurl upon Westeros by capturing respective commanders and nobles from each side to hold them hostage. This did not bring about the desired effect that was supposed to force both the Sea Snake, just like his rogue brother, to yield so that both sides would attend the Great Council for a peaceful solution. Instead, it brought about the consequences of their sins in their actions, where Gaemon atop Balerion was forced to burn not only some of Corlys' ships but also some of his men and his brother's men in their encampments. To force them into a position to bow to Jaehaerys' will and decree.

It reached a point where Gaemon felt so outraged by the disregard and apathy that both sides displayed that the Black Prince had the hostages he took killed. Done by his own hand as taught to him by his mother and her House.

Gaemon had already been angry at the king for calling a Great Council and by both his brother and Corlys. The latter, more especially for starting all this mess. The Sea Snake's actions did not aid that anger in weakening with time but rather only bolstered it significantly more when Gaemon saw his bearing at the Great Council. Where it almost reached a point of eruption after Gaemon was also asked by Jaehaerys to bring his whole army of 150,000 men down from the North.

This was done to provide not only protection at the Great Council but also to dissuade conflict from breaking out from the claimant who lost after the ruling was presented. 

The second reason after that was that the Sea Snake was proud, almost as much as Daemon was. The only difference was proud men like Corlys don’t like having to look up.

He was overly pretentious because he was of Valyrian blood, and, moreover, he took everything as a slight if his House did not gain something from his efforts. These days, as he heard it? It meant everything against his House was taken as a slight if they were not offered more than the other Houses of the realm. Like Daemon, the man felt he was owed more because he had taken nine voyages across the known world. Claimed to be the foremost navigator.

And married a beautiful Targaryen princess who was once in line for the throne.

This entitlement ran so deep that the man was willing to withhold resources from his ships that traded across the Narrow Sea and far beyond it. Hence, the other reason why Gaemon took Andalos and gave it to his brother was that he made sure his grandsire accepted that a great portion of trade should be handled by Aemon and that a greater navy under direct Targaryen control should be built up over there as well. Not only to balance against the Sea Snake’s own and put the man like other lords in his place but also so as not to rely too heavily on the Velaryons' support and resources. Andalos was quite large, so why not use the lands and those of it near the sea to the fullest extent? The positioning of Andalos also helped in that should the Sea Snake think to become troublesome as he did before the Great Council in the future, House Targaryen could merely pincer him and his fleet from both directions of the sea and even blockade his ships to put a squeeze on his purses.

This brought Gaemon to the third reason, which played a part in the previous two and gave insight into the present circumstances: the Sea Snake was a seldom satisfied man despite all that he had accomplished in life.

Corlys was ambitious. Ambitious to the point of being destructive. The Sea Snake wanted to be remembered beyond his nine voyages as something more. He wanted the Velaryon name on a throne that was not his to have or even desire. And if he had his way, the Sea Snake would end the Targaryen royal name with his own blood upon the throne just to quench his legacy.

Hence, Gaemon felt that Sea Snake was unworthy of his cousin despite their very successful marriage. Gaemon felt personally in his heart that the Corlys only married her to get close to the royal family and the throne through her when his uncle Aemon had still lived.

Even his father, Baelon, openly stated this to Gaemon when he noted how upset the man looked at the great tourney celebrating both Gaemon's knighthood and the 50th anniversary of Jaehaerys on the throne. His cousin also shared the same look of umbrage on her features.

This brought Gaemon’s thoughts over to Rhaenys, the other bother in his head on her own to him. 

Despite being fierce, fearless, proud, clever, capable, beautiful, and a woman Gaemon had at one point desired, the Queen Who Never Was seemed determined to follow her foolish husband in his madness to fulfill his ambition. All because she and her husband, the Sea Snake, felt that her birthright and her children’s birthright were taken from them eleven years ago. An injustice that has not been forgotten with time…and never will. 

It had bothered Gaemon so much that before the Great Council was even a possibility, they had a private argument during the tourney to celebrate his knighthood and Jaehaerys' 50th year as king on the Iron Throne. Gaemon had even begged her to let go of her contempt for the entire House that had no part in wronging her, as it was Jaehaerys’ own fault and his alone. He begged her to let go of an ambition that could not be achieved before the gods, in their divine wrath, ripped away and destroyed everything she held dear for chasing it to a place without conclusion. Telling her to think of her children in all of this. She did not listen to him, and her refusal to heed him in this regard only further pushed her away from him.

A move that proved to be the right one with time.

Rhaenys’ resentment towards her entire House, the House that she was born into, only grew with the decision at the Great Council. And it only made Gaemon’s annoyance for her and her very presence before him go beyond the usual degree it did. Something that was made even worse, more so because of Rhaenys' actions...

...she brought about the Velaryons being hailed as the second Valyrian dragon-riding family.

A foolish decision from an even more foolish woman who didn't see her husband's desires.

Gaemon wouldn’t say he hated her, but he hadn’t loved her either for a long time now. Meaning he would not hesitate to unfurl his tongue upon her with hard truths, realities, and whatever else he could say to her.

The only few on that side of the family he was looking forward to seeing was Lady Jocelyn Baratheon…

…and his first cousins once removed, Laena and Laenor, he supposed. Gaemon never was quite close to Corlys and Rhaenys’ children because of the rift.

This brought Gaemon down last to those he was very close with, which happened to be his other siblings. 

Gaemon had looked forward to seeing them first, most of all, but he would also have to face them for his absence these past years. He suspected they would most likely be quite wroth with him but would welcome him back quickly. For they had always been tightly knit together and close to one another. Especially after their father had passed.

His return alongside Balerion would not only reunite the children of Prince Baelon Targaryen and Princess Lyanna Stark but also the siblings of the king. It would also force the lords and people to identify a coming shift with time. One begetting not only envy but fear and trepidation among those who felt the House of the Dragon was soft with a king who was not as stern and bullheaded, in some aspects, as his grandsire Jaehaerys I. Next to it, yielding the respect and caution from the lords that was expected of them when dealing with a House of Dragonriders. This belief in how things would change was strengthened even more by the fact that the largest dragon was not held by the king or his heir but by a young prince not only directly connected to them but also quite close to them.

Whose very existence already caused fear due to what he had already accomplished.

And so, as Balerion landed quietly and laid himself on the ground, Gaemon raised himself up. Grabbing his pack and satchel alongside his swords and blades, armor, shield, and spear before helping the individual with him climb down onto the ground from Balerion. He decided to move from here to untie the other belongings that he had strapped to his companion on the journey back before making his way to the dragon’s head to face him at the snout. Rubbing the scales of his large friend tentatively, he spoke to the dragon, who stared at him.

“Ēdrugon syt sir, uēpa raqiros. Ao gūrogon ziry tolī mirre īlon've issare rȳ.” said Gaemon to Balerion. (Sleep for now, old friend. You deserve it after all we've been through.)

Provoking the dragon, in turn, to release a low, rumbling purr as hot air left his nostrils. Something that made the young prince smile as he moved away afterward to tie everything together to carry on one arm.

Once everything was tied together as he had liked, Gaemon fully raised himself to stand and face the woman who had accompanied him back here.

“Ready to go?” asked the woman curiously with her hands on her hips.

“Aye,” spoke Gaemon answering.

Before making the effort to offer his free hand to her so they may make their way to the castle hand in hand.

The woman accepted with a smile happily as she wrapped herself to his arm, and they began their long walk.

It was quiet for the most part, except for the crunching of their feet beneath the cold ground as they walked down the road. As the two made their way to the castle, Gaemon’s mind ran fast and concernedly with many things. The quietness around him and the woman only made the thoughts even more pronounced.

“Aren’t you cold?” asks the woman on his arm quietly.

Gaining Gaemon’s attention as he turned his head somewhat and spoke.

“No. I’m accustomed to the cold climate of the North,” said Gaemon, answering as he looked forward once more. “If anything, I’ve got a lot on my mind. It’s been so long. Over four years since I was home.” spoke Gaemon, looking down to the ground.

Undoubtedly, dwelling on the number. Four years.

Four years it had been since he had last stepped foot in the North and West. Gaemon was excited to be back here, and yet, all the same, he wondered what the future held.

Four years in which he had used to travel to the edges of the known world and beyond. 

He had gone first to the Rhoyne and Sarnor and delved deep to see all of their respective wonders and history that had been left behind. He went next to Braavos and Lorath and after that to Volantis and the Black Wall, where he had met the woman presently on his arm. From there, he went next to Valyria and traversed past the smoky ruins not once but forty times to not only walk its streets but plunder it of the lost knowledge that his Valyrian ancestors once possessed. He had fought with the mightiest of the Great Grass Sea and, in Slaver’s Bay, fought duels in the fighting pits and caused a slave revolt. Only to make his way from here deeper into Ghiscar and cause havoc before flying to the Kingdom of Ifequevron, the Kingdom of Omber, and Ibben. 

Wherein next, he moved on to Lhazar and Qarth, where he met the warlocks in the latter, drank in their Shade-of-the-Evening, and fought against them to retrieve the woman currently with him by bringing Fire and Blood down upon them.

After this, he journeyed to the Bone Mountains, visiting the cities of Kayakayanaya, Samyriana, and Bayasabhad. He then moved from these cities, crossing the glorious site of the Jade Gates and visiting Great Great Moraq, Vahar, and Lesser Moraq. His journeys from here took him across the Cinnamon Straits to the Isle of Elephants, where he was welcomed into the city of Zabhad to dine and stay with the shan. A place in which he had stayed for a bit of time and came to an arrangement with its leader before moving on further into the Jade Sea, visiting Marahai and the Manticore Isles, before going back west and setting fire to the Isle of Whips—the latter for which came about after a run-in with slavers.

After that, Gaemon’s sight of travel turned to Leng, an island rich in spices and gemstones and with a rich history with Yi Ti. It was an island that welcomed him when he arrived on Balerion and gave him the pleasure of residing with their God-Empress. A God-Empress with whom he had come to care for as she had him, and was sad to see him leave as he was toward her in leaving the island. For his dragon took him next to one of the crown jewels of his time in the east…

…Yi Ti.

The great Golden Empire of Yi Ti, the place where he had once reached Yin, had dropped to his knees and prayed to the Fourteen and Old Gods for bringing him this far, and it was where he had stayed for some time. Where he stayed in the company of its God-Emperor and his court, trained with his best martial masters and weapons masters—before, at the end of all of it, traveling to Jinqi, Tiqui, Tradertown, and the Five Forts. 

The last of them, the massive fortresses of fused black stone, had always intrigued him in his youth. He had always wanted to see the mysterious fortress in person and walk its halls with his own two feet. He did not stay long there, and from that fortress, Gaemon then made his way into the Plains of the Jogos Nhai. Enjoying the hospitality of the tribes that welcomed him, bringing fire to those who attacked him, and wrestling with those great nomadic people of the land who called him a friend of their people. 

From here, he made his way to the Kingdom of Nefer, then to the Thousand Islands, staying in the latter for a short time before heading to the deep forests of Mossovy. He decided to cross the Grey Waste afterward to begin his walk among the shadows by visiting the cities of K’Dath, Bonetown, and the City of the Winged Men and Carcosa by the Hidden Sea. 

Making his way west before turning south and heading to the city…

…of Asshai. 

Roaming the sprawling city for leagues across both sides of the Ash, larger than Volantis, Qarth, King's Landing, and Oldtown combined to see the wonder and terror. The beauty and horror of it beyond imagining and obtaining the significant amount of arcane knowledge it holds. And when he grew tired of this and felt he knew enough, he dared to journey up the Ash to the heart of darkness…

…Stygai. The corpse city at the Shadow’s heart.

And it was in this that he finally saw enough and turned south to cross the Saffron Straits, traveling to Ulos and then the dense covered jungles of Ulthos. Before returning to the West to travel to the next destination on his journey, finally…

…Sothoryos. The continent the Dragonlady Jaenara Belaerys flew to on her dragon Terrax for three years and found it to be an endless land filled with only endless jungles, deserts, and mountains. Nonetheless, it held its secrets and held something that only he was able to gift to the woman on his arm.

Gaemon had wanted to see the rest of it for so long and never got the chance until he left Westeros, and he started by visiting the islands on the coast, such as first with the Basilisk Isles and Naath. From there, he went to Wyvern Point and searched the ruined cities of Zamettar, Yeen, Gogossos, and Gorosh. Upon this, he decided to go further south down the western coast of the continent beyond what was shown on the map. 

After a fortnight of flying, he finally found an even greater prize beyond his wildest imagination. Where after staying for well past half a year, he had begun making his journey back to Westeros. 

Gaemon had stopped in the Summer Isles first, visiting the islands there for a time before taking his leave to make his way to the North discreetly by flying only at night. Explaining how he was here now.

“I wonder what’s changed,” says Gaemon suddenly and quietly. “I wonder how I’ve changed,” said Gaemon further now.

This time, he was looking away from his feet and to his side, out towards the tree next to the road.

“Hmm…yes, one who has a capacity like yourself for brooding does have to wonder upon those things,” said the woman responding, sounding practically bored with him.

Yielding an immediate reaction from Gaemon, narrowing his eyes and releasing an irritated groan from his throat as he did not look at her.

A reaction that got a small chuckle out of her. She moved immediately to use her right hand to reach out to his collar to pull and bring him a measure down to her level as she grabbed at his jaw and turned his head to face her.

“Stop worrying.” spoke the woman softly now with a warm, tender smile.

A calming presence that is sealed more so with her placing her lips to his own in a kiss. One that he accepts without question and leans into eagerly before it is over too quickly for his liking. Something that she knows very well, and she moved to smirk afterward upon doing so.

It had given him something else to think about, and now that he was home, Gaemon felt the happiest he could be. He felt more at peace and relaxed and was glad to be home.

So, when he and the woman finally made it to the entrance, he prepared for the inevitable confrontation he was to have with the guards. He had thought about slinking in from another way. Gaemon helped his father and mother build this place when he was still young. He knew all of its secrets and how to get in discreetly without much issue, but then he felt that would not do. It would more than likely be better to face what came head-on instead of avoiding it for later. 

His father and mother had raised him to do that much in certain matters.

“Halt! Who goes there?!” yells the guard from his high position in the gatehouse, looking down at them.

Forcing Gaemon to look up and see others of the garrison near him with bows nocked, drawn, and ready to be loosed upon the both of them. Just as he trained them to do.

“An individual greater than a mere acquaintance to see the Princess once more!” spoke Gaemon, shouting up to the guard.

“The princess has no business with you or anyone for that matter. Not since her prince left years before.” said the guard in response to this with a more irritated expression. “Begone from this place, stranger…lest you want to part from this world by being filled with arrows.” says the guardsman further, his warning clear.

“Who did you think it was I was referring to?” asked Gaemon quickly.

Enjoying the looks of confusion at first before they shifted to understanding. 

“I think you'll find that the Princess will be most pleased to see her wayward husband after these four years,” said Gaemon further, this time with a smirk.

“My prince?” asked one of the guards, lowering his bow, hope brimming in his voice as he spoke.

"Who else would it be other than the man who gave you sorry cold northern dogs purpose?” asks Gaemon with mirth. “I am the princess’ nephew and husband, Prince Gaemon Targaryen, son of Prince Baelon Targaryen the Brave…and I have returned home,” spoke Gaemon more strongly now for all of them to hear.

He dropped the hood over his head so they could see his face and confirm that it was him.

At his return, he saw the looks of reverence and elation in their eyes. The sight transferred to the man leading them, who ordered them to lower their bows. Before, without missing a beat, yelled out the order for the gate to be opened. Forcing the men behind it to move quickly, open it immediately, and allow Gaemon to walk inside the inner courtyard. 

He immediately noted that everything about the enormous castle looked in order and even strengthened in his absence. A surprise to Gaemon, given Maegelle’s calm and peaceful nature.

Gaemon did not have long to take this in as the guardsman from the gatehouse had made his way down to the courtyard. Walking quickly, the man approached him and went to one knee with a bowed head.

“The Sea Dragon Fortress is yours, My Prince,” he said with the utmost seriousness.

To which Gaemon nodded at hearing before speaking.

“Thank you, Pate,” said Gaemon with gratitude in his voice before making the man rise with a gesture of his hand. “Please inform Ser Steffon of my return and tell him that I await both he and my wife and aunt Princess Maegelle in the Great Hall,” says Gaemon, continuing to speak with orders.

Deciding to make his way past the man after doing so as everyone began rising to their feet.

All the while, he heard it once more.

The exact words he had heard from friend, foe, and smallfolk alike when he first started leading men.

When he repelled the Great Robber Knight Rebellion of 98 AC and after he attacked Myr. To when he took apart the rogue Dornish when they tried to enter the Stormlands and the Reach. And lastly, up to when he invaded and conquered Andalos and all the events that came after leading up to the point before he left Westeros…

…The Dragon…

…The Wolf…

…The Black Prince…

…The Avenging Prince…

…The Dreaded Prince…

…Prince of the North…

…Son of the Forest…

…Son of the Volcano…

…The First of Ice and Fire…

…Swordmaster of the North and the Targaryen Dynasty…

...Warmaster of the Targaryen Armies...

…The Dragonwolf…

...The Troll of Winterfell...

...The Ice Dragon...

…Gaemon the Just…

…The White Wolf…

…The Dark Dragon…

…The Lustful…

…The Hedonist…

…The Deflowerer…

…The Black Dread…

…Dragon of Death.

These were the many names he had earned amongst both his people, the armies he led, and the lords of Westeros, and all of them he earned well and lived up to and would continue to do so…

…after all…

…he was home.

- Ser Steffon Darklyn -

He sat in his chambers in a chair near the fireplace, putting a whetstone to his blade. An activity he had done for so many years that it had become second nature for him to do so when he was relieved of his watch. 

It had always calmed his mind and allowed him to think. These days, for some years now, he has been thinking about a lot. While Steffon missed his brothers in King’s Landing, he welcomed the assignment by King Jaehaerys to guard and protect Princess Maegelle. It was his second greatest personal honor since guarding the children of Baelon’s second wife. And while he had welcomed and enjoyed his time here in the North, he could have made do with feeling the warmth of the South. Yet he knew this was not to be ever, not since his Prince’s disappearance from Westeros.

The House of the Dragon had felt his loss deeply, especially that of Princess Maegelle and his sister, Princess Visenya, with whom he had shared a womb alongside their brother, Prince Maekar. Then there were the other younger siblings behind him and other members of the family and court who were close to him.

When it had come to light that Gaemon had abruptly gone alongside Balerion, the family of Baelon and Lyanna had chosen not to set foot in the capital, the South, or the continent, depending on the individual. 

The siblings of Gaemon outside of Aemon, who remained in the capital for unknown reasons in Viserys' court, had rarely and barely spoken to those dwelling there. Some of them even regarded the other members of the family publicly and privately with acrimony, the foremost, in particular, being Daemon. Who they felt played a contributing part in why the prince made such an abrupt departure. Or so he believed. Prince Gaemon could sometimes prove himself to be an enigma to Ser Steffon.

Ser Steffon knew not what directly caused the prince to leave. Yet he knew that his argument with Prince Daemon played a small part in it.

It had escalated so far that not even a royal summons in these four years could make them set foot in the Capitol, and the Rogue Prince seemed to revel in that. Not having the rest of the family around and not having them constantly chastise and berate him for not doing his duty as a prince. 

Princess Maegelle, for her part, took up in leaving for the North alongside Lyanna and the last two siblings of Prince Gaemon, the twins Daenerys and Aenar. She declared her reason why before the Iron Throne and the court that she could no longer stay in the city or around those she could not aid. Princess Maegelle expressed that the whole matter of who sat on the throne after her father bothered her and that she could not be around members of the family who refused to be helped or refused to let go of bad feelings in a matter that was already settled. Expressing further that any talk to try to mend the former relationships between both sides was futile, and that she was done. Maegelle had calmly spoken this before her father, who sat on the Iron Throne, but she was anything but calm when she turned to Daemon. 

Princess Maegelle had addressed Daemon directly and coldly, stating that it was his fault that her nephew and husband had disappeared so suddenly. Even more, Maegelle said, with a harsh tone, that Daemon was not worthy of their family, the family that the gods had given him aplenty. Stating even further that he had truly dishonored his mother and father’s memory with his very existence. Before expressing that he was no dragon but a wyrm who was only biased as to who he counted as family and that for all his talk of the blood of the dragon running thick, he fell short of following that line of thinking. With this said, the princess finished off by stating that the Rogue Prince was no nephew of hers.

And when it seemed the Rogue Prince might dare to approach to attack, the elder siblings of Gaemon, alongside Ser Steffon and Ser Vorian Dayne, brother to Prince Maeker’s wife, drew their blades in anticipation. Even Princess Maegelle herself pulled a short blade out from her sleeve, one that Ser Steffon remembered Prince Gaemon gifting to her so that she could protect herself.

That day in the throne room, Ser Steffon was sure blades would be crossed until, surprisingly, King Jaehaerys spoke up in support of his daughter. Stating that it was her right to do so in opposition to supporting his rogue grandson. Who, while surprised, was forced to relent to the king, who would not even let him speak and that his decision on the matter was final. Ser Steffon understood why; not only had Jaehaerys lost many a child, but he had also lost a second grandchild. Ser Steffon even noted that day, King Jaehaerys looked further aged by the news of Gaemon’s disappearance.

There was nothing to be gained in denying Princess Maegelle this, supporting the Hand from Oldtown in denying their request to leave or defending the Rogue Prince’s tasteless actions. The last of them, however, did not see it that way, and when the Rogue Prince made to speak at being shamed, his grandfather silenced him with a mere look. The king while he allowed Gaemon and Visenya to speak as they liked to him, it was not a similar courtesy that extended down to Daemon, who was proving himself every day at being unreliable to the dynasty. Ser Steffon recalled when King Jaehaerys said as much to Queen Alysanne. He stated that when he was dead, Prince Daemon would ruin himself, his House, and the realm if he could in two years.

His thoughts on his grandson probably explained why Jaehaerys was not so eager to support Daemon over his daughter, his good daughter, and his grandchildren, who chose to leave the capital.

Thus, while angered at not being defended somewhat, the Rogue Prince, in the style that was befitting of him, left the throne room that day in a huff without a word and without being dismissed. It truly was a disappointing sight to see.

How Prince Daemon was permitted to continue on as he did, like others within the royal family, was not only beyond Ser Steffon but appalling to him. 

He thanked the gods daily that the royal family at least had dedicated members born to it who seemed concerned about the position of their House and the future of their dynasty. This thankfulness extended to the three eldest children of Prince Baelon by Princess Lyanna, who, while having small trials of their own, took to new responsibilities as best as they could without complaint. They even went as far as becoming finer people with age, the best among Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s extensive progeny. 

During all his years as a member of the Kingsguard, Ser Steffon had hoped for this—that and more. 

The Spring Prince’s renewed purpose in life after marrying the Stark Lady was one. The birth of more princes and princesses in the royal House to avoid another succession crisis was another. And the peace King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had made in the realm that would continue with the heir to the throne was a third. Yet amongst all this, Ser Steffon did not like certain aspects of the present king. It had not come about because of the endless feasts, balls, and tourneys but because of those around the man, whom he tried to keep the peace with instead of commanding. 

His rogue younger brother, for one, the less said he said or thought about the man, the better for his own head. Then there was his Hand, who, while adept in his position, seemed to revel too much in the power it gave it. Ser Steffon always felt something was lurking in the man, waiting to present itself. And after them was the king’s cousin and her husband. The latter, for whom Ser Steffon felt, was the greater problem because of his ambition.

To Ser Steffon, they all seemed to be more like snakes waiting to close in for the kill.

As for the other children of Prince Baelon and others in the royal family who were still alive, they were the only ones who had proper heads on their shoulders. Having the best interest of their House in mind when it came to issues and matters concerning it. For when Gaemon finally came of age with his siblings following behind or close behind in that regard, Ser Steffon finally saw the fire that was a proper dragon. Not like that of King Jaehaerys or his heir who had ascended Viserys, but that of his father, the Spring Prince, the Conqueror, and the prince’s namesake in the Glorious. The Kingsguard had finally gotten his wish in the form of Prince Baelon’s third son.

Only for it to be ripped from him and the realm when it just began…

…when the prince left Westeros. 

With that absence and how some of those within the royal family or those close to it reacted to such a sudden disappearance, Ser Steffon became disillusioned.

Ser Steffon was loyal without question, but all the same, he was disillusioned. The first signs of that began to surface after Prince Aemon died. Then, after that, with Prince Baelon’s own and Queen Alysanne's actions from there after that up until now. Bringing about the result of how the former's replacement came to be, Hand, and how he ran the realm from the first day in the office of a predecessor far better than he and that should have lived. The last of which Ser Steffon felt was the worst in how the Hightower appeared to try his hand at controlling the royal family rather than serving it.

It all finally culminated with how Prince Daemon had treated his younger brother four years before. He had stunned not only those of the court but also the kingsguard with what he spoke that day. It had especially appalled Ser Steffon the most and broke the wall on how much he could take, and it had become more pronounced with King Viserys. For when the young prince ascended to the throne after Jaehaerys, he kept Daemon around and allowed him to stay in the capital. A move that not even Ser Steffon understood and didn't want to.

The young Prince Gaemon was much admired amongst the kingsguard, especially by Ser Harrold and Ser Steffon, who had begun training him at arms from the moment he could walk. He was admired by the people, by many of the lords of the realm, especially of his mother's people in the North and in the Crownlands. He had made fewer enemies and did his best to bring reasonable complaints of the realm before the Iron Throne to his grandfather while he still lived. Yet the succeeding king after Jaehaerys did not have the wisdom like his predecessor and kept the temerarious Prince Daemon close to him at his side instead of removing him as far away as can be. A man who had enemies in nearly everyone and had no allies but the king, who had to defend him at every turn.

Another thing that was quite different in contrast to the brother younger than Daemon.

Unlike the rider of Caraxes, the rider of Balerion had fewer enemies and made sure it stayed that way with how he carried himself. Not to mention, his half-brother, compared to Daemon in more than a few aspects, like his other siblings younger than Gaemon, had wished to be of service to their House and learn as much as they could.

The sword, battle, and dragon were not only the prince’s greatest asset but also his mind. Another thing that the Rogue Prince saw as an issue with his brother when it first began.

“Ser Steffon.” spoke the voice of a man on the other side of the door, knocking as they did so.

Forcing the kingsguard to stop what he was doing with the whetstone and look up to the door as he spoke.

“Come,” said Ser Steffon, giving permission to the man on the other side.

Who immediately did so and entered while closing the door behind him.

The man in appearance was of an age with his vanished prince. Being twenty name-days in age and possessing fair hair that was a pale blond with a beard of the same color. 

Owning the purple eyes of his House that were in unmistakable similarity to the Targaryens.

“Ser Vorian,” said Ser Steffon, greeting the man. “I assume you have news? You usually don’t come to my chambers like this unless it's a genuine concern,” spoke Ser Steffon, adding and pointing this out.

“Oh, aye!” speaks Ser Vorian in agreement, not even bothering to sit as he approaches. “Pardon me for disturbing you at this late hour, Ser, but it can not wait,” said Ser Vorian, giving his reason.

To which Ser Steffon understood with a nod.

“Go on,” speaks Ser Steffon.

“The Prince, specifically our Prince, he has returned,” said Ser Vorian, answering, bringing this out to the kingsguard with a deep breath.

Drawing for a pause, he let a breath overtake the knight as he looked at Ser Vorian with widened eyes.

“Are you certain of this?” asked Ser Steffon before moving to stand. “When was this?” asks Ser Steffon further.

“The garrison at the gate just let him through just now moments ago,” said Ser Vorian, answering. “He had a woman on his arm who had the pure Valyrian look of her. Pate let him through the gate,” spoke Ser Vorian, continuing. “He’s waiting in the Great Hall as we speak,” said Ser Vorian, finishing.

The kingsguard nodded before breathing in to gather his thoughts before speaking again—this time with an order.

“Inform the Princess now," said Ser Steffon strongly, giving out his order. “I’ll see to the Prince myself to confirm this news with my own eyes,” said Ser Steffon as he moved to sheathe his sword.

Moving past the Dornish knight, who nodded, making his way out of the room, he made his way down the halls and corridors of the castle.

- Great Hall -

It took him a few moments, at his fast pace, to reach the heavy doors at the entrance of the Great Hall.

Ser Steffon had found it better to unsheathe his blade and open the doors, beginning his long walk to the high table. Heart pounding and blood rushing at the sight that greeted him, where the man claiming to be his prince stood standing. Eating the food provided and drinking the wine. The woman next to him, who more than likely accompanied him, chose to sit, eat, and drink her fill quietly as he did. 

The closer he got, the more his grip tightened around his sword, and the more his steps became determined to find the truth of this matter. The last of which was not lost on the man standing near the high table as his head turned somewhat in his direction, and afterward, he put down the dragon-carved goblet.

More than likely, swallowing the contents he took into his mouth before he chose to speak.

“You can sheathe the damn steel, Ser,” spoke the voice of the man.

A familiar voice. One he had made sure to remember and commit to memory if he ever heard it again.

“I recognized your footsteps…old man,” said the man further with warmth and mirth.

Ser Steffon had not heard the words in years—not since he had finished his duty of training and started squiring the prince. 

They had made the knight’s eyes widen somewhat as he looked at the back of the man’s head.

The man had moved upon saying this to face the Kingsguard, and when he did, the knight took in his features—features that he immediately recognized.

The man possessed fine, silken, loose, and curling black hair with gleaming silver-gold and rare white-gold stray hairs across it. A generous amount of his hair on the left side was entirely silver-gold, while on the right side, there were a few thick locks of white gold. His face was scarred by claw marks that, in such a way, didn’t take away his extremely handsome and near god-like charming looks but enhanced them with a dangerous aura.

His eyes were reminiscent to those of a direwolf in sharp shape, with them being a profoundly haunting shade of dark purple. Being much more pronounced than those of his father and grandfather’s own.

A great testament to his appearance being a mix of both his parents physically. 

On the other hand, his smile cuts deep like that of Valyrian steel yet has a warmness akin to that of his mother's own.

He is very tall, seven feet and four inches in height, broad-shouldered, powerful in appearance, and looked to be fearsomely strong as well, larger than both the Conqueror and the Cruel. Exceptionally healthy and built extremely strong, powerful, muscled, chiseled even, like that of a maiden’s fantasy, sinfully enough so to make a septa or motherhouse full of them break their vows of chastity. Being a mix between that of a dragon, a direwolf, a hellhound, a firewyrm, and a bull, with a thick neck, strong shoulders, strong legs, and strong arms. A further testament to his upbringing, training, and later life in these four years that passed.

He knew who this was despite certain aspects being changed and given to the man.

Ser Steffon Darklyn…

…went to one knee…

…he was looking…

…at the Dragon.

“My Prince,” said Ser Steffon reverently.

“Rise, Ser Steffon. Rise,” spoke Gaemon, commanding the man to do so. “It is good to see you are well and in good form,” says Gaemon further.

“That is kind of you to say, My Prince. I could say the same of yourself,” said Ser Steffon upon rising to stand, allowing a small smile to grace his face as he did so. “It seems that even in your disappearance, you found a way to grow further,” says Ser Steffon.

Making his prince nod as he spoke.

“Aye. I have…” begins Gaemon with a smile. “...in more ways than just one,” said Gaemon, finishing cryptically.

Confusing Ser Steffon somewhat at hearing this.

“I must also say that I salute you and Ser Vorian both for staying and protecting my kin. It means a lot to me that you would do so,” spoke Gaemon, regaining Ser Steffon’s attention.

To which the Kingsguard bowed his head.

“I only did my duty to the crown and King Jaehaerys, My Prince,” declared Ser Steffon humbly.

“Nonsense,” said Gaemon, insisting with a pat on the man’s shoulder. “You have guarded me and my siblings since we could walk; you even trained us,” says Gaemon, reminding the man of this. “You have my eternal gratitude for that and more. Always,” said Gaemon, finishing with a smile of eternal gratitude.

“That means a lot to me to hear it from you. Thank you, My Prince,” said Ser Steffon sincerely.

The words made the prince nod his head a couple of times before Ser Steffon noticed his eyes widen a bit.

“Oh! Where are my manners? I don’t believe you’ve had the honor…” began Gaemon, speaking trailingly with a smile. “…this is my aunt and seventh wife. The Princess Saera Targaryen,” said Gaemon further, introducing the woman.

This caused the knight in question to freeze in shock at hearing the words leave the prince’s mouth.

His eyes moved from him to look at the woman, who was revealed to be Princess Saera. The disgraced daughter of King Jaehaerys, who had fled the continent across the sea some years ago.

Who at thirty-eight name days looked well for her age and could pass for a woman a decade younger. 

The princess’ silver-gold hair was thick, voluminous, radiant, and beautiful, falling to the middle of her back.

Being short in height yet full-figured and buxom in body. Princess Saera was also gorgeous and beautiful, with pale skin, large purple eyes, full lips, and even larger, round, ripe breasts that could still be seen in an outline with all the warm layers she had worn to combat the cold weather here in the North.

To Ser Steffon, he'd dare say she was enchanting. Just like all the rest of the royal family and those that Gaemon took as his wives.

‘Gods be good, truly…’ thought Ser Steffon.

Even upon his return, the prince still found a way to stir the pot. Although not to the extent his brother did, some would argue that while Gaemon was more dutiful and reliable, he had a knack for being a greater pain in his own way than the Rogue Prince.

Yet, in the young prince’s case, it was as if Gaemon was itching for the Faith to be riled up to challenge him.

“Princess,” said Ser Steffon respectfully, bowing his head in equal regard for a moment. “It is good to see you are well and in good health after all these years,” said Ser Steffon further as he looked at the woman.

“Thank you, Ser Steffon,” said Saera in response with a smile.

Before the princess could say anything further, the large double doors of the Great Hall opened once more. Bringing all of their attention to it to see Ser Vorian walking towards them quickly.

Upon reaching them, the Dornish knight noticed the prince immediately and went to one knee.

“My Prince,” spoke Ser Vorian with his head bowed. “It is an honor to see you have returned,” Ser Vorian said continuing.

To which the prince shook his head with a small chuckle before speaking.

“Rise to your feet, Vorian. It’s good to see you are well, my friend,” said Gaemon with a smile still on his face.

Walking forward as he said so, and as Vorian rose to hold out his arm for him to take it in friendship before using his free arm to place a strong pat on the man’s shoulder.

“You as well, My Prince,” said Ser Vorian, smiling.

Ser Steffon would have allowed their reunion for a couple more moments if he had not noticed something that seemed out of place.

“Ser Vorian, forgive me, but where is the Princess?” asked Ser Steffon, bringing not only the Dornish knight’s attention to him but Gaemon as well. “Did you not wake and inform her?” asked Ser Steffon further, inquiring after this.

Forcing the Dornishman to give him and the prince an uneasy look before speaking.

“The Princess Maegelle awaits Prince Gaemon in their shared chambers, Ser Steffon,” said Ser Vorian before releasing a deep exhale from his nose as he turned to look up at Gaemon. “She insisted that you make haste,” spoke Ser Vorian, ending his words by giving the prince an apologetic look.

To which the prince understood and nodded calmly at.

“I see…” begins Gaemon, looking to the ground momentarily before refocusing on Ser Vorian. “...I assume I’m in a good measure of trouble, aren't I?” asked Gaemon, inquiring after what he was soon to encounter.

“I…can not say,” said Ser Vorian, hesitantly answering. “The princess did not sound it through the door when she gave me the command. Yet she was silent for a few moments before giving the command to me,” spoke Ser Vorian.

Making Gaemon nod even more.

“Hmm…I understand,” said Gaemon calmly before breathing in deeply and letting it out. “Well, I best be off to face the fire of her. Wouldn’t want to rouse her further beyond what she already is,” said Gaemon.

Deciding to take his leave now by walking past Ser Vorian and to the way out of the Great Hall, but not before turning to issue one final order.

“Oh, and do make sure Princess Saera gets settled in. She’ll tell you where the rest of our effects are with Balerion for the castle garrison to retrieve,” said Gaemon, speaking one last time.

Turning around now to quicken his pace out of the Great Hall.

Which, in turn, caused a chuckle to escape Ser Steffon’s lips as he only had one thought of all of this.

‘Hopefully, the princess is merciful to him for his absence these four years past…’ thought Ser Steffon.

- Princess Maegelle Targaryen the Venerated Princess -

She dressed quickly and then stood on the balcony overlooking the lower area of their chamber, waiting for her husband and nephew.

The northern winds howled outside the castle as she waited, and the fire in the fireplace below roared, warming the room. As she noted this, her mind wondered how much her husband had changed and how much he would remain the same.

She didn’t have to wonder for long as she heard footsteps, and the doors to their chambers opened. Maegelle turned to the direction where the doors would be behind the spiraling stairway, where she could hear her husband’s footsteps continuing inward.

Where before long, out of the shadows, there he was.

Gaemon’s steps slowed, and the noise of creaking leather from his boots quieted as he began to look around their chambers. At the fireplace first, before looking at her desk and his own. At a larger table containing a map of the Seven Kingdoms and one of the known world, Lord Corlys Velaryon partially discovered and filled out the rest with the places he had visited. At his trophies from hunts and other triumphs obtained in his youth and before his departure.

Her husband particularly stared long and hard at the mounted heads of animals he had killed himself.

The Wyvern. The Firewyrm. The Griffin. The Cockatrice. The Lion. The Black Stag.

And lastly, the Valyrian Silver Bull. The last of which felled his great-grandfather Lord Alaric Stark, whom Gaemon killed himself years ago to avenge him.

The seven particular triumphs whose skulls were dipped in Valyrian steel.

All of which Maegelle herself felt were symbols of what profoundly shaped Gaemon into who he was and what he had become before he reached thirteen name days.

Gaemon turned from this to the painting of herself and him together in Valyrian wedding garments that hung on the wall. He stood there staring at it for a few seconds, taking in every detail and no doubt remembering when they had it commissioned. Along with the fond memories that came with it and before it.

Maegelle allowed this sight for a few moments until she felt she had waited long enough.

Then, Maegelle made herself known.

“So you finally return,” spoke out Maegelle softly.

Instantly causing Gaemon to turn quickly and look up at where the voice came from. With slightly widened eyes, he brought his sights to her, calming down as he continued looking at her and she at him.

“Aye,” said Gaemon, guilt layering his voice as he spoke the word of confirmation.

Bringing his eyes away from her to look at the fine carpet beneath his boots.

“It’s been four years,” spoke Maegelle further, deciding to remind him of this now.

Her words did the job of making Gaemon feel more guilty about his absence.

“It has,” said Gaemon, undenying. 

Seeming to tread carefully around Maegelle in all this, which she welcomed. He walked closer to the foot of the spiraling stairs as she, in turn, made her way down to get closer.

“I didn’t think you would remember or keep track of how long it has been,” said Maegelle softly but with a measure of coldness in her tone.

“I remember and made sure to keep track of all the time I had been gone,” said Gaemon calmly. “It was foolish of me to do so…and in the way I did it,” said Gaemon, admitting.

Maegelle did not respond and instead leaned on the marble dragon at the front of the barrier of the spiraling stairwell before doing so.

“Do you truly believe that?” asked Maegelle, inquiring after this. 

Her expression was calm and gave nothing away.

“Yes, I do,” said Gaemon, softly answering. 

His eyes never left her for a moment as he did so. All the while, Maegelle nodded her head at this answer before speaking.

“Good,” said Maegelle.

Upon expressing this, she looked away from her husband and toward the fireplace, which still glowed with the warmth of the fire.

All along this, Maegelle could hear Gaemon release a deep breath before he spoke again.

“You have the right of it to be cross with me in all this,” said Gaemon, acceptance in his voice.

Causing Maegelle to look back up at him as she spoke.

“I understand that it was your mind in turmoil,” spoke Maegelle quickly and contemptuously.

Her eyes showed a measure of the hurt and anger she held at the reminder of his departure.

“And so was yours for a time,” said Gaemon, responding.

Distinctly referring to when Maegelle chose to marry him and forsake her vows to the Faith.

A decision that had its own problems, but that she did not regret at all. Yet, all the same, also had her mind going in one way to another at such a decision.

“Yet only one of us chose to stay despite the differing circumstances,” said Maegelle in response to this, reminding Gaemon of this great detail.

He never looked away from Maegelle as she said this. Gaemon seemed to be set on facing the storm and Dragonfire that was bearing down upon him, which was her.

“I wanted to. I truly did,” said Gaemon softly and with regret.

Silence passed between them for a few moments. 

The wood crackled in the fireplace, and the wind howled outside the castle as they stared at each other. 

Gaemon’s mouth opened once and closed again for a second before he seemed to find his words on the third attempt.

“I don’t know what madness possessed me to leave in such a way without telling…” begins Gaemon, making Maegelle’s eyes turn away. “...or why I did it in a manner that was sure to hurt you, and why I chose to do it over words from someone who seemed never to accept me even from birth…” says Gaemon, continuing to speak. “...but I do know…that it was more beyond that, and when I initially left, it was my most craven and disgraceful moment to you,” spoke Gaemon further.

The words hit her heart as she heard them, yet she chose to stay quiet to see if he had to say more.

“For I wanted to stay with you,” said Gaemon, softly giving his reason. “I wanted to overcome this storm hanging over my head with you at my side. To properly help me do so,” said Gaemon, finishing.

Maegelle’s eyes became somewhat watery with tears at hearing this being spoken.

She even looked up at him and saw his eyes still on her.

“It was just that feeling of leaving you that tore me apart,” expressed Gaemon, confessing this.

He stopped once more upon saying this to Maegelle as he breathed deeply to gather his thoughts.

“You know I’ve come here to return home and all that and try to restore things to how they had been…and if you don’t want that, that is fine. I’ll leave…” spoke Gaemon trailingly, making Maegelle look at him more intensely. “...but I’m not going to leave here without you knowing that I have loved you since the day I laid eyes on you and could remember. And I will love you until the day I die when they wash my body, wrap it in those blessed linens, place the coins over my eyes for the boatman, and burn my body,” declared Gaemon further. “And I do not regret a single moment in how our lives became entwined in such a way that led us to each other…that led us to bind our blood together as the Conqueror and his sisters…that led us in choosing to burn together…except for the day I chose to leave like a coward,” spoke Gaemon strongly, finishing this time.

Maegelle’s tears had left her eyes freely now as she looked at Gaemon. 

Her heart soared to hear his words. She had longed to hear them, even. 

So when she did, and Gaemon finished speaking them, Maegelle made a decision of her own there and then. 

She would not let him leave again. Ever. 

Not without her at his side.

“Do you know the worst thing about you?” asks Maegelle, looking at him while beginning to wipe her tears.

His face was relaxed at her question, but his voice was playfully calm.

“The timing of all this?” asks Gaemon before a small smile graced his lips. “And how much of a horseshit I’ve been as a husband?” asks Gaemon further.

“Don’t,” says Maegelle, warning him softly.

Gaemon didn’t seem bothered by this; instead, he walked forward slowly to her. The small smile remained on his face as he did so.

“Or how much I make you worry about everything?” asks Gaemon, still wanting to know.

“Don’t…” says Maegelle, trailing with warning.

All the while, Gaemon’s hand reached out to hers before trailing up slowly to her forearm. Grabbing it delicately and slowly pulling Maegelle to him.

“What?” asks Gaemon softly.

Her eyes looked up at his question, and as she looked at his smile, Maegelle grew somewhat angry. She couldn't have stopped herself if she had tried.

Her hand reached out at the speed of what they could both assume was a whip.

She had slapped his face. Hard.

Shocking him completely but forcing a chuckle out of him after a few moments.

“I would’ve been quite worried if you weren’t wroth with me to the point of striking my face. After all, I was gone for quite some time,” said Gaemon, japing.

She slapped him again, this time a bit weaker, before she chose to hug him tightly.

“You stupid, man…” spoke Maegelle, softly and trailingly into his chest. “Don’t you ever leave me alone again? Ever. Promise me, Gaemon, promise me.” begs Maegelle. 

Her voice was vulnerable, and her tears spilled softly on his tunic.

For four years, he had been gone, and now she had finally had him back. She would not let him go.

A sentiment shared by her young husband whose strong arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he spoke.

“I promise,” speaks Gaemon softly to her as his lips touch the top of her silver-gold hair. “Never again,” said Gaemon further.

“Mhm,” spoke Maegelle, murmuring into his tunic with a very small nod of her head.

Glad to hear that Gaemon would honor her demand.

He moved now to detach himself from her somewhat, but not to the degree that they weren’t holding each other. Where with the back of his right hand, Gaemon began to wipe away Maegelle’s tears. All the while, he seemed to admire everything about her. From her long silver-gold hair to her purple eyes and her face.

Committing every detail of her to memory before speaking once more.

“Now, no more crying…” declared Gaemon calmly yet firmly in a trailing tone. “...I hate to see you cry and look like this. To see you hurt because of my doing,” says Gaemon further as his right hand came to hold her cheek, and his thumb caressed where her cheekbone was.

Silence once more passed between them, and a small chuckling huff escaped Gaemon’s nose as he continued to look at her. 

It was something Maegelle had to inquire about out of genuine curiosity in her want to know.

“What?” asked Maegelle.

“You look beautiful…” said Gaemon, admitting, his voice a mix of being serene and throaty.

Although it held awe behind it as well. As if she were a goddess in his eyes.

“...just as you did on the day I left,” spoke Gaemon, finishing.

There was an intensity to his eyes that made a certain heat develop between her legs.

The same she had seen in him since he was fourteen name days. The look she knew all too well…

…he had wanted Maegelle.

Wanted to take her…

…and she wanted to do the same to him.

His head moved to hers slowly, and before long, his lips touched hers in an intense and fiery embrace—a display that told Maegelle how much he had missed her in his absence. 

One that she returned with equal passion and went on to plunge her tongue into his mouth. Into an embrace that only their Valyrian ancestors knew quite well...

...the act of incestuous relations.

Nephew to aunt. 

Dragon to dragon. 

Fire to fire.

Blood to blood.

Their own blood did not lie, and could not deny one another this. They were Targaryens, through and through. Answering to neither gods nor men.

Maegelle wrapped her arms around his neck to place herself more into him. Gaemon was not idle either; he met her tongue with his own, lifted Maegelle off of her feet, and twirled her around and away from the spiraling steps. Placing her down once more, only for his hands to trail from her waist down to her generous backside. Advancing quickly to greedily fondling, grasping, groping, clutching, massaging, and kneading the large, significant, and generous mounds of flesh that were her arse.

Gaemon was greedy for her. Voracious even.

It made her moan...and only inflamed her dark desire and lust to have her nephew here and now on the carpet beneath their feet. To have him tear Maegelle's dress off, rip her necklace of the Seven-Pointed Star from her neck, and toss it into the fire. Before taking her roughly...

...like one of those Starks of old from the historic tale of when they took the Warg King's daughters as prizes of their own to be used...

...yet she knew she needed to stop. For good reason at that, too. 

Hence, she removed her lips from his own.

“Gaemon…not here…not yet…” said Maegelle, whispering loud enough for him to hear as his lips sought to capture hers again.

“Yes…here. Now. On the floor,” spoke Gaemon lustfully, responding and determined to do so. “I haven’t felt your touch in four years, and I will not be remiss any further in my duties as a nephew and husband in pleasing my beautifully pious aunt and wife…” says Gaemon trailingly.

Maegelle appreciated this about Gaemon: his softer side, which he only showed to his loved ones, particularly to her.

His compassion, his empathy for another, his great caring nature, his capacity to love, his loyalty to her, his sincerity to those he opened his heart to, his passion to show his intimacy.

Gaemon was always eager to mend any rifts between them and please her. Yet, at this moment, Maegelle knew appreciation would not get him to stop, and she would need to be firmer with him. 

Bringing about her present actions in grabbing his wrist and stopping his moments to speak again, this time in a firm tone, but before Maegelle could do so a noise was heard.

Alerting both individuals to the spiraling stairs and making Gaemon out of the two of them to move into an alert state. He turned quickly while putting Maegelle behind him as he pulled out a short sword that looked to be made of Valyrian steel. Waiting for whatever it was to come down the steps, and before long, he found in his answer as she did…

…in the form of a small wooden shield. One that was made for a child to play with.

It confused him quickly in rapid order and made him turn to Maegelle with an even more confused expression on her face. A sight that made her let out a great sigh as she turned her eyes away from his to the stairs and spoke.

“You can all come out now,” said Maegelle in a raised tone that never diminished the softness of her voice.

Her command was never answered, and nobody seemed to reveal themselves. 

This caused Maegelle to let another sigh escape her lips as she stepped to stand next to Gaemon and spoke again.

“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you all. I promise,” said Maegelle, softly. “Now come on out,” spoke Maegelle encouragingly.

Now, waiting for her words to be acknowledged again, and this time they were.

For out of this came small steps being heard coming down the stairs, where one head of silver-gold hair peeked out at them. Another head with a mix of silver-gold and black hair peeked out. Before, a third and final head with entirely black hair peeked out.

Possessing the same Stark direwolf-shaped eye that happened to be as purple as Maegelle and Gaemon’s, except for the second, who held a grey right eye and a purple left eye.

After a few moments of staring, they all stepped out and walked down the stairs. Revealing themselves to be little girls no older than four name days, holding each other’s hands before hiding behind the one who was clearly the eldest. Still managing to stare but not speak.

In all this, Maegelle turned her head from the three girls to look at Gaemon. Whose expression seemed confused at first about who they were, but then morphed quickly. Like that of striking lightning instantly at a sudden realization. A realization that made the Black Prince turn to her for an answer. An answer he wished to have confirmed from her lips.

“These three are Vaella, Alyssa, and Alarra,” said Maegelle, revealing in a soft whisper with a smile while taking his free hand. “Our daughters,” says Maegelle, continuing to speak as she turned to them. “Girls, this is someone very special that I want you all to meet,” said Maegelle, speaking out to them.

Turning her head now to look at Gaemon, an expression on her face inclining for him to introduce himself to them.

She could see the nervousness on his features but noticed that he choked them down. Clearing his throat, Gaemon gently slipped his hand from her grasp to put his blade away and slowly began to walk up to the girls. He did so very slowly so as not to scare them. When he got close, Gaemon got down to his one knee to be at their level of height before speaking.

“Um…” begins Gaemon delicately, unsure what to say. “...hello to you all. I’m Gaemon. Gaemon Targaryen…” said Gaemon, continuing to speak by introducing himself as he looked upon them all. “...and I’m all your father,” said Gaemon, gently revealing this to them.

Maegelle could clearly see their reaction to this information as all three of their girls' eyes immediately widened. They seemed not to expect this man to be their father, whom Maegelle had spoken so fondly of in the past when they asked about him.

Alyssa's shock was the most pronounced among them.

Their second eldest daughter freed her hand and stepped out from behind Vaella to stand before her husband. Her brave little daughter was holding a stuffed dragon in her arms as she spoke.

“Kepa?” asked Alyssa with wide eyes, still seeming unsure. (Father?)

“Kessa,” said Gaemon, responding to Alyssa in Valyrian with a smile. (Yes.)

However, the same couldn’t be said for Alyssa, as her face frowned and tears came down her face.

Yet before Gaemon could say anything further to inquire why their second daughter ran and jumped into his arms.

She hugged as tightly as she could and cried at the same time. 

“Kepa!” yelled Alyssa, crying out loudly and tears spilling from her eyes as she did so. (Father!)

She was very emotional at finally meeting her father, which was to be expected.

Gaemon had left when Maegelle found out she was with child. He didn't experience being told the news, didn’t experience their kicks against her stomach, their birth, the infancy of their girls. The celebration of their shared second name day in overcoming their infancy, their first words, their first steps. He wasn’t there for them to get to know him, to sing to them, to tell them stories, or to teach them.

Yet he was here now, and that was all that mattered to Maegelle.

This was something similarly shared by Gaemon, whose eyes, while they held sadness at missing such moments, hoped to build something up with their girls as a father. Therefore, Gaemon began first by hugging Alyssa back in a warm embrace in an attempt to calm and assure her that he was real and not a dream. He then turned his eyes on their eldest and youngest while holding out his arm for them to come forward, too.

His action in this was recognized, and their eldest and youngest daughters came forward in the same way, crying and hugging him as tightly as possible.

Gaemon settled for just holding them in an embrace, all with a smile, tears of his own spilling from his eyes, and a sigh of gratitude at their acceptance of him leaving his lips. 

Yet Gaemon did not seem satisfied just yet with this. His head turned to Maegelle, and with one arm, he held it out once more, this time for Maegelle to come over and join them.

She immediately did so and came over, hugging Gaemon and their girls.

She thought she wouldn't cry herself, but the tears spilled from her eyes after she heard Gaemon speak.

“Iksan kesīr, ñuha byka ābri, iksan kesīr.  Se iksan daor jāre naejot henujagon jeme arlī.  Nyke kivio jeme bisa.” said Gaemon in High Valyrian, securing this promise with his arms tightening slightly around them. (I'm here, my little ladies, I'm here. And I'm not going to leave you all again. I promise you all this.)

It felt good to hear those words, especially from Gaemon. For he meant every word and kept every promise he could. 

Though more importantly, Gaemon was here. 

With her and their children.

Their family was whole.