Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 39: Blood, Brotherhood & Betrayal.
Daemon Targaryen was not having a good week. It had started well enough with his brother being declared heir to the Seven Kingdoms and named the next king. But before he could properly celebrate—or even taunt Rhaenys and Corlys—the king had already sent both parties away on their dragons, to the Vale and Driftmark respectively.
The fact that the king sent him, the Rogue Prince, to his wife's home to have a child immediately rankled him even more. Daemon satisfied his rage by killing some wildlings in the Vale, drinking, and whoring. There was not a single day he didn't end the night deep in his cups and in some lady's bed.
But that day unlike before he was asleep in the keep and his own bed, and was awakened early, he nearly killed the maester who came to rouse him at a godforsaken hour. Only the fear of the reprimand from his king stopped his hand.
Daemon's head pounded under the harsh sunlight pouring in through the windows after someone removed the curtains. He blinked rapidly to adjust to the light, unsurprised to see the smirking bronze bitch.
"What the fuck do you want, my bronze bitch?" he growled.
"It seems my nameday present has come early. You've been tasked with some errands I am unaware of. Here's the letter," Rhea said, throwing a sealed parchment at him. Even Daemon couldn't miss the king's seal.
Cursing the gods, he opened it and read.
"Fucking bullshit," Daemon snarled as he rose. He tossed the letter into the nearby fireplace, where flames eagerly devoured it.
The eerie, whistling howl of Caraxes echoed through the castle as Daemon dressed.
"Wench, arrange food and some drink for me now—and to take with me," he snapped.
"Where are you going?" Rhea asked.
"None of your business, my bronze bitch," Daemon muttered.
Daemon cursed the old king as he suffered the cold of the North. He thought he would never return to this wasteland, and even he was surprised by how soon he had been forced to come back after his last visit. It angered him that the king was using him like a glorified pack mule. He was to carry Viserra to Dragonstone if she was fit to fly for a family meeting. After that, he was to head to Oldtown and drag Uncle Vaegon back to Dragonstone after finding him on the road.
Daemon again cursed everyone he could as he walked towards the place caraxes rested His aunt had been too tired to fly with him, and his entire journey had proven pointless. He didn't want to waste any time and he was going to fly back to the south. He was so irritated that he decided not to even inform anyone he was flying back to the south.
Let them wait and wonder, Daemon thought with a smirk.
He scratched Caraxes and gave the signal to prepare for flight when a familiar voice interrupted.
"Going back so soon, Prince Daemon?"
Daemon groaned in irritation at the sound of Lyanna Mormont.
He didn't even turn around before answering. "None of your business. I have better things to do than indulge your curiosity."
"Well then, I'm coming with you. I've never been to the South, and it seems like a good time to find my father and kill him—for not inviting me to his wedding, or even informing me of it. Maybe you should join me. You have cause, too. You missed your aunt's wedding after all. With Valyrian steel and Caraxes backing us, maybe, we could make the bastard suffer considerably," Lyanna said with a growl.
Daemon usually ignored meaningless prattle from women, but even he registered two things Lyanna had just said: the bastard had married. He wondered who in the seven hells would marry a bastard. Some peasant? A whore?
Even before finishing that thought, he turned around and snapped in rage as his mind processed the fact that the bastard kidnapped Gael and married her, a true valyrian princess while he was denied her hand.
"What?"
Only the Valyrian steel aimed at his throat stopped him from grabbing Lyanna by the neck and choking her. He almost ordered Caraxes to burn her alive, but took several deep breaths to calm himself. Afterall he needed the information.
How did you know? Even I am unaware of what happened to Gael as of now.
Lyanna smirked. "It's hard to have spies near my uncle Cregan, Aethan, or my father. But my father has many blind spots. You see, he entrusted baby me to Fenrir, and Fenrir loves me so much that he allows me to warg into him sometimes. But even I was surprised when it seems that Fenrir cared enough for me that he warged to me so that I was able to watch my father's wedding. It's the only way I can keep track of him—when Fenrir is nearby. He uses Fenrir to watch over me too. They were married on the Isle of Faces. Uncle Aethan officiated the ceremony. Now, I must find my father and kill him for ignoring me."
Daemon remained silent as he processed the implications of such long-distance spying—and its usefulness. But his thoughts didn't linger there for long. The anger returned. He wondered how the old king had discovered this and why he had called a family meeting now.
He stared at Lyanna and finally said, "Fine. You can come with me. At least you'll be useful in finding the bastard."
Daemon Snow
Even I sighed in tiredness as I cuddled with Gael in the best quarters on the ship. As always, gold was king, and I had paid the Essosi merchant enough to be given the best treatment possible. For the last three days, it had felt like a honeymoon at sea, and we had made love often. Even I was exhausted from the constant sex, and Gael was completely out of it.
I was so completely engrossed in my activity that I didn't even keep an eye on any of my warg animals except for Fenrir and Morghul. Morghul was slowly floating and flying behind our ship with enough distance that no one could see him, while hunting any big fishes he could find. He even made a game of it—how much underwater he could dive before he had to come up for air. I even heard some of Morghul's thoughts of how he was the king of the skies and land, and now finally he would conquer the waters too.
I allowed it, as it was not the west side of my continent, and maybe training now for underwater is good, as I remembered the unsettling presence I felt when I was in the Sunset Sea.
Maybe it was because of how tired I was after the ritual, and how much Morghul drew from me, or even how much I was tired after three days of sex, I fell deep asleep as I cuddled to Gael.
It was to a poisoned sword to my own throat and Gael's throat that I awoke to, as my mind was awakened by Morghul using his fire and both Fenrir and Morghul sending enough energy through our bond to work through whatever sleeping agent or poison we must have been consuming for the last three days.
"Didn't expect that, didn't you, monster? The Mad King will suffer the same pain we felt when your head and the pretty head of his youngest daughter will be sent to him," the Essosi said with a smirk. My hands were not even tied, and I could easily kill the attackers and be done with it, but I was curious how a no-name merchant like this found me through our disguise.
For a brief moment, I contacted Morghul and I got that the ship was docking into one of the smaller islands in the Stepstones and there were ten pirate ships.
"How did you find out?" I asked calmly and still lying on my cot, not moving.
Maybe my presence leaked from my iron control or something, all three stiffened for a moment. I had already felt Gael waking up and playing possum, so I was not even worried about her being beheaded. Even before the ritual with consuming my blood and even semen, for the last several years, Gael is fast enough to dodge a clumsy pirate, especially when he was more concentrated on me.
"You dare to ask questions when you are at my mercy. You are that mad king's grandson enough. It was just like the Lorathi said, the grandson is of the same mould as the mad king. I couldn't believe my ears when he revealed the truth to me about who my wealthy passengers are, but hearing you call the names made me see through your disguises, well at least of the princess. And now you can watch as entire ships of pirates have their way with your lovely bride, and then you both will be auctioned to the Triarchy."
I almost lost my control and killed him then and there, for threatening Gael, but I somehow managed to control myself. The man who identified me is yet to be seen, and I was still curious.
"Lorathi? I have never seen one of those in my life," I said with a shrug, which made the sword actually touch my skin with enough force to make any normal man bleed. The pirate's eyes widened slightly, seeing no purchase, and he ignored it with a shake of his head.
"Well then, let's get this over with," I said as I raised my hand as if I were surrendering.
I sat upon the glassed lands of the small island near the torso of the Lorathi—surprisingly, a faceless man. It was almost the end of the night, and the glassed beach reflected the fires of the eleven burning ships and even all the people, small buildings, and structures on the island.
Morghul had been furious and went overboard a little bit. As I killed the Essosi and pirates who infiltrated my room, Morghul attacked the ten ships. I then went with Blackfyre in my hand to clean the ship.
It was when both Gael and I landed on the island that the Lorathi attacked out of nowhere. Even with my enhanced senses, I didn't pick him up from all the smoke and chaos around us. I thought it was some nobody, and I started the fight half-heartedly, which I immediately regretted as I was pierced twice by the speed and sheer skill. The fighting was an amalgamation of multiple disciplines enhanced by speed.
I decided to increase my own speed and slightly stumbled as the poison began to work through my system. It said much about how dangerous it was that it took five minutes for my body to work through it while I was fighting, with Fenrir constantly supplying me energy to fight through the weakness. I was curious who the Lorathi was; I hadn't recognized him as a faceless man yet. Only a slight nudge from Morghul as he passed over me, breathing fire and eating many pirates, triggered a word in my mind:
Faceless man.
The fight went on for ten minutes, and the end result was before me.
The faceless man was still alive but lacking both arms and legs.
"So why does a faceless man want to kill me?" I asked with a frown. "I have excellent relations with Braavos, and yet here you are."
"The Many-Faced God wants your face, and he will have it," the faceless man replied, not a hint of pain in his voice.
Morghul landed behind me and looked upon the Lorathi.
"Daemon, use your sight," Morghul said.
I almost slapped myself for not using my magic sight, as it is painful to use constantly. I activated it, and I could see the magic all over the faceless man, especially concentrating on the head. I almost closed my sight when Morghul said,
"More power, Daemon. You will want to see this."
I increased it and was immediately shocked to see a gray sludge-like connection from the faceless man flying off to somewhere very distant.
I understood it immediately, as it was similar to my own bond with Gael, Morghul, and Fenrir—the only difference being mine is golden, and this one looked like bad news.
I remained silent, not wanting the faceless man to know I had understood their secret.
"Gael," I called as I extended Blackfyre to her. "It is time. You must take your first life now so that you will not hesitate in the future during fights."
"Are you sure Daemon that I must do this?" Gael asked with a frown.
"Yes, my love. It is essential to get over it in safe conditions than in a fight for your life. Also, not many can say they killed a faceless man, let alone it being their first." I said with a smirk.
Gael looked queasy, but with a fake brave smile, she collected Blackfyre from me and looked upon the emotionless eyes of the faceless man before stabbing him in the heart.
Dragonstone, the Seat of the Heir to the Seven Kingdoms.
The island sits in Blackwater Bay, off the southeastern coast of Westeros. Though relatively small, it is famed for its jagged cliffs and dark, dragon-shaped stone formations that rise ominously from the sea. The castle, built from the same dark stone, carries a foreboding presence. Its architecture is both defensive and functional—strong walls, high towers, and looming battlements.
In a dark chamber beneath the castle proper, near the sea line, King Jaehaerys was holding a meeting. The grand hall above, adorned with Targaryen motifs, gold accents, and an array of weapons, concealed this hidden room. Constructed originally by the First Men and later enhanced by the Valyrians with the mysterious black dragonstone, the chamber was unknown to all present—except the King. Everyone except the king looked around in wonder and curiosity.
"Your Grace, what is this place? Why am I seeing this for the first time?" asked Archmaester Vaegon. "There is no mention of this chamber in the Citadel or in the education you provided me."
"Yes, King Jaehaerys, please enlighten us all. Even I know nothing of this. And why have you summoned the entire family here?" Queen Alysanne snapped.
Prince Daemon, Viserys, Aegon, Rhaenys, Vaegon, Aemma, and Corlys Velaryon were stunned seeing that even the famously united royal couple seemed to hold secrets from each other.
"Yes, tell us your grace, why it was necessary for me to act as a mule." Daemon recovered quickly from the surprise and snapped at his frail grandfather. Daemon wondered how his grandfather would reply. Daemon had landed at Dragonstone with Lyanna and Vaegon. The king had summoned his great-granddaughter for a private meeting—Daemon knew that meant the King had learned the truth. Even Rhaenys had unknowingly served as a mule, transporting the Queen and Viserys, while the King flew with Aemma and Aegon.
Then Daemon's eyes widened as he noticed one other fact. He looked at both his grandparents and he couldn't see the tiredness and the weariness of old age. They both looked more energetic and not like they were near at death's door, especially his grandmother. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered a conversation in Winterfell.
"Boy, we're having this conversation in Winterfell because of Daemon Snow. Your father came to me, begging for a way to save your younger brother. He offered anything. In return, I asked for a royal marriage."
"Don't think Daemon won't do it again. He'll bargain with other lords too. Everyone will beg for his healing, and he can prove it, right in front of them."
Is the King compromised? Daemon thought. He had always known the Queen was the King's greatest love, and now she looked better than she had in years.
Daemon's thoughts broke as King Jaehaerys sighed loudly; the king's face briefly showed an image of absolute tiredness before taking on a visage never seen by the rest of the members, not even by his beloved sister-wife. It was the face of a man finally glad to be rid of the 'wise king' mask he had worn his entire adult life, displaying the weariness of untold burdens carried, along with a touch of madness that every great man possessed and would continue to possess.
"Daemon, you ungrateful fool of a child," the King snapped. "The next time you snap at me today will be the last time you speak in your life. When I order something, you will obey. If I order you to burn the filth in Flea Bottom with Caraxes, you will obey. If I tell you to shave my beard using Dark Sister, you will do it without drawing a drop of blood. If I ask you to fly someone to me from the other side of the world, you will do it. Everything in your life has been my generosity and my gift to you — your name, your dragon, your sword, and your life. You shall show me the respect and fear that is owed to me. No one here should speak unless I specifically ask them to. Today, it is for me to speak and decide while you all obey," the King finished calmly with a smile, and that caused a chill down the spines of even the Rogue Prince.
Everyone, including the Queen, was flabbergasted by the surety and calmness with which the threat was uttered. They had seen the King in many moods, but this was something extraordinary, and even the ever-prideful Daemon was frightened for the first time in his life, despite the fact that the old King should not have the strength to remove his tongue personally, and all the Kingsguard were in the castle proper.
Viserys, frightened, began to reach out to stop the rant Daemon was about to spew but was surprised to see Daemon nodding slowly with a frightened expression.
"Well, wonders will never cease, my grandson. It seems that the only way to make you obey was this. We should have done this ages ago," the Queen replied mirthfully.
The King ignored his wife's barb for the moment.
"I gathered you all here to inform you of the latest tidings of House Targaryen and many secrets. Some time ago at night, my chamber was visited by my first grandson, Daemon Snow, with no one being the wiser. He told me that he climbed the cliffs to the Red Keep, an impossible task in daylight for a normal person, which I thought was a lie, but later I was forced to believe because of the things discussed."
Everyone's face showed disbelief, but no one dared to speak or ask questions. The King continued, "My grandson chose to thank me for allowing him to grow his powers without any disturbance in the North, and he was here for his birthright. He told me that he had come South to tame a dragon and marry a dragon, which he had already done. He told me that he tamed the Cannibal and married, in the Valyrian and First Men way, my youngest daughter, Princess Gael."
"What?!" the Queen exclaimed. "You lost my Gael to him? Gael married to a bastard and you allowed the bastard to escape? Where is my daughter, brother?"
"No! Impossible! Cannibal cannot be tamed!" Daemon exclaimed.
The King was expecting the interruption. "Oh, shut up, both of you. We are not here to discuss the antics of my grandson," the King said with a wave of his hand, an almost proud gleam in his eyes.
"What? You are proud of the half-breed bastard? Why did you allow this travesty against our pure Valyrian blood? First, you deny me Gael's hand in marriage and then sold me that bronze bitch in her place. Now you take his healing potion in exchange for Gael and a dragon? This is fucking ridiculous," Daemon said angrily.
"Daemon, I will forgive this outburst as I am at fault for your misconceptions regarding Valyrian blood and power. It was I who decided to hide our magic from all members of the family except those with talent in the arcane, to conform to our subjects' beliefs. It was I who decided to bury the history of fire and blood in this chamber. It was I who chose to never teach my sons, my heirs, the magic and history of Great Valyria that I learned right here in this very chamber at the knees of King Maegor Targaryen, the cruel rider of Balerion the Black Dread," the King said in a wistful voice, his eyes unfocused, seeing the past.
An eerie chill descended the spines of everyone who heard the King speak of Maegor without hatred for the first time in their lives. None of them ever thought they would hear the old King speak kindly of the uncle he was said to hate with a legendary passion.
"Let me tell you what happened during Daemon's visit and the matters we discussed, before I speak of ancient history," the King interrupted everyone who was about to protest.
After the retelling, silence. Absolute silence descended upon hearing the powers of Daemon Snow—their bastard grandson, brother, and cousin. They could not disbelieve the tale, as the proof was the King himself and even the Queen, who now stood far more lively than what should be possible.
"But he is a half-breed with a wildling from the North. How does he have this power when we do not? Grandfather, tell us how," surprisingly it was Aegon who asked, not Daemon.
Even Rhaenys nodded at the question while everyone took time to process the news.
"Yes, please reveal that too, your grace."
The King took a drink from his pitcher and looked at his granddaughter with a sad smile. "Ah, Rhaenys, my dear granddaughter. Valyria is the most powerful empire the world had ever seen. It had Magic like none other. The tales speak of our magic, but it was not only ours. There was a reason the Valyrians never invaded Westeros. The ancient tales of the Children of the Forest, Giants, the Greenseers, and men who walk in animal skins were known to Valyrians even then. The greatest strength of Valyria was dragons, creatures of immense power. Our ancestors knew that starting a fight when the enemy's strength is unknown is utter folly. That is why they never ventured west. Why start a war with a distant enemy when you can trade if needed?"
"My grandson is the son of a dragon and of a house that ruled half of this continent for eight thousand years—House Stark. A house that, according to legend, married daughters of many magical houses by defeating them and taking their fealty. Their founder is so renowned that even after eight thousand years, his name and works still endure. Brandon the Builder. The Wall, Winterfell, Storm's End, and even the base of the Hightower—though weakened—all have magical protections I detected when I visited. It seems that the mixing of two of the most powerful bloodlines has produced exceptional results."
Everyone looked at the King as if seeing him for the first time. Even Alysanne, the lifelong companion of the King, had not known that Jaehaerys practiced sorcery.
"Why?" came the barely restrained, rage-filled voice of Daemon. "Why did you do it? Earlier, you said everything I have was your gift—my dragon, my name, my sword. Then why? Why did you deny us the greatest gift of them all? Magic."
The old King looked at the members of his family with sad eyes, and saw Corlys trying to almost vanish by not even blinking.
The King smirked and said, "Why do you ask? It is a long tale. The true story behind the whitewashed lies of the sons of the Conqueror. I will tell you. But before that, Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, why are you silent? No snide comments about lost thrones? No talk of betrayal of the laws of succession laid down by gods and men? You have not spoken a word because you know today is different. Do you not? You are wise enough to know you will lose your tongue if you disobey my first command today. You may speak now."
Everyone was stunned. They had forgotten the ever-prideful Sea Snake was even present.
"Yes, Your Grace. I knew you would follow through. I can see it in your eyes. That order was especially for me," Corlys said calmly in a respectful voice.
The old King laughed and said, "Yes, as usual, the Velaryons have always been good at saving their lives."
"Your Grace?" Corlys asked hesitantly.
The King ignored the question and looked around the room. He could see that his family still stood divided, invisible lines drawn. He looked at Rhaenys and saw the hidden disdain in her eyes. Even now, with a rogue dragonrider bonded to one of the most dangerous dragons and wielding otherworldly powers beyond their control, his family could not see beyond their egos and petty grievances. Jaehaerys looked at Viserys who atleast remained calm and listened intently unlike Rhaenys who is still trying to kill him with staring if possible.
'Why the fuck did I sacrifice so much for the end results to be this. I should atleast try one more time to salvage what I can.' The king decided as he looked at his granddaughter and his own heir Viserys.
"Rhaenys, my child, tell me, why do you think I displaced you as my heir?" the King asked.
"I think it was because I am a woman, and the lords would never accept it. They may rebel after my ascension. Even though you gave power to your Queen, the years spent with a septon made you see women as weak. The other reason is Corlys and his rise," Rhaenys answered, glancing at her husband.
"Oh, you sweet summer child," the King said mockingly. "That is absolute nonsense. You being a woman was never the reason. Nor was it because you married Corlys. You lost your place as my heir when you chose to marry a Velaryon. It does not matter if you had married Corlys, his brother, his father, or even my uncle Daemon when he was alive. The house was the problem, not an upjumped sailor who thinks himself equal to a Dragonlord in his foolish pride."
Everyone was stunned by the sheer rage in Jaehaerys's voice at the end.
"Corlys, tell me the truth. Do you think I was jealous of your rise? Envious of your success? Your wealth? Speak truthfully; there will be no consequence," the King asked after taking a deep breath to calm himself.
Corlys looked uneasy but answered truthfully, "Yes, Your Grace."
King Jaehaerys snorted and began to laugh slowly. The laughter stretched on, and everyone else looked at him as if they were witnessing a madman.
After a few minutes, the laughter subsided, though mirth remained in his voice as he said mockingly, "Corlys, my kinsman, you have nothing I value. Whatever you built in your life, I could destroy it in a single afternoon, and all it would take is a single word:
"Dracarys."
the King finished menacingly, and a terrifying growl rumbled from the darkness that was the end of the opposite side of the great hall from where they entered the castle.
Everyone stiffened at the sound of the Bronze Fury and were stunned to see his head emerging from the shadows.
"Ah, you see, the entrance from the seaside, hidden in the mountains," the King said.
"Lykiri, Vermithor," the King called softly to his dragon.
"Let me continue. You are nothing compared to House Targaryen, Corlys. It was never about you. When I heard your claims in court—that you were the second most powerful house—it always made me laugh. A couple of ships, some liquid gold, and a small city and island do not make you equal to a Dragonlord. If there is a second house in this forsaken kingdom, it is House Stark. Magical and enduring longer than both of our lines. Anyway, Corlys, I did not hate you for your success or wealth. I hated you because you carry the same ambition and greed in your eyes as my damned mother, Alysa Velaryon, and my uncle Daemon Velaryon," the old King finished, his voice filled with more hatred than anyone present had ever heard, even when he spoke of Maegor.
"Jaehaerys!" the Queen shouted. "What is this? That is our mother. She is..."
"Oh, stop it, Alysanne. I am sorry. I never told you the truth. I wanted to protect you, my dear. Everyone believes I hate my uncle Maegor most for killing my brothers and usurping the Iron Throne, but the truth is that hatred died with him. Since that day, there has only been sadness, pity, and respect," the King said.
Everyone was stunned. It was as if the sun had risen in the west and set in the east. No one could speak until Daemon finally broke the silence.
"You know the reason Maegor spared your life and did not make Storm's End a new Harrenhal. The maesters say he knew he would be defeated because you had three dragons on your side. But at that time, Vermithor, Silverwing, and Dreamfyre were nothing compared to the Black Dread."
King Jaehaerys smiled proudly at Daemon and answered.
"Yes, my child. You are sharp and quick to understand. Whatever your shortcomings, at least you are a true Dragonlord, Daemon. In the past fifty years, no one has asked me this question—not other dragonriders, not even those who rode the Black Dread himself."
Daemon's heart burst with joy at the proud smile from the old King, while Viserys was suddenly filled with shame, realizing he was the last rider of Balerion and had never even considered such thoughts.
"The reason I harbor resentment towards my mother is that she was responsible for the deaths of my elder brothers, including King Aenys, to some extent. As you all know, King Aenys was the firstborn son of the Conqueror, but Maegor took precedence in primogeniture. Maegor was the son of the firstborn daughter, Queen Visenya, and the second-born, King Aegon. Queen Rhaenys, the third daughter, was the mother of Aenys. For centuries, our house followed primogeniture, which is why Dragonstone belonged to Queen Visenya, and Maegor became the Prince of Dragonstone. However, my Velaryon family conspired with the Faith and Andal lords, and they wanted Aenys as heir, following the accursed Andal custom of favoring the firstborn son of the male line. My grandfather Aegon, in his love for Rhaenys and in his grief over her death, agreed to it. Visenya was furious, and to avoid bloodshed, they made an agreement: Aenys would become King, but after him, it would be Maegor and his line. This arrangement was well known within the family. Maegor was supposed to marry my elder sister so that the lines would be united at last.
It was during this time that I was fostered under Maegor and Visenya. They educated me in ancient valyrian history, sorcery, and other valuable subjects. Aenys, being the weak man he was, showed no talent and had declined in his youth. However, after becoming King, Aenys succumbed to pressure from my mother's will to marry Aegon and Rhaena, changed the agreement with Visenya, and eventually fell victim to the treachery and rebellion of the Faith. You all know the rest. Maegor was crowned King by Visenya and fought the rebellion of the Faith when my fool of a brother rose in rebellion because of my scheming mother and uncle, who aspired for power.
Viserys was left speechless as he understood the depth of it. As the current heir and by ancient custom, the position rightfully belonged to Rhaenys.
Vaegon looked at his niece with pity and said, "I am sorry. You were never going to win, even if all the lords voted for you, Rhaenys."
Rhaenys turned sharply to the King, her expression angry.
"I am sorry, Rhaenys. You lost my heirship when you married the damned Velaryons. I would never allow them near my throne while I breathe. I did not object to Aemon allowing you to marry Corlys or even remain his heir, only because I thought the possibility of you becoming first in line for the throne would happen far in the future, when I would be long dead and no longer care."
"Why, Your Grace? Was your mother not doing what every lady does? In this kingdom, the firstborn son is the usual heir. Why do you harbor such hatred for her simply following what has been tradition for millenia?" Corlys asked slowly.
"Normal, you say? At last, the hypocrisy is laid bare. I have heard you boast about the Velaryons being in Valyria even before us Targaryens, proud of being Valyrian in this kingdom and claiming to follow the old ways. And I had heard the same thing long before you were even born. Then hear this, Corlys : in Valyria, there was no concept of elder or younger, only power and those too weak to seek it. Lords were chosen by magical power and the power of the dragon, mainly the heat of fire and the victories the dragon had. Of course, the current lord would make sure his firstborn had all the knowledge and privileges to be the strongest, but it was not unheard of for even bastards to try their luck and claim greater dragons. In that sense, I should make your brother-in-law my heir—my grandson, Daemon Snow. He has proven himself in the old Valyrian way."
"What?" Viserys and Rhaenys shouted in disbelief.
"Yes, he is eligible. Bastardy has no place in the Valyrian way, only power. Even now, he is the strongest as he is bonded with the Cannibal, no Morghul. Even with Vermithor, Caraxes, and Melys, we cannot defeat him, even with Vhagar there is only a chance. His healing power is too unpredictable and we don't know it's limit."
"What do you mean? Cannibal is special?" Daemon asked again, stupefied. The King noted the surprising lack of denial or protest from Rhaenys at the suggestion that Snow and Morghul could defeat all three dragons.
"Morghul is special. Dragons are descended from the Fourteen Elder Dragons that we once worshipped as gods. They spoke, had magical powers, blessed us, mingled with us, bred with us, and taught us sorcery. Morghul is one-quarter Elder Dragon, which was very rare even a hundred years before the Doom. Our dragons are only legacies. Only Balerion was also a quarter Elder Dragon and descended from Balerion himself, which made him more powerful. They made a pact when they landed here all those years ago. That is the only reason Cannibal did not kill us all and eat us. Now, he is bonded to a powerful sorcerer—a monster in human skin."
No one knew what to say to that. Every plan Daemon had in his mind to recover Blackfyre and Princess Gael was halted. Alysanne looked as if she had swallowed a lemon, struck silent by the knowledge that had almost changed her entire life. She tried to recall her earliest memories, wondering if there had been talk of a marriage between Maegor and her sister Rhaena, but she could remember nothing.
Viserys was devastated. Until yesterday, he had been the second most powerful man in the kingdom. Only the King and Queen could order him. He had been raised in the Valyrian gods but gave lip service to the Faith. Now, he did not know what to believe. Viserys loved Valyrian history and customs. He had been proud to have won a council like those held in Valyria, even if the voters were far lesser in status than in the Freehold. Now, his sword was stolen by his elder cousin, and unknowingly, his elder cousin's position had been stolen by him.
"That is not a good thing to say about me, Grandsire." A northern-accented voice echoed from the far end of the hall, where Vermithor was lying. A handsome man, appearing only in his early twenties though he should be far older, walked out from the shadows with a mocking smile on his face. His hair was split into two colors: raven black on one side and pale silver on the other, the same as Prince Aemon's. His eyes were heterochromatic, filled with bound power—one stark grey and the other Targaryen violet, nearly black. The hilt of Blackfyre was visible at his belt and was recognized by all.
"I am not a monster, and I assure you I am one hundred percent human, with all parts intact. You can ask my dear wife, Princess Gael, if you doubt it," he finished with a lecherous, mocking grin toward Queen Alysanne.
Fury shone on the Queen's face. "You bastard, where is my pure, innocent daughter? What have you done to her?"
"Alysanne," the King immediately warned.
"Nothing she has not asked for, Grandmother. If you know what I mean," Daemon finished with a smirk.
"Daemon, must you be so crass and provoke my wife? Stop it. Remember, you are standing in front of Vermithor, and I do not know how he even let you pass through the entrance."
"Oh, Grandfather, Vermithor is not mad enough to attack me when I smell of fire and blood and Morghul—and more importantly, when he is in front of Morghul, who is resting just outside the entrance."
Vaegon snorted at the exchange.
"So, continue the history lesson. I am very curious. What is the real reason for your hatred of the Velaryons? As Corlys said, this is not enough reason for such deep hatred."
"The reason, you ask?" The King turned toward Corlys and continued. "It was my mother who made Aegon rebel. It was my mother who kidnapped Alysanne and me from Dragonstone when there was no reason to leave, just so she could consort with Rogar Baratheon. Our lives were never in danger. It was that elopement that made Maegor go after my sweet brother Viserys. Viserys almost escaped King's Landing, but it was my uncle Daemon who betrayed his nephew to Maegor for a position at court. The traitor. It was Daemon's men who tortured him. The Kinslayer."
Alysanne looked at her husband in shock. "Jae, what are you saying? Mother saved us from Maegor. He would have killed us."
Jaehaerys looked at his wife with pity. "No, my love. Our lives were not in danger. I made sure of that. How could he have harmed us when I was his heir and you were my future wife? Our union was the only method to ensure the continuation of House Targaryen. Maegor would not have touched us. But Mother and her Baratheon lover ruined everything and never took me seriously. I should have gotten rid of Rogar Baratheon."
"How, Grandsire? How did you make sure you and Alysanne were the only Targaryens capable of bearing children? Maegor was mad with power, and now you say he cared for House Targaryen?" Viserys asked.
The King looked around at the people gathered, all expectantly waiting. He knew there was no other path but to reveal the whole truth, to move forward and secure their future.
The king walked toward the bookshelf and opened a hidden alcove. A letter fell into his hand. He looked at the letter with desperation and lifted his hand to show the broken three-headed dragon seal.
"You were told that my elder sister Rhaena escaped King's Landing and arrived to support me. That is not the truth. No one could escape Maegor's paranoia and vigilance. But seeing the reality of the realm, he let Rhaena leave with a letter written only to me, with explicit instructions. Rhaena was to deliver it secretly and follow my commands, or he would kill Aerea, who was held as hostage. Only the gods, Uncle Maegor, and I knew the contents of this letter. Now you will all know. I am sorry, Alysanne. I hope you will forgive me in the afterlife, for I know you will not forgive me in the rest of my life. But understand this—whatever I did, I did for our survival, for our life, and for House Targaryen."
Everyone was astonished by the heartfelt apology and the stone-cold will that had made such decisions long ago. A king's burden in the pursuit of greatness.
Vaegon stepped forward to read the letter and said, "It is written in High Valyrian."
"To,
Prince Jaehaerys Targaryan.
Dragonlord.
Prince of Dragonstone
Heir to the Iron Throne.
Jaehaerys,
Son, know that I am proud of you. You were always my favorite among the children. I saw myself and the Conqueror in you the moment you started talking. I saw the future of House Targaryen secured in you.
Know that I taught you everything of sorcery, knowledge of our roots, warfare, and politics. I saw that you have grasped it excellently by the curse you placed on me, the curse to save yourself and your favorite sister from my wrath. The curse that made it so I could never have children again. It was an exquisite move, son. The moment I understood it, you became my heir, as it would take a male to unite this realm as of now. Females would be exploited by the lords and used. I wonder how many of your future children you sacrificed for my curse, after all I tried many, many times, a revenge if you look at it that way, even though my seed was weaker after the resurrection ritual after the trial of the seven.
Know that magical protection of Storm's End would have failed if I cared enough to try. You should have stayed in the North. It would be hard to find you, and Winterfell may have enough magical protection left to let you escape Balerion's wrath or maybe you could have defeated me with whatever knowledge and magical knickknacks the Starks have been hiding for the last eight millennia.
Know that I avenged my brother, my king. I broke the filthy Faith that made it possible to spill the blood of a drake. I left them so broken that whatever conditions you have, they would accept. My only regret is I didn't burn down the Hightower and Oldtown and destroy the power of Faith root and stem, but I couldn't break the promise given to my first wife, Ceryse Hightower. Whatever else I am, I am not an oathbreaker.
I suggest you break them further and permanently shackle the Faith. Remove their influence; you know the way.
My parents broke the great houses' fighting spirit and established our house. My brother, weak as he may have been, established the fealty and loyalty of the Great Lords. The Faith tried to establish their hatred for magic and their power over the smallfolk; I have broken that institution.
I terrified the lords and the people so completely that they will call you the greatest king of our line for centuries. You will conquer the people's loyalty and heart. They will not trouble you and will follow you for at least many years, fearfully. It will be enough to make the love and fealty for the royal house a part of their very lives. The old generation will die, and House Targaryen will remain supreme.
I killed thousands so that they will forget the old kings and their lines. The only trouble for your line will come in the form of assassination. So I have created a holdfast in the Red Keep, every secret passage designed and made by Valyrian techniques. No one can access it other than you; you know where the plans will be.
Burn the Aegon's knife and read the message. A message passed from the King to the Heir. The story is written in Aegon's diary in the secret hall. Now, on the next moon, you shall declare your rebellion; you will send ravens, and the lords will flock to your banner as you have three dragons, the fools. I shall not make a move. You will march toward King's Landing. As you reach here, I will give you the greatest gift. I will make a final sacrifice in fire and blood for House Targaryen. I will kill myself on the Iron Throne and enact the ritual to gift 50 years of Kings Reign for you. For House Targaryen. Use it well.
Marry your sister Alysanne. Let my brother's line continue with mine as it should be.
If it's not clear till now, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, you are my blood. You are my son. I made sure of it, even though the bitch drank moon tea. After all you know the ritual, don't you, my son.
Proudly,
Your Father,
Dragonlord Maegor Targaryen the Cruel
Rider of Balerion The Black Dread
King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms
Protector of the Realm
Authors note: yeah that happened… something I have not seen in any fics till now. also something that makes sense why Maegor a mad man would ever allow threats to remain alive… also I had tried to hint something of this line from the very beginning and in all chapters in kingslanding.. also the reason there was no Jaehaerys pov till now/.. as he would think the truth and I couldn't just write without ever mentioning this in Jaehaerys pov.
So what do u think ? surprised?
How is the meeting and we have still another 5k words left. the dragonstone and next chapter has been written a year ago and the daemon targ pov and daemon snow pov in the beginning is the new addition.
Also a long chapter as I really wanted to end the chapter with this letter no matter what.
See u in chapter 40 : The Bastard King.
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