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123 AC, Harrenhal
Aemond Targaryen blinked as he opened his eyes, feeling oddly well-rested, but his body was entirely too sore. It was as if he had gotten to bed after a particularly intense spar with Ser Criston. It was a shame that he hadn't had a proper spar since he went to Dragonstone with his father, alongside his mother, Aegon and Helaena.
Although a few weeks without Aegon were blissfully quiet, without any whores appearing in their wing of the Red Keep. Aemond dreaded the days when Aegon would be king and what would happen to the realm. His grandfather obviously wished to stay as Hand and rule the realm in everything but name during his brother's reign, but Otto Hightower was old, and he would die eventually, and the realm would die with him.
Of course, that didn't matter in any way, given that the King was still foolishly insistent for Rhaenyra to rule despite the whore's many scandals, all but ensuring that a bloody war would decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms, and in war, there were very few certainties, and Aemond played a part in it.
It was ironic how much respect he gained for claiming Vhagar, slowly rising from a weak child to someone to be feared and admired. His grandfather had insisted that he'd double his martial training, turning him into a warrior at his brother's call, much like Daemon was to the king.
He found himself loving it, the battle, the blood, where he could show the entire world his rage, the hate towards everyone, his father, who had let his maiming be unpunished, his brother who had done nothing but taunt him for most of his life, giving him one insult after another, his mother who always took his side, as the future king.
It was hard not to hate them all, for everyone lived for themselves, to achieve their own goals, uncaring of the world around them. Only Helaena seemed to truly care for him, and he, in turn, was the only one who tried to understand her, to see the meaning beneath her obscure words, and she was surprisingly insightful about many things. If only Mother could finally hear her.
Aemond felt a strange kinship with her. They were two souls that no one wished to hear, stuck in the machinations far beyond them, suffering for their father's neglect and their grandfather's ambition. She was wasted on Aegon, who didn't even appreciate her in any way. Aemond hoped that having children would bring her some joy, but he wasn't sure. She was always a melancholic soul.
And yet, he still suffered under his grandfather's command, having been asked to fly to Harrenhal and give a letter to some bastard woman in the supposedly cursed fortress. He, a prince of the blood, who rode the largest dragon in the world, was tasked to act like an overgrown raven for his grandfather.
If that wasn't proof of how little his family thought of him, he wasn't sure what would be.
Still, he had done his duty and flew to Harrenhal…
Aemond struggled to remember what happened afterwards. He remembered Vhagar acting oddly, then landing without his command. The Queen of the Skies, the great green beast that Queen Visenya, herself, rode, deserved her titles. Aemond found that trying to get her to obey wasn't difficult, but she often made decisions of her own without his input, which was sometimes irritating.
He hadn't heard of Laena Velaryon having this issue with her, but he also didn't think that the Sea Snake would ever admit that his daughter didn't fully control her dragon, especially given the hostility with the crown at the time and the fact that it was Vhagar that made them such a great threat in the first place.
Nevertheless, Vhagar had decided to land on her own, and that landing was sluggish. For all of her size, the Green Beast knew exactly how much force to exert when she wished, likely after decades of practice flying in and out of King's Landing or Driftmark.
She had never landed this way, not ever. And then Aemond climbed down…
What did happen after that? He remembered feeling tired, and that was all.
Realising what had happened, the young prince sat up abruptly and looked around in panic. He turned, expecting chains or swords, only to freeze as he saw a man calmly tending to a hearth in the middle of the night.
Aemond instinctively palmed his sword and was surprised to see it still there, in its sheath. He slowly unsheathed it, while the man's back was turning, ready to demand answers, only for a voice to speak up, "It's nice to see you up, kid. You've certainly had a nice nap. Why don't you come sit down? It's getting cold."
The man turned, and Aemond saw a normal man with black hair and green eyes, completely unarmed. He looked normal, like a peasant, only that his clothes looked to be very well-made. It wasn't odd to see merchants wear overly embroidered clothes, hoping to appear wealthier than they were. In fact, it was a common tactic in King's Landing, a way to make nobles more at ease with them. The opposite, having peasant clothes with obviously good materials, wasn't something that he'd seen before, and Aemond couldn't help but grow curious about the man before him.
Still, the stranger was thin, his hands looking too soft to have trained with the sword, and he was also unarmed. He wasn't a threat, at least not to him. Given the fact that he let him keep his sword and hadn't killed him in his sleep, he didn't deem him an enemy, not yet anyway.
He sheathed his sword and hesitantly sat down on a log near the fire. "Who are you?"
"Isn't it more courteous for people to introduce themselves first?" the man responded with amusement.
"You know who I am," Aemond responded while gritting his teeth. After all, his Valyrian colouring and eyepatch should have been enough for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms to recognise it.
"Do I?" the stranger responded, while raising an eyebrow, and refusing to say anything.
Releasing a sigh and knowing that he wouldn't get anywhere without introducing himself, he spoke up, "My name is Aemond Targaryen, second son of Viserys Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
The man smiled at him and replied, "I'm Harry."
Aemond waited for the man to say anything else, but he simply turned back towards the fire, completely ignoring him. He took out a stick and put some strange white thing near the end, and then put it near the fire, likely to cook it. He didn't know much of peasant food, so he decided to ignore it and instead ask the question that was brewing in the back of his mind since he woke up, "Where is Vhagar?"
Harry turned towards him, tilting his head in confusion, and Aemond gritted his teeth, "My dragon."
"Oh, the big green one. It flew away a while ago, probably to hunt or something."
The young prince took a deep breath and searched for his bond with Vhagar, easily meeting the ancient mind of the dragon. He relaxed as he felt her acknowledge him, knowing that his dragon wasn't injured in any way, not that she ever could be. After all, Vhagar was the largest dragon in the world, the Queen of the skies. Still, her behaviour when she landed had worried him slightly, but that must have been some kind of accident.
Feeling the tension lift slightly from his shoulders, he relaxed slightly. Harry handed him the stick with the white stuff on it and gave it to him, "You look like you need to eat."
Aemond looked at the white thing in disgust, wishing to refuse the peasant food that was provided for him. However, he did feel hungry, and the man could have easily killed him, so the possibility of poison wasn't significant. In fact, he was more likely to get poisoned in the Red Keep.
He stifled a chuckle at that and took a cautious bite out of the white sticky substance, only for his eyes to widen at the sweet taste that met his lips. It was absolutely delicious, like eating a sweet cloud somehow. "What is this?"
"A Marshmallow. Nice, huh? Surprisingly simple ingredients, just water, sugar, and gelatine."
Aemond didn't know what gelatine was, but he knew that sugar was expensive. The high-quality clothes and the expensive food deepened the mystery of the man. Yet, he had better priorities than the mysterious man before him.
He needed to come to Harrenhal, at least to recover in a normal castle, and he would ensure that Harry was rewarded for his service. Perhaps Aemond would even take him as a servant, a very honourable post and a very nice one as well, an improvement from whatever he tried to do.
Having decided that he could trust Harry a bit more, he spoke up, "Escort me to Harrenhal. You will be suitably rewarded when we arrive there."
The older man rolled his eyes at his tone, a clear sign of disrespect that made Aemond rage, "Sure, kid. It shouldn't take that long."
The man threw away the stick and quickly stifled the campfire before standing up and speaking up, "Follow along."
They walked for a few minutes in complete silence before Aemond couldn't help but couldn't resist speaking up, "You're not a lowborn, are you?"
"What makes you say that?" Harry replied jokingly.
"You speak too clearly. Your clothes are too fine. You are too clean and have been eating a small fortune in sugar if what you said about these mashed mallows was correct. So, who are you?"
"You're clever for a young man your age. I'm just a traveller, wondering about, trying to see the world. People get so attached to a single piece of land and stay there, choosing to close their eyes to the rest of the world."
Aemond rolled his eyes, "Most do not have a small fortune to waste on whims and adventure."
"Perhaps. I was born luckier than most, in a way, with enough gold to live comfortably, gold that I grew in my younger years, and now can spend how I wish when travelling. I haven't regretted a single spent coin yet, for every day, I learn something new about the world. What about you, Aemond Targaryen? What do you desire?"
The young prince found himself stuck there for a few moments before shaking his head, trying to stave off his rising bitterness, "I'm a prince. What I desire has no bearing on my fate."
"Nobility often comes with chains of its own, royalty most of all," Harry replied, and Aemond couldn't help but nod along, "but power nullifies all of this. You ride the greatest dragon in the land, and you're smart enough to understand how much freedom that gives you, if you play your cards right. So, ignoring your status as a prince, ignoring your duties for just a moment, what would you have liked to do? What do you desire?"
Aemond found himself unable to answer this question despite how simple it should have been. What did he desire? He wished to master the sword despite his lost eye. He wished to be the greatest Dragonrider in the world. But wasn't he already the rider of the most powerful dragon? Wasn't he making strides as a swordsman, defeating squires who were older than him?
He would only admit it to himself, but Aemond wasn't particularly happy with the idea of becoming his brother's attack dog, a weapon to aim at his enemies. Or more accurately, their grandfather's enemies.
He didn't wish to be King. He would make a far better one than Aegon, of course, but then again, most people would as well. No, he didn't relish the idea of sitting on council tables, trying to end lords' squabbling endlessly, even if he would do it if it were his duty.
The only true desire, one that was his own, was to see the Strong bastards be humiliated throughout the realm, losing their whore mother's protections, and finally living as the bastards that they were. It wouldn't likely happen unless he wished to start a war, but the idea that one of them would sit on the Iron Throne, the seat of the Conqueror himself, made his blood boil.
"I have a goal," Aemond replied, with passion in his voice.
Harry rolled his eyes, "Revenge against the boy who took your eye, if I'm guessing."
"They're bastards, all of them are. And yet half of the realm is blind."
"Oh, they're not blind. The realm won't acknowledge a known bastard as their king, especially with a trueborn younger brother being mixed in. You won't have to do much to ruin them. In a way, they've been on this path since the moment they were born, a product of their mother's actions."
Aemond thought of it and knew that it made sense. Daemon's sons were trueborn, if the rumours were correct. That meant that the realm would rally behind them and against the Strong bastards. Their whore mother's actions had all but set it up, much like her father and Aemond's grandfather had set up the inevitable war between the Greens and the Blacks.
He couldn't help but feel vindicated at the idea that even if Rhaenyra were victorious, her children would war against one another because of her actions. However, that didn't mean that Aemond wouldn't have liked taking an eye from each of them as recompense.
Harry's voice broke his musings, "Ah, revenge. Oddly enough, a very common desire to have, even if it often ends in tragedy rather than not. Tell me, young Aemond, if I could do it, would you have agreed that I heal your eye?"
Aemond froze at that. He had never entertained the thought of his eye returning. It was impossible, so why would he waste his time dreaming of it? However, his father's miraculous recovery challenged much of what he thought was possible. Flesh had regrown in seconds, and thinking of it, he couldn't help but think if it was possible for his eye to do the same.
Oddly enough, he didn't feel elated by the possibility, "No. It would change nothing."
Harry didn't press him. He just nodded once and kept walking.
"I lost the eye because I claimed Vhagar. It was the price. Taking it back would feel like cheating the cost. Besides," Aemond paused, voice colder, "I don't regret the trade."
The older man gave a neutral hum, as if neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and instead commented, "So, you wish vengeance for something that you would not have returned, for an action that you would not see undone? Curious."
Aemond gritted his teeth at the older man, obviously judging him, "If you have something to say, then speak your mind."
"I cannot say much, for words will not quench the rage inside you. You're right to be angry at the boys who harmed you, at your family that did not protect you, and at the king for taking your sister's side. However, to make this your life's goal, your greatest desire, to hurt people who failed you, only gives the power over you. Find something that you truly love, outside of your family, revenge, or duty, and never let it go. Try to discover your secrets as a Dragonlord, learn a trade, understand the world before you hate it, so that when the fire of your fury is finally out, you will have something more than the emptiness that awaits you. Something to remember, kid. We're here."
The young prince wished to reply, only to freeze completely as he saw nothing more than a ruin being illuminated by the moon in the night's sky. He opened his mouth before closing it once more, "Seven Hells! What happened?"
"There was a golden light in the middle of the sky, something like a second sun, then a loud sound, that was all that was left of it. The villagers around refused to approach, calling it an act of the gods for the abomination that Harrenhal became."
An act of the gods…
Normally, Aemond would have scoffed in disdain at these words, but there was no other way to describe this. Harrenhal, which had fallen to Balerion the Black Dread but still remained standing, had become nothing more than dust and rubble. A golden light could be the sign of another Dragonrider destroying it, but Aemond couldn't see any sign of dragon fire. The stone didn't look melted, just destroyed.
Still, one of Harry's words stood out to him: "Why call Harrenhal an abomination?"
"Nothing much. The villagers warned me away from it, saying that in the last few weeks, everyone who ever entered never left. After more people disappeared, they were planning on appealing to other lords nearby, even going to Riverrun, not that it matters now."
Aemond knew from his grandfather that the woman he was meant to meet was some kind of woods witch, which he had planned on using as a way to combat the sorcerer in Dragonstone, who Rhaenyra had enlisted to her cause. His reason for asking Aemond was that dragons were known deterrents of magic users in Essos since the days of the Valyrian Freehold.
He had dismissed his words as nonsense, but had done his duty, even if his duty was to deliver a scroll to a bastard woman who would probably collect herbs and proclaim to speak to the gods. He had even expected the Strongs to mock him for his desire, but what happened to Harrenhal stunk of sorcery, and the presumed villagers' account didn't help in any way.
It made sense now why Vhagar had felt so weak, why they had crashed, and why Aemond had fallen unconscious. Magic was involved, and it had even affected Vhagar. The idea terrified him to his core.
The young prince didn't know what to do now. He never imagined Harrenhal falling like it had or falling under some kind of spell. He didn't know what else to ask Harry if he knew anything. Still, he realised that he needed to return to the Capital. His grandfather would need to know this.
Aemond mentally summoned Vhagar, and the hulking beast landed with a loud thud, for some reason, being very aggressive towards Harry, who didn't seem concerned by the dragon's hostility. Through their bond, he could feel the wariness, respect, and even some fear directed at the unarmed man next to him. Suddenly, he slowly started to piece everything together, "You're the sorcerer, the man from Dragonstone."
Harry smiled gently at him but didn't answer.
The young prince practically growled and spoke up, "What did you do to me? You put me and Vhagar under a spell."
The sorcerer rolled his eyes, "No, I haven't. Your grandfather made a mistake sending you here, especially not at Alys' bidding. He must have been desperate to risk you, even if he knew how much it was. The curse you and your dragon suffered from was Alys's work, a nasty thing, if I say so myself. You're very lucky that I was around, and that your grandfather waited as long as he did to reply. Then again, asking for you to come, as a sign of goodwill, was bound to raise some red flags. I don't even think she expected your grandfather to agree so quickly, or she would have waited before moving against me."
"And what did she want with me?"
"The blood of kings can be a powerful thing in the wrong hands. And of course, your dragon. She's a big one, isn't she?"
Aemond growled, "How can I believe you?"
"Well, you could read your grandfather's letter, couldn't you? Or just ask him when you get back. I don't exactly care, if I'm honest. I only stayed around out of curiosity, more than anything, and to make sure that you don't accidentally get killed while you were asleep. That would have been troublesome."
"Why not kill me? Don't you serve Rhaenyra? No one else would know, and she would have rewarded you."
Harry released an amused chuckle, "Kid, if you think I give a shit about your messed-up family drama, then you'd be very wrong. I also don't leave kids to die in the wilderness. Weird, right?"
Was the sorcerer telling the truth? Had Aemond's grandfather sent him to his death to broker some deal with some witch, "So you did all of this?"
"Alys Rivers annoyed me," he replied while shrugging, as if he hadn't destroyed one of the largest fortresses in the Seven Kingdoms.
That left Aemond speechless, and they stayed in silence for a few seconds, until he asked a question that had been on his mind before, "Would you have healed my eye, if I'd said yes, earlier?"
A kind smile appeared on the man's face, "Yes, I would have. I still could now, you know?"
Aemond simply shook his head and started to climb on Vhagar, only to be interrupted by the sorcerer speaking up, "Oh! Do you mind sending a message to your grandfather for me? Don't worry, it's a very short one. Tell him that he should be careful who he entreats himself with, especially when magic is involved. Tell him that he's starting to get my attention, and that I recommend that he not try to become an annoyance."
The young prince shivered at the man's tone when he said this, before nodding. Immediately, afterwards, Harry's face morphed into a very enthusiastic smile, "Have a nice flight, and remember what I said about finding something to love outside of all of this. It'll bring you far more peace than anything else in the world. Farewell, Aemond Targaryen"
"Farewell, Harry," he replied while turning towards the sorcerer one last time, only to notice that he had disappeared completely. He shook his head and commanded Vhagar to fly back to King's Landing.
He needed to speak with his grandfather.
[---]
AN: That chapter really got away from me, but I had fun writing it. I might have taken some liberties in Aemond's characterisation, but I tried to portray him as a smart young man who's angry at the world, since everyone in his life failed him in a very severe way. Just like his grandfather had by almost getting him killed. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
[---]
If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.