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123 AC, King's Landing
The Lord of the North turned to the king, "If they wished to drain your dragons, Your Grace, then it means their magicks are not finished. These creatures were meant to delay us." Viserys looked pale, but steadier than expected. "Then we must reach the Dragonpit at once."
Aemond Targaryen relished the feeling of Blackfyre in his grip. It felt right to wield the Conqueror's sword, a living testament of his father's trust in him, if it weren't for how dire the situation around him was. It had been a great day, too. The Strong bastards had been displayed and humbled before the realm, a great testament of their true parentage.
His mother had once promised him that their shame would follow them to the end of their lives, and Queen, she might be, Aemond had doubted her ability to follow through with it. Despite the many talks of rage and claims to the throne, she had done very little against the Blacks, bar spreading some rumours that they obviously did not care for. She had done nothing but follow his grandfather's commands, like some loyal pet, not the Queen, not a member of House Targaryen.
Aemond loved her, of course, but ever since Harrenhall, ever since he realised that Otto Hightower had knowingly sent him to his death and he almost fell to the mercy of some bastard witch, he had started to doubt how much his family truly cared for him.
It had been a wake-up call, to say the least. And so, he had tested his mother, told her what happened in Harrenhal, and was surprised, and quite happy when she had sent her father away the following day for Aemond's sake.
Things had changed since they returned from Dragonstone. His mother was no longer as restrained as she once was. Aegon had not had a drop of wine, and Helaena was more confident, carefree. Aemond did not care for pretences of fatherhood changing him, or the King's newfound health giving them hope for a better future; it was easy to realise what was responsible for that change, or more accurately, who was responsible.
For it was the sorcerer of Dragonstone, Harry Potter, the man who had saved Aemond in Harrenhal, the man that he had spoken to as he witnessed the remains of what was once the mightiest fortress in the Seven Kingdoms, the man that had been in the Red Keep just a few hours prior, so close, and so out of reach.
Oh, how Aemond wished to speak to him, to understand the mind of a man who commanded such power, such strength. It was why he had returned to the Throne Room without his siblings or mother, even after they had been dismissed by the King. Alas, it was not to be, for the sorcerer was gone, and Aemond's father refused to answer any question that he had regarding him.
Of course, that was when the sun had gone out, and the shadow creatures came. They were quite weak, but the strange dragon was far larger and far stronger, which was normal, for even amongst monsters, dragons would reign supreme.
Aemond had not even noticed when he had taken the sword from his father's grasp, but he did his best to defeat the beast, though he was relatively unsuccessful in his efforts. At least, he had injured the creatures, which was better than what any other courtier was able to achieve, let alone that coward Ser Criston, who had abandoned the king to hide behind a pillar. Aemond would never look at the man the same way again. Gods, he even felt ashamed to have been taught by the cowardly Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
It had only been Cregan Stark's arrival that gave them hope, for he came like a great saviour, with a direwolf in his side, and a glowing sword, and together, they killed the dragon and killed the Shadowbinder who created it.
Unfortunately, it was, but the beginning, and the sorcerer from Asshai did not act alone, for they wished to keep them trapped while they killed their dragons. The idea of their dragons dying to one of these traitorous Shadowbinders, ones who had broken Guest Right, was unacceptable.
Luckily for him, Vhagar had been far too large to be housed in the Dragonpit, but often nested outside the city gates, and beyond the reach of these Shadowbinders. But that was cold comfort, given that whenever he attempted to call on the Great Green Beast in his mind, their bond felt sluggish, shrouded.
He did not know that this was possible in the first place, and yet it was. Ever since he had made that realisation, he felt unsettled and wished nothing more than to rip the people who had made him feel like he was dragonless once more, into pieces.
And so, he followed the Wolf Lord's lead, hoping to stop the designs of the Shadowbinders. In the meantime, he couldn't help but worry about his family's state. He hadn't seen his mother, Aegon, or Helaena since they were dismissed by the King. He hoped that they were safe, but given how large the Red Keep was, looking for them would take too long. His father did send a few of his Kingsguard to see to their safety in the meantime, but they were only three, and one of them had proven themselves to be a coward.
Aemond would have joined them in their search if he didn't know that killing the Shadowbinders would be a far surer way to ensure their safety than searching for them ever could.
And so, the boy walked forward with his father's blessing, ready to face the horrors of Asshai to secure his family's legacy. He had already proven himself to be an able warrior despite his handicap, having slain his fair share of shadow beasts that roamed the Red Keep, but the world seemed to darken with every step they took towards the Dragonpit.
By the time they arrived at the Dragonpit, the world was utterly dark, and he heard the woman who came with the Stark Lord yell out, "I can't see everything."
Lord Cregan nodded and simply raised his magnificent weapon, which started to glow so brightly that Aemond closed his eyes instinctively. Yet, before he could release the glow, the man moved with blinding speed before them and stabbed the weapon to the ground, creating the same strange glowing shield in front of him.
Immediately, Stark's reasonings were revealed as a wave of shadows slammed into the shield, the impact sending most people stumbling back. Aemond, being younger than most, was no different.
When he stood up, Aemond realised that the impact had, somehow, dissipated much of the darkness, turning the world around it to various shades of grey, not quite natural, and yet very visible. Alas, it seemed that what he had seen was not particularly reassuring. In the middle were five Shadowbinders chanting in a language that Aemond had never heard before and yet gave him a headache just to hear it.
Aemond could hear most of the so-called knights besides him almost tremble in fear at the unnatural sight, with a few pious ones starting to pray to the Seven in fear. However, Cregan Stark simply stared at their enemies, his sword ready, as if he were waiting for a signal of some sort. This, of course, came in the form of a giant serpent made of shadows that appeared from their enemies' shadow, and leapt up in the air, ready to kill them.
The Lord of the North ran forward, turning into a white blur, and readied to attack the giant beast, whose venom seemed to melt the ground with every drip. He growled at the rest of their party, "You are descendants of the First Men and the Andals, proud warriors of the Seven Kingdoms. An evil has invaded this city with the aim of destroying it. Will you cower away and let it win, or will you fight for your lives, for your freedom, for your King!"
That seemed to be enough of a rallying point for the men behind him, as they all released a loud roar, "For the King!"
They all unsheathed their swords and ran towards their enemies, and before them, dozens of beasts appeared from the shadows, ready to defend their masters. Aemond rolled and skewered some strange reptilian creature with Blackfyre, and instead of attacking the Shadowbinder, an idea sprouted inside his mind.
The dragons.
This had always been about the dragons.
This was the reason for the attack in the first place, and freeing them alone would turn the tide against their enemy, both robbing them of their goal and giving his family weapons to fight against the Shadowbinders.
Without even thinking about it, he ran towards the closest entrance, not even knowing which dragon it was. He sincerely hoped that it wouldn't be one that belonged to the Strong bastards. They could barely even be called dragons, given their size. Then again, it was a mark against their blood.
He quickly found himself before the thick iron doors that bound them. To his shock, the doors were opened, likely by the Shadowbinders, and he carefully entered with his sword ready, only to freeze as he realised which dragon it was.
Its crimson scales were enough proof that fate was cruel indeed, for it was likely the most dangerous dragon, and the one most likely to kill Aemond, even should he free it.
For it was Caraxes, Daemon Targaryen, and just like its rider, he knew deep down that the Red Wyrm hated him with a passion. He had hoped that it would be Vermithor. The young prince remembered reading an obscure passage of Dragonlore, which detailed that often Dragons had similar temperaments to those of their riders, and often similar properties. The Bronze Fury, which had chosen his father as its rider, had a much better chance at not harming him if he acted for the good of the Seven Kingdoms. Caraxes, on the other hand, would not have that compunction, as its rider would have loved nothing more than to kill Aemond without hesitation.
And yet, the dragon was unusually docile. It should have started to hiss by them. Aemond stiffened as he noticed a faint shadowed line starting from the dragon's own shadow and sliding toward its flank like a living thread. In the meantime, Caraxes looked to be almost frozen, its wings trembling, as if it were trying to fly away. He quickly realised that it was not the dragon being docile, for Caraxes never was, but he was being drained. The mere sight of a once proud dragon reduced to this state, chained and helpless, sickened him.
Just as Aemond tried to think of a solution, he felt something move behind him, and he swung his sword, only to miss whatever it was, and a sudden burn in his stomach. Immediately, his body locked up, refusing to move, staring at the man who attacked him.
It was a Shadowbinder who held a small dark knife, whose tip was dripping in blood. He heard it speaking, "What magnificent blood you have… and a smart one too… I will enjoy this."
Just as the sorcerer readied itself to attack him, a white owl, of all things, appeared out of nowhere and released a silver glow. The Shadowbinder hissed in anger, releasing spears of darkness to skewer the bird, but in the meantime, Aemond realised that he could move, if barely.
He did not know why he had done so, but he threw his weapon towards Caraxes, specifically, where the thread in the dragon's shadow was. Valyrian Steel pierced the thread, and immediately, Caraxes moved.
Aemond jumped down and yelled, "Caraxes! Dracarys!"
He hoped that the dragon would follow his command, and for a fraction of a second, he feared that it would attack him instead. Thankfully, his worries proved to be false, as the dragon released a jet of crimson flames, burning the Shadowbinder to a crisp. The sorcerer screamed in pain and anger, and Aemond had a bloodthirsty smile on his face at the sound.
For some reason, the owl, which had survived by some miracle, gave him a disappointed look, followed by a disgruntled hoot.
The young prince immediately picked up his sword from near Caraxes and looked at the dragon in the eyes, addressing the Red Wyrm in High Valyrian, "House Targaryen is in danger. We are beset with a great evil that wishes to steal the power of your kin. Will you fight with me, Caraxes? Will you fight for House Targaryen?"
The dragon released a hiss, and its eyes finally left Aemond's features and looked towards the door. The young prince's features relaxed, and he quickly ran, grabbed Blackfyre, and used it to cut the thick chains that bound the dragon.
The moment that he became free, Caraxes ran forward quickly, still unable to fly fully, and made his way to the fighters. Aemond quickly ran behind the dragon, with his sword unsheathed, though he lagged behind as he was much slower than a grown dragon.
By the time the young prince returned, he saw Caraxes burn a Shadowbinder to a crisp, while Cregan Stark was using his strange glowing sword to decapitate another. In the meantime, most of their party had been fighting off the many animals that spilt from their shadows, all following the commands of a woman of all people, the strange one that came with Stark. Still, they seemed to be doing well, with her occasionally telling the archers to attack the Shadowbinders whenever she felt like they would attack Cregan Stark, who seemed to be doing most of the work.
Still, there were only two Shadowbinders remaining, and Aemond quickly ran ready to use Blackfyre to stab one of them in the back, only for a shadow to appear before him and lift him off the ground by his neck.
Somehow, the shadows raised his captor as well, and he looked Aemond deep in the eyes. It was becoming quite hard to breathe, and the world was darkening. He heard the monster before him utter words in that strange language once more, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep hold of the sword, which fell down with a clang.
Why was he resisting in the first place?
The darkness was all-encompassing, comforting, in a way.
Then suddenly there was a burst of white light, and Aemond's mind righted itself. He looked at the Shadowbinders' surprised eyes, kicked him as quickly as he could in the knees, and fell down. He quickly grabbed the sword and threw it at the Shadowbinder. The sorcerer tried to create some sort of shield with his magic, but the sword pierced through it, impaling him in the heart.
However, what he did so, he noticed that the last Shadowbinder, the one that Cregan Stark still battled, had become significantly stronger. Darkness fully shrouded the sorcerer, enough that he seemed to be as tall as a young dragon, making him look more akin to a demon.
Gods!
He had noticed that the last Shadowbinder was significantly stronger than the one that Caraxes killed in his cell. Were they becoming stronger with every single one that died somehow?
He did not have the time to think about the matter as he felt a great pressure pushing him to the ground. Everyone had fallen as well, falling victim to whatever spell that was. Everyone other than Cregan Stark, who glared at the demon-like creature, with his sword ready, and his Direwolf growling behind him.
The demon released a beam of darkness towards the Lord of Winterfell, and a large glowing white shield appeared before him, stopping it. In the meantime, he heard the Northman's voice echo, his voice gravelly, "I am the Stark of Winterfell. I have walked where my ancestors stood up to the darkness and finished what their vigil began. You are not welcome beneath this sky. I deny you form, I deny you hunger, I deny you this world. This is as far as you go."
The sorcerer must have noticed that something was occurring, as he seemingly increased the shadows' power, only for Caraxes to release a jet of flames at him, forcing him to shield against it.
In the meantime, Stark's Direwolf started to glow white, with a figure of a much larger Direwolf enveloping it. Cregan Stark rode the creature, his sword almost blinding, and growled, "WINTERFELL!"
It happened in the blink of an eye, an explosion of light as both Direwolf and Lord moved towards the demon, overpowering his attack, and cutting straight through the shroud of darkness that cloaked him. Aemond barely had time to shield his eye as the blast forced the very shadows on the walls to recoil.
A deafening crack split the air, and he was sent flying back before he could even react. He hit the ground hard enough that he felt sore. For a while, Aemond heard very little but the ringing in his ears. He forced his eyes open, and everything was blurred, and slightly grey, and his chest hurt with every breath he took.
He slowly pushed himself up and looked at the surroundings. The good news was that the darkness was gone, including the dome of darkness that had overwhelmed the capital. The bad news was how he knew this, for the roof of the Dragonpit was almost completely torn open. In the distance, Aemond saw Caraxes flying above it, seemingly destroying more of it, likely hoping to ensure the freedom of the rest of the dragons. Thankfully, by some miracle, the impact had sent everyone flying back, enough that the collapsing roof hadn't killed anyone of their party.
However, whatever worry he felt was dwarfed as he saw the form of Cregan Stark. The Lord of the North dragged himself upright with visible effort, limping heavily. His clothes were torn, smeared with ash, yet his sword remained glowing, somehow. However, he was preoccupied with ensuring that his Direwolf was well, which, given the way his shoulders relaxed, it was, though likely just as battered as he was.
The young Lord gave him a look of respect, which the prince couldn't help but return, but both froze as they felt the rubble shift in the distance. A masked figure stood up, the last Shadowbinder. He looked injured as well, with his robes being cut and seeping blood around him. The shroud of shadows that surrounded him was gone, and his mask was broken, revealing the snarling, tattooed face that had been hidden previously. He was obviously weakened, but then again, most were injured.
With Blackfyre still likely being impaled inside the Shadowbinder that he killed, Aemond realised that he was completely unarmed. Cregan Stark raised his weapon shakingly and readied himself to slay the Shadowbinder once and for all, only for a sword to impale the sorcerer from the back.
The Shadowbinder looked confused for a moment before finally slumping down, dead, revealing the identity of his murderer. Aemond couldn't help but gape in shock as he saw who it was, for it was his half-sister, Rhaenyra.
It was the same sister who had once asked the King to rip out his tongue for speaking the truth about her bastards' heritage, a woman that Aemond hated with a passion, but not quite as much as the boys who maimed him. Nevertheless, the woman looked practically untouched, her robes pristine, and when their eyes met, for just a fraction of a moment, he swore that he felt her eyes turn crimson, and he felt as if he was in danger.
He shook his head. It must have been a trick of the light, given that her eyes were purple. After all, he was still somewhat unsettled by the battle. Still, that did not explain why Cregan Stark seemed strangely tense at her presence. He bowed and answered, "Princess. We thank you for your aid."
"Sister," Aemond followed, "I am glad to see you well."
Rhaenyra nodded and grabbed the sword from the fallen Shadowbinder's frame, which he immediately recognised as Blackfyre. "I believe that you dropped this."
He nodded as he took the weapon, "Thank you, sister. Have you fared well in the attack?"
The woman nodded, "I got separated from my husband during the attack. I evaded many of these shadow monsters, which brought me here before they suddenly faded away. I saw the Dragonpit collapsing, and then an opportunity to slay those who posed a danger to my family. Thankfully, mine and Daemon's children are unharmed, and last I saw, your mother was safe with the Reach's delegation, alongside your brother Aegon, his children, and Daeron."
"What of Helaena?"
"I do not know. She was not seen since the attack began. Do you not know where she went?"
Aemond's breath caught. Helaena. In the chaos of the attack and the threat to his family's dragons, he had set his family's safety aside, knowing that the best way to protect them was to slay the dangers to them in the first place.
And while he was glad to hear that most were safe, the idea of Helaena being injured raced in his mind. He tightened his grip on Blackfyre and answered, "No… But she likes the Godswood. It always calmed her. If she fled anywhere, it would be there."
Rhaenyra's brows lifted, and to Aemond's surprise, she stepped forward without hesitation. "Then I will come with you. We will find her together."
Before Aemond could respond, Cregan Stark interjected, wiping the soot from his face, "I will accompany you."
Rhaenyra's head snapped toward him. "This is a Targaryen matter, Lord Stark. You need not involve yourself further."
For a fraction of a second, the woman's eyes flared crimson for a moment once more. No, it must have been his tired mind that played tricks on him.
However, the Lord of the North did not seem convinced, "Your Grace, with respect, we do not yet know how many dangers remain from the attack. Your father, the King, charged me with seeing the innocents of this city safe, and that includes you, Princess."
The princess stared at him, seemingly caught off guard by his refusal. Was the woman so unused to being refused? It was not an irrational thing to ask, as well. It was strange that Rhaenyra had wanted to refuse his aid in the first place. Then again, she was always a prideful creature. Eventually, she exhaled and gave the smallest nod of acceptance.
Stark turned to the woman who accompanied him, "Sara, see to everyone here. Make sure the wounded are tended, and take care of Ghost. He has exhausted himself. Don't forget to reassure the King that the threat had been neutralised for now, and that we are searching for Princess Helaena."
Both pairs of grey eyes met, seemingly having a private silent conversation, before the girl nodded, "Very well, brother."
Aemond's eyes widened. That was Stark's sister? He did not concern himself much with the affairs of other lords, but he hadn't known that Cregan Stark had a sister, nor did he know that she was so formidable.
No, he shook his head. He had to focus on Helaena.
He raised Blackfyre and moved with purpose out of the Dragonpit, towards the Godswood, with Cregan Stark following him. Rhaenyra matched their pace, with surprising urgency. Despite his aching body, he pushed forward, for he would not rest, not now, not while Helaena was unaccounted for. He would see her safe again… and if any harm had come to her, then everyone responsible would learn the intensity of Vhagar's flames.
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AN: Phew, that chapter took a lot out of me. I decided to use Aemond's POV since it hadn't been a while, while also not making the hints I left about what's happening in the background a bit too obvious, and the Potters' discreet involvement. There is a reason they didn't show up, which will be explained soon.
I also tried to make the chapter a bit scattered to adjust to Aemond's POV, since he is still young, and this is his first true fight for his life. I'm not sure if it came out nicely or not. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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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.