Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF and Marvel characters and all recognizable characters, plots, belong to GRRM and Marvel. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 11: The Feast
King's Landing
83 AC
Gaemon tried to vanish into the sprawling corridors of the Red Keep from the feast in the great hall after the tourney had ended earlier that day. He had almost reached the side door when another noble lady intercepted him, ambushing him for a dance. He wanted to refuse and slip away, but feeling the eyes of his mother on his back, he relented. After all, the feast was partly in his honor as well, and he did not want to fuel the nobles' growing fascination with him by vanishing from court again.
In the past, it had been easy for the lords, ladies, and courtiers to dismiss him. They offered only the bare minimum respect owed to a prince, and many had even stopped doing that when it became clear he did not gave a fuck for courtly courtesies. But everything had changed in a single day. Before the revelation of his claiming Balerion and supposedly divine blessing of a healed great dragon, he had been seen as nothing more than the fourth son with no real prospects beyond his blood. Rumors of his wild nature and constant fights had spread across the court, which had ended any interest or schemes that involved him—just as Gaemon had expected. After all, no one could depend on someone who would not follow rules or bend to their plans.
The tourney and the feast had already been named by the lords as the Tourney of the Three Princes. His brother Baelon had won the joust, and his brother Aemon had been named Hand of the King after the King dismissed the Septon—a decision that had shocked everyone in the castle. It was the triumph of his elder brothers, who had worked hard for their success. Yet, to Gaemon's frustration, everyone seemed obsessed with him instead.
He should have foreseen the impact of claiming Balerion, especially after creating such a spectacle at the tourney grounds. But he had agreed when the King suggested it, simply because he had wanted to escape the constant pursuit by his sisters and betrothals. Now, he was paying the price.
Gaemon almost let his claws slip in anger when the noble lady—whose name he could not even be bothered to remember—pressed his head against her chest while giving him bedroom eyes during their dance. His face twisted in disgust as he remembered the simple fact: to everyone, he was only ten years old.
With sudden strength, Gaemon forced them toward the sidelines, startling the lady. As they reached the edge of the dance floor, he stepped away and stopped moving altogether. They stood nearly in the shadows, and seeing this, her eyes widened before a smirk spread across her face. She tried to cup his cheek, but Gaemon slapped her hand away.
The woman winced at the sting, her frown deepening.
"Hey," Gaemon growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't give a fuck who you are. If you ever give a child the eyes you just gave me, I'll claw them out and feed them to you. For god's sake, I am only ten. How could you even think of seducing a boy that age?" His voice dripped with absolute disgust.
The amusement and excitement in her face vanished at once, replaced by irritation and anger. For a moment, Gaemon thought she had lost all sense. But then he saw recognition dawn in her eyes—remembrance of the tales about him and his fights. Anger gave way to fear, and she nodded frantically while stammering out apologies.
Gaemon held her gaze a moment longer, drilling into her the certainty that he would follow through with his threat. Only then did he nod.
"Good day to you, my lady," he said coldly before walking away.
He knew now that escaping the hall was futile. Instead, he decided to hide behind his sister. He made his way toward the head table where House Targaryen sat. The table was almost empty save for his three-year-old sister, Gael. It always amazed Gaemon how calm and docile she was compared to other children. The only reason a three-year-old was allowed at the feast at all, seated while being fed by her septa, was because of her serene temperament.
His nephew Daemon, the one-year-old son of Alyssa and Baelon, would never be allowed near a feast until he was six or seven. The boy was far too temperamental.
Gaemon approached the chair where little Gael sat propped on many pillows and picked her up without warning. Gael stiffened at once, turning her head to see who had lifted her, but immediately smiled when she realized it was her brother.
"My prince," the septa said in warning, shaking her head. But one hard look from Gaemon silenced her. She bowed her head as though in prayer and said no more.
"You may leave and pray in the sept if you want to seat like that." Gaemon said without even looking at the septa, who immediately followed through the order. Gaemon looked around and to his surprise there was no one near the High Table. More than that the noise of the dance and music drowned every other sound.
Gaemon pulled a nearby chair close and sat down with Gael in his lap. He began feeding her small pieces of food while helping himself from the table as well. He could feel the many eyes watching him at the high table, but he ignored them all, focusing instead on Gael and the meal before him.
To be honest, he was still hungry, even after eating plenty before the torture of dancing. Even with the noise of the feast filling his ears, Gaemon sensed Septon Barth approaching from behind. The septon came to stand directly behind his chair, and Gaemon decided he would not acknowledge the man unless directly addressed.
The septon cleared his throat. He coughed. He shifted his weight. Gaemon ignored him entirely.
The back of the high table was not a place everyone could access; only the servants and members of House Targaryen were allowed there. If Gaemon turned to face Barth now, he would have to look up from his seat, allowing the septon to stand over him and begin the conversation from a position of false authority. If Barth had approached from the front, as courtesy demanded, then he would have been forced to bow and address a prince of the blood properly. Gaemon knew well that the sanctimonious bastard wanted to avoid that—and to question him about Balerion from a position of dominance.
After several minutes of futile attempts to gain attention, Septon Barth sighed and left the hall entirely. Gaemon smirked as he watched him retreat, silently hoping he would never have to deal with the lying hypocrite again.
He fed Gael another small piece of meat before taking a generous bite himself. That was when he noticed Rhaenys approaching the high table. She walked to the far end and sat down, deliberately ignoring him.
Curious, Gaemon called out, "Rhaenys, why go sit there alone? Come, sit here. Let us talk. I am almost sad that you never came to visit me while I was recovering."
For a moment, Rhaenys's calm face cracked into disbelief, then she simply shrugged without answering.
Gaemon frowned but let it go for now. Before he could press further, a young noble lady approached the high table, clearly intending to ask him for a dance. Gaemon grimaced. Before she could speak, he lifted Gael slightly and fed her a small piece of chicken, making it clear he was occupied. The girl's hopeful face fell into comical disappointment as she realized the prince was using his little sister as a shield.
"Ah, as usual. There is the Prince Gaemon I know—using your relatives for your selfish purposes." The snide voice came from Rhaenys, who had been sitting silently until then.
Gaemon studied her, sensing rage and even sorrow beneath her words. He wondered what he had done to provoke such anger in the girl. Perhaps she had been punished harshly by his sister and mother for the prank she had pulled as his distraction.
"Niece," Gaemon decided to be honest and asked slowly, "do I sense anger from you? Was the punishment from my sister and mother too harsh for that prank?"
Rhaenys's eyes widened slightly in surprise before narrowing. "So you do not even bother to deny it?" she snapped. "Curse you, you smug, selfish bastard."
Gaemon's brows rose at the sheer hostility in her tone, the genuine desire to harm. His eyes narrowed in turn, the silent warning sharp enough that even Rhaenys—who had never felt real danger before—sensed something amiss.
"Niece," he said, softer, trying to console the girl, "I apologize for whatever you suffered as punishment. I promise I will speak with my mother and see it undone."
Rhaenys nearly hurled her utensil at him, stopping only because of the many guests and eyes upon them.
"For Meraxes' sake, it is not about the punishment!" she snapped again. "I hate you because you used me for your selfish goal. More than that—you promised to help protect my father from his enemies by sending Dreamfyre to me. You even promised you will go with Balerion himself, and look what you did! You never meant it. You lied and you almost died like the stupid boy you are, and now my father has gone back on his word and betrothed me to that foolish little Viserys!"
Gaemon was thankful that the noise of the hall and the distance between the high table and the guests kept their conversation private.
"Oh? That is what angers you?" Gaemon asked, honestly perplexed. "Then you should thank me. Marrying Viserys is the best choice you could have when you are grown." He shrugged, dismissive.
Rhaenys scoffed. "Do not think this is over. I will never forgive you, Gaemon. You will never understand the hours I spent fearing for my father's life and safety. For that, at least, you need a father you love—and one you actually wish to protect." She stood abruptly and stormed away.
Gaemon let out a weary sigh and looked down at Gael, who was watching him with a small, worried expression.
"Ah, don't worry, my dear sister," he said with a faint frown. "She is just a child and will get over it."
He paused, then muttered under his breath, "Well… probably."
"I don't think so, brother," Baelon said from behind him.
Gaemon turned and looked at Baelon as he sat down beside him. He could see that Baelon was disappointed at the complete lack of surprise in Gaemon's expression. It always amused Baelon how utterly aware Gaemon was of his surroundings.
"Baelon," Gaemon acknowledged with a nod.
Baelon observed his siblings for a moment before chuckling softly. "Clearly, brother, you have mastered the art of saving yourself from troublesome nobles and their advances. A brilliant use of your sister. When I was younger, I too did just that—though quite unintentionally on my part, and very much intentionally on Alyssa's."
Gaemon only smiled at that. "Hey, I did this for Gael, not for myself. Mother should never have brought her here simply because she is shy, only to leave her under a septa so openly. Leave that aside. What do you mean by your words just now?"
"Brother, for all your supposed experience, you can still be a fool at times. Do you think Rhaenys will forget and forgive you for manipulating her, for using her? Clearly, you know little of children and their hearts. You might be right if it were something ordinary or irrelevant, even if you used them as a distraction—but this was not that. You gave her hope against her deepest fear of losing her father, and then she was nearly confined to her chambers as punishment, worrying over both her father and you. Such things linger, brother. I fear this will stay in her mind for a long time. There is a saying I once heard from a traveler: even if you promise someone an elephant, never promise them hope." Baelon said with a such contemplation in his eyes that Gaemon wondered whether Baelon is on some leaves. Gaemon had tried to find tobacco or even some weed but he couldn't even hear rumours of smoking from anyone. Gaemon shook his head to dismiss his thoughts of finding something to smoke.
Gaemon remained silent as he processed the matter. For all his memories, he did not wish to compare the wants of children with his own childhood—or even with Xavier's school. Their situations, their desires, were entirely different.
"I see," Gaemon said at last, grimacing. "I feel sorry for her, but I do not regret it, brother. I needed Blackfyre to save Balerion, and that was the best time to do it. That alone will protect this realm and do more good than any mental harm caused to a ten-year-old princess because of her irrational fear. She must accept reality for what it is and face it, if she wishes to be a good queen after Aemon. Even with her dream of Aemon's death, there was nothing she could have done with a dragon that you or Father could not have."
Baelon nodded in acknowledgment. "You are correct in that, Gaemon. We did take precautions because of her warnings. Still, it was very poor form that you used your own blood like that. Aemon is furious at what happened, and only Father's and Mother's words stopped him from confronting you when he found out. He expects at least an apology from you for what you did, brother."
Gaemon snorted, then even laughed slightly before stopping himself. "Oh, you are serious?" Gaemon asked, surprised.
"I thought at least the king would have taught you and Aemon what it is to rule—and to be pragmatic, as he is. Aemon coddles his precious daughter far too much, and he should be thankful that someone else in the family is teaching her some less painful lessons in ruling a kingdom. As for his apology, I don't like to lie, and he can shove his apology where the sun doesn't shine," Gaemon finished with a slight growl.
Baelon's eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't expected such resistance from Gaemon over a casual apology.
"Brother, are you a fool? He is our eldest brother, and more than that, the future king. Do you truly want to carry a grudge that could be settled with a simple apology? It is meaningless in the grand scheme of things, and you would lose nothing."
Gaemon only scoffed. "Baelon, Aemon is the fool if he insists on keeping anger at me when I am the greatest defender of his crown right now. As I said, I value family, and I want them to be safe and happy. I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. I don't want to be alone ever again. And this would not be the first time I've clashed with an elder brother. I can live with it, even welcome it, if it comes to that—which I doubt, since you and Father will talk sense into him by the time he sits the throne."
Baelon remained silent for a time, then gave a small nod after some thought.
"Let us just hope for the best, brother," Baelon said with a defeated sigh.
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Author note: yeah canon is fucked ig. I didn't have that plans initially. I wanted to follow canon and my plans also revolves around that almost… but by reaching here if I just follow canon with such butterfly effects the story would be just pointless. So rhaneys will marry vissy and their bethrothal is confirmed.
I have a plotline for gaemon which would go with or without canon happening so no problems changing canon by his presence and doings…. I have a middle point in this fic that is hundred percent confirmed point in my plans for gaemon's journey. I don't know when gaemon will reach there as I could technically place it almost anytime I wanted. I just wanted to place it in the most surprising and most aapt point…
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