The song of ice and fire

The Prince of Dragonstone

Aemon

My brother’s seat is Dragonstone like the Targaryen Crown Princes that came before him but Daeron never liked the castle. It has always been too dark and grim for the likes of someone as charismatic as he is. I don’t mind it much. It’s much quieter than the Capital for sure and I appreciate the quiet. So here we are sitting in the War Room behind the Throne. It is here that Aegon the Conqueror planned his invasion and conquest of Westeros three centuries ago and it is in this room that my mother, Daenerys Stormborn planned to retake what was hers with Fire and Blood.

Daeron lazes on the chair, leaning easily like he always does, legs crossed, his feet resting on the Painted Table somewhere between the Neck and the Fingers. He looks at me and smiles that same smile that had hundreds of girls falling in love with him when he won the joust during the last Grand Tourney.

“You know you brood too much Brother…” He remarks with a chuckle.

I breathe and shake my head. Tell me something I don’t already know Brother…

That is how different we are. I brood quietly while he smiles and talks to everyone. He is warm and friendly to courtiers and I stand still, observing people. Wondering what they want from my brother, the future king, Daeron the Third of his Name once he is crowned. I think about that a lot lately. When Father dies, things will not be the same. Daeron will sit on the throne and I will be his Hand as he has told me many times ever since we were boys. And we cannot be as we once were.

Kill the boy and let the man be born… Father always tells Daeron and I, reminding us of our duty and that we are children no longer. That we have to be the shields that guard the realm, that we have to protect the weak and do so honourably and nobly. It was drilled to us eversince we had learned to talk and walk. I heard the stories of what a Great man my father was during the War. He was fearless, valiant and he saved the realm. He saved everyone. Everyone knows him as the legendary King and the heroic warrior. But he is still my father. He taught me the sword and how to shoot arrows properly.

He brought Daeron and me hunting when we were boys and told us stories of what happened when he was in the Nights Watch while we were camped out in the forest. He taught my brother and I of the Old gods and the Old ways. He never considered himself a Dragon but he did accept his Targaryen heritage. And he told us how much he loves our mother. That she is brave, kind and gentle. He told us of how she flew her dragons beyond The Wall to save him and his men, risking everything dear to her, even the life of her beloved Viserion. He knew then that she meant too much to him. She wasn’t just an ally, a foreign invader or a Queen but His Queen.

“Was that when you knew that Mama loves you?” I asked him.

Father gave a small smile. “I had an inkling of it…”

“And when did you fall in love with her, Father?” Daeron asked.

“It was well before the rescue. We were in a cave where the dragonglass was mined. It was dark except for the torch and your mother was looking at the cave paintings I wanted to show her…I looked at her and thought I had never seen anything so beautiful in all my life…” My father sighed and shook his head.

“But there was no time for it. There was no time for anything. We were in the middle of a Great War…”

The Birth of a Prince

Rhaelle

My mother smiles as she holds the baby close to her breast. He suckles hungrily and she bends to kiss his tiny forehead. She looks at him with all the love in her violet eyes but I see the sadness in them as well. She had to endure too much loss before she manages to feel happy again. And I know that at this moment, she is very happy. The happiest she has ever been. She has her precious son in her arms and a husband who loves and adores her and looks at her as if she hung the stars in the sky.

“He smiles a lot,” Father remarks. Mama looks up and smiles at him. The love she has for him shining in her eyes and my Father looks at her the same way. I’ve seen it a million times before.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so in love with each other like my parents are. Even after more than twenty years together, they still embrace and kiss each other lovingly. They hold hands and take walks in the palace gardens during the evenings and watch the sunset at the terrace. Mama would wait for Father to be done with his Kingly duties before having supper together. Lyanna says it doesn’t always work that way. A royal marriage isn’t about love but stability. I guess my parents are lucky to have both.

“He is a happy prince. He will want for nothing and I’ll make sure of it.” The Dragon Queen says.

“Aye you will…” Father says as he moves closer in the bed. He touches the baby’s hand and Daeron grabs onto him.

There’s a hint of fierce determination in my mother’s soft voice and now I know why Daeron is her favourite child. Why my parents look at him differently than they do the rest of us. I know they love us all the same and they love us very much but Daeron was born soon after the Great War during the harshest winter’s night in Winterfell. A blizzard was pounding hard outside when he came out into the world.

Lord Tyrion said it was ironic that Daenerys Stormborn gave birth to her son and heir during the middle of a raging snowstorm. The gods were being cunts as usual… I think was what he said. I had to try not to giggle while my sister rolled her eyes when the Lord Hand said it. He was rather drunk during Daeron’s twentieth banquet.

Daeron became a symbol of a new future when he was born, a brighter, new beginning for our family and for the country. House Targaryen has been restored and having an heir meant that my parents can establish a dynasty that will last a thousand years. My mother and father poured all their hopes and dreams into him.

I hear a soft whine and look towards the door, Ghost had just walked in and I smile seeing the white direwolf. How I have missed him dearly. It has been a while since I have seen him. My father turns and calls Ghost to him.

“Come here Boy…I want you to meet the future King…”

Ghost moves towards the bed but he stops halfway. He then moves to where I was standing and nuzzles his nose on my leg. He can see me and I smile. He has always been able to see me whenever I visit the past. I bend down and scratched his head. I kneel on the floor and hug him close, loving the feel of his thick white fur. Ghost licks my face and I giggle slightly.

“What’s he doing Jon?” My mother asks as she looks on. She can’t see me but somehow knows that Ghost is interacting with someone or something…

“I don’t know…” Father shrugs, he finds it odd as well but he doesn’t question it further. “Come on Ghost. Here Boy….”

Ghost then turns and move to my father. The direwolf looks up at my mother and the baby she’s nursing.

“Daeron Eddard Targaryen…” Father says proudly and smiles. “My son.”

“Shouldn’t it be Stark?” My mother asks him. She sounds unsure. She looks at Father, and I know she doesn’t want the past strain between them to ever be repeated.

“But I am not a Stark.” He tells her. Mama sighs and move to kiss his lips and Father kisses her back. She pulls away reluctantly and looks at him.

“You don’t have to choose Jon. You are both. Targaryen and Stark,” She says and gently caresses his bearded cheek.

“I know…” He leans his forehead on hers.

“But I cannot deny the truth anymore Dany. I am the son of Rhaegar. I have to accept that.”

She nods and kisses him more. My mother looks down and realises that Daeron is already asleep, curled up at her breast.

“We make a beautiful child my King.” She says absently. Her fingers gently caressing Daeron’s dark fuzz of hair.

“We should have more children then my Queen.” Father says and she smiles at him. I smile when I hear that knowing what the future will hold for the both of them.