Age in the year (107 A.C.)
Aemon Targaryen Stark: 15 years old (Born in 92 A.C.)
Daemon Targaryen: 27 years old (Born in 80 A.C.)
Alicent Hightower: 18 years old (Born in 89 A.C.)
Lyanna Stark: 31 years old (Born in 76 A.C.)
Rhaenyra Targaryen: 13 years old (Born in 94 A.C.)
Aemma Targaryen Aryn: 28 years old (Born in 79 A.C.)
Laena Velaryon: 15 years old (Born in 92 A.C.)
Laenor Velaryon: 13 years old (Born in 94 A.C.)
Corlys Velaryon: 46 years old (Born in 63 A.C.)
Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon: 35 years old (Born in 74 A.C.)
Visenya Targaryen Stark: 13 years old (Born in 94 A.C.)
Arya Targaryen Stark: 9 years old (Born in 98 A.C.
Rickon Stark: 13 years old (Born in 94 A.C.)
Bennard Stark: 7 years old (Born in 100 A.C.)
Benjen Stark: 29 years old (Born in 78 A.C.
Lysa Lock: 32 years old (Born in 75 A.C.)
Otto Hightower: 39 years old (Born in 68 A.C.)
Harrold Westerling: 39 years old (Born in 68 A.C.)
Vaegon Targaryen: 44 years old (Born in 63 A.C.)
Viserys Targaryen: 30 years old (Born in 77 A.C.)
Raym Redwyne: 65 years old (Born in 42 A.C.)
Balerion (the dragon): 231 years old (Born in 124 B.C.)
Vhagar (the dragon): 159 years old (Born in 52 B.C.)
Ser Jeffery Trueleaf: 28 years old (Born in 79 A.C)
Edward Pool: 32 years old (Born in 75 A.C.)
Wylard Manderly: 34 years old (Born in 73 A.C.)
Gael Targaryen: 22
Baritmos Celitgar: 30
Aemon Targaryen (107 A.C., First Moon)
Sky of Driftmark and Dragonstone
"I must say, Aemon, I missed this, the smell of the Narrow Sea. Dragonstone will be the same when we visit the place. We will visit it, won't we?" Balerion asked him excitedly. He felt the dragon rumble, and he laughed then.
"Don't worry. With my brother's permission, Dragonstone will be our next project and the second bastion for House Targaryen. It is more than time that our ancient seat is seen as our power, not like the rat pit of King's Landing. You have seen the plans for Dragonstone. The volcano will give us even more freedom than Seadragon Point did. It will give us the power for it as well, and the heat can be used for a variety of uses. The only problem will be the wild dragons, but I suppose you can subdue them into some submission, no?" he asked in his head, and Balerion huffed out puffs of smoke.
As Dragonstone came into view, he knew he couldn't land there; it wasn't the destination for today. His stop would be the Isle of Driftmark, where his betrothed awaited him. He would see Laena again after almost four years. He wondered what she looked like now, and if. He had missed all of them, even Daemon. He was his brother, and his father had loved him. So he would try, although their relationship had never been great. Some hard work would be needed in that direction.
With him back in the capital and Seadragon Point running, he could step up in the realm's governance and start to ensure the Dance wouldn't happen or de-escalate the conflict. One part of that was increasing the power of his house, which was the power of knowledge, at least in the North. The power of the maesters had diminished, and the new Black Citadel, the Library of the White Dragon, as the smallfolk had begun calling it, had attracted many learned men and users of other arts. He suspected the maesters already knew, yet no defections had occurred, not that they could, as Black Citadel security, protecting them against maester incursion, was paramount to it.
The maesters hated what his family represented: knowledge and power they could never control or understand. Who were they, who willingly killed children and magic because they didn't understand it and wanted the power of knowledge all for themselves? Power invokes ego, corrupts, or turns terrible, but sometimes one could do beautiful things with it.
Yet the power of his house wasn't the only thing on his mind. The tournament for the heir, his wedding to Laena, and Aemma's pregnancy worried him. Everything was set up to make Alicent queen the moment Aemma died. Perhaps he could save her from dying in childbirth instead. He wasn't sure. History only said she died after the birth of Baelon, and the infant didn't live long after his mother's death.
Yet who to replace her? There were a few options. The eldest daughter of Gael, his cousin Daenerys, the name still brought him pain. Yet the girl was of Valyrian descent and cousin to Viserys like Aemma was, although the girl was only a year older than Arya, which meant a lengthy betrothal. The other was his own sister, three and ten years old, and like Rhaenyra, both flowered girls ready to be wedded.
Yet the thought didn't sit well with him, but he knew it was the best way to prevent the Dance from happening altogether. Only Daemon would be angry at the match.
His mother had been more than angry with him when he suggested the match. After an hour of raging, she had given in, but with conditions. She wouldn't marry Viserys until she was six and ten. She also wanted to be able to visit Winterfell or Seadragon Point from time to time and have a say in her own life. He had agreed to those conditions. It was his eldest sister; he loved her dearly, and he would do anything to give her happiness.
Yet there was still a third option he would rather not consider, something Arya had suggested: to have Alicent fall for him and make sure the future children were all bastards. No true contenders for the throne. Aemon knew what rumors of bastardy did to kingdoms. Joffrey's claim had been contested, and a bloody war had been fought over the succession. Even Rhaenyra herself had that problem with her own eldest sons, though that wasn't the main cause of the war, yet it had contributed.
Still, he didn't want to think about it anymore, not so close to reuniting with Laena.
He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard four other roars. One was Meleys, the Red Queen herself, dragon of Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was. Another was Seasmoke, the dragon of his friend and companion Laenor Velaryon. Laenor had returned to Driftmark a moon before to announce his coming. The other was a relatively large for his age, Jaefyre, large enough for a saddle. Just like the dragons of Daenerys, the hatching by blood magic had accelerated Jaefyre's growth. Upon her back was Laena, and his heart quickened at the sight of her.
The wind blew her hair, and even from here, he saw her deep purple eyes, the ones he loved to stare into.
Yet the loudest roar was that of Vhagar, which surprised him. He hadn't known his sister was here.
Balerion answered the calls of the four other dragons. They circled each other as he shouted greetings to them all.
"I hope my arrival is welcome?"
"Of course, cousin. You are my favorite cousin, as long as your wolves don't bite anyone. Your companions are also welcome," Rhaenys said with a grin.
"Hmm, then I suppose I can come," he laughed.
He followed them down toward High Tide, where a crowd awaited a princely welcome. He was a prince and the betrothed of their lord's daughter, so it wasn't a surprise.
Balerion landed with a thud on the beach. He unattached Ghost and his mate from their armor, which held them to the saddle, and the wolf hurried down the dragon's wing to the earth, rolling in the sand in happiness. He laughed at Ghost's antics, and so did the rest. Harrold, Jeffery, and Edward helped him untangle the bags, and chest Balerion had carried on the trip. The rest of his entourage would arrive in a moon or so on his ship, the Spring Prince, named after his father.
"Gratias tibi ago, amice, nam equitare. Bene fecisti. Thank you, buddy, for the ride. You did well," he said to Balerion in High Valyrian as he petted the dragon's snout, and Balerion let out a trill.
"No problem, Aemon. I wanted to return for some time. Flying with some extra baggage doesn't make a difference," Balerion answered through their bond.
"Harrold, how are you doing? It was a five-hour flight from the Eyrie," he asked.
"I'm fine, Aemon. Just like before, you see the world quite beautiful on dragonback. So thank you for that." Harrold said as he glanced at Balerion.
"It isn't a problem, Ser. Your company is always welcome," he said, smiling at the knight.
"Edward, Jeffery, Bennard?" he asked.
"I'm good as well. Although I enjoy being back on the ground," Edward said. Jeffery nodded, and Bennard began to speak then.
"I will never get enough of it, cousin. I could fly for another hour," the seven-year-old noted with a wide grin.
"Good. Now unload the rest of the cargo while I greet my kin." They all nodded.
He turned toward High Tide, where, a bit farther, he saw the other dragons had landed, and his kin were coming his way.
Soon enough, Visenya was the first to reach him. He embraced his sister in a hug. She had grown, almost a woman, the same age Sansa had been when she departed for King's Landing.
"I missed you, big brother," she murmured into his neck.
"It's a welcome surprise to find you here. I didn't expect to see you until we all went to King's Landing," he noted, still holding her.
"I asked Viserys to let me come and greet you. He said he couldn't deny me seeing my favorite brother," Visenya said with a wide smile.
"Favorite, hmm," he said with a grin.
"Of course," Visenya stated as she kissed his cheek.
Before she parted with him, he turned and saw the rest waiting, yet his own eyes fell upon Laena. His heart quickened once more as he remembered the last time they had truly been alone, when they had shared their first kiss after their ride on Balerion and her bonding with Jaefyre.
The silver hair caught the sun and shone against the white sands. She wore blue riding clothes with the Velaryon sigil embroidered upon her shoulders.
"Laena, you look like a true dragonrider, and one beautiful besides," he stammered.
"Thank you, Aemon. It is wonderful to see you again," she said with her soft voice. Still the same as he remembered, but perhaps with a maturity that hadn't been there before. He stepped toward her, took her hand, and kissed it.
"Thank you, betrothed."
Laena blushed and smiled.
He turned toward Laenor.
"Ah, Aemon, my brother," Laenor said as he embraced him. He had missed his friend. Laenor was like a brother to him, just as Robb had been. There weren't many people in the world who were men his age, dragonriders, or part of the royal family. He and Laenor were the only ones. During Laenor's wardship in Winterfell, he, Laenor, and Rickon had become inseparable. Especially when traveling North together, and he didn't mind. He needed people he trusted, much like Harrold in a way.
"It is good to see you too, Leni," he said with a smirk, and Laenor grinned.
"Leni?" Rhaenys asked, her face full of both a smirk and surprise.
"It is my nickname for your son, Princess," he said as he walked over to embrace Rhaenys in a hug.
"You have grown, cousin. Almost taller than your brothers," Rhaenys said, looking at him with a grin as they disengaged.
"Truly already. I suspect I am still growing," he nodded pridefully.
"It is true, brother. You are taller than both of them. You have truly grown," Visenya said with a grin.
"Now let us depart. The rest should have gathered in the courtyard by now," Rhaenys announced.
"Very well. Lead the way, dear cousin," Aemon said as he gave her a smile.
Soon enough, they came to a wall about five meters in height with small but decorated gatehouses, the patterns upon them resembling the voyages of Corlys. In the center of each tower of the gatehouse was the sea green seahorse of House Velaryon.
To his left, he looked and saw the walkway of the pier and, beyond, the floodroad that led to the rest of Driftmark Isle.
As they walked up the stairs, he was bombarded with questions from Visenya. When he looked back at Laena, who walked beside Laenor, she too was listening attentively.
Aemon began retelling a few of his memories, one in particular. When he and Laenor had sailed on the Sunset Sea, and a seagull had emptied itself on Ser Wylard Manderley's head, making the man look like a grandparent, with his white hair. Laenor burst out laughing, and Laena held back a grin, as did Rhaenys.
"Oh, poor Wylard. He was always a funny man. But loyal to you," Visenya said with a laugh.
They passed through the second gate, the smaller wall that housed the castle of High Tide itself.
Then Laenor stepped forward and announced their arrival.
"Prince Aemon of House Targaryen and Stark, Prince of Seadragon Point, the White Dragon."
They all knelt. He was royalty, after all.
He sighed at the White Dragon title. It referenced Ghost and his strange resistance to the cold. In the far North, he had noticed the change as well. The cold felt part of him, no pain, merely a sensation that washed over him the way flames did.
"Please, all of you, rise. It is an honor to return to the Isle of Driftmark."
He turned toward Laena and took her hand.
"The home of my future wife and Princess of Seadragon Point," he announced, raising their hands high.
The crowd clapped, many glancing toward Laena, who was blushing deeply. He only grinned.
"Uhm…" Laenor cleared his throat after a moment. "I suppose you want to meet the rest of the family."
"Yes, of course. Sorry," Aemon replied.
"This is Vaemond Velaryon, our uncle."
Vaemond looked much like Corlys but with a less bulky build, still possessing the classic Velaryon features.
"My Prince, it is an honor. My nephew has told me much about you. It would be a privilege to know you better," the man said with a slight bow.
Aemon thought of how Vaemond had once tried to take Driftmark after Corlys was wounded, attempting to usurp the children of Rhaenyra and Laenor. But for now, he had done nothing wrong and remained a loyal member of House Velaryon. Perhaps a valuable ally in the future.
"It would be a pleasure. Perhaps we can meet in the yard tomorrow, Vaemond," he said.
"It would be an honor to spar with you, my Prince."
"These are my cousins, Vaemond's sons, Daeron and Daemion. Both destined to be great mariners like their father and uncle," Laenor said as he ruffled the boys' hair.
"My Prince," the two boys said as they bowed.
"Well, if you are anything like your cousin, uncle, and father, you will have a great future," Aemon said. Hoping privately that no one would see their tongues cut out in this life.
Soon after, he was introduced to the master at arms, the steward of House Velaryon, and several side branches of the ancient Valyrian family. He was surprised there were so many. He had been present during Gael's marriage to the Celtigars, and even then there had been a few lesser branches. Among the Targaryens, the most notable offshoot was House Baratheon. There were no others, aside from the dragonseeds, who still made him wonder whether his own father had sired some of them. But he doubted it. If Baelon had wished to remarry before his mother, he could have. Vissera had certainly been willing. And Aemon knew Baelon had always felt guilty about her death. If he hadn't refused her, she likely would not have died.
Yet all of that belonged to a past before he himself had ever existed. Unlike Gael's fate, a matter he and his mother could still change. Daemon's marriage to Rhea had already been set in motion before his birth. The betrothal agreement had been signed two years before his birth, and breaking it with an old and noble house like the Royces would have been an insult. His mother had tried to help Daemon, even spoke to Baelon about it, yet nothing they did managed to turn Daemon's mind.
He had seen Rhea Royce and never understood Daemon's disdain. She was a pretty woman, much like Ygritte, and like his mother. Not Valyrian in appearance, but she had the beauty of the First Men. His sisters, in truth, were a mix of both her sort of beauty and Valyrian sharpness.
His aunt, on the other hand, was the only one with confirmed bastards, bastards who had even taken noble names after being ennobled by their father, a Triarch of Volantis, though Aemon had forgotten which one.
After exchanging a few more polite words with those gathered, Aemon turned back to the crowd.
"I wish to show a few gifts for the Velaryon family, if all the kin would be so kind as to gather in the Hall of Nine."
Rhaenys Targaryen (107 A.C First Moon )
Driftmark - High Tight - Hall of Nine
She was happy. Her cousin had grown into a great man over the last five years since she had last seen him. It seemed he still held the same affection for her daughter as he had when they were younger. Laena, too, seemed flushed with excitement whenever he spoke to her. The same was true for him when Laena spoke, though he tried to hide it. Yet Rhaenys couldn't help being curious about the gift he had mentioned.
Traditionally, it would be her family presenting him with a dowry, but Aemon had never been one to uphold conventional expectations. He held more closely to the Old Gods than to the Seven. However, though her house was never devout in the Faith, they still kept certain traditions. Perhaps Princess Maegelle would have had something to say on that, she thought.
Her musings were interrupted when Aemon spoke.
"If everyone except the family may leave," Aemon commanded, his voice carrying the authority of a grown man. At once, all but the family and Ser Harrold, his sworn shield, exited the hall. From what she had gathered, Ser Harrold was like a father or uncle to Aemon, utterly loyal to him.
"Now that we are all here," Aemon continued, "most of you already know what discovery I made on Seadragon Point. For those who do not, I have rediscovered the art of forging Valyrian steel, as well as other things." His tone grew serious. "What I share here cannot be repeated. It will be made known to the court and the realm when we travel for the wedding and tourney. To prove this. Ser, if you please, unsheathe your sword."
Ser Harrold drew his blade, revealing a longsword with a bronze-and-dragonglass pommel and guard. Yet the most remarkable part was the blade itself, yellow in color, streaked with white, unmistakably Valyrian steel.
Her good-brother asked in awe, "How did you discover this secret where so many others have failed, my prince?"
Aemon replied, "The gods guide me in dreams, much like our ancestor Daenys did long ago." But the glint in his eyes told Rhaenys he wasn't speaking the whole truth. She decided she would ask him later for the full story.
Vaemond stepped forward, curiosity overcoming him. "And what of the stone carving you sent us? Does it follow the same method? It reminds me of the black stone of Dragonstone."
Aemon nodded. "That is a method I call stone welding. Two years ago, I burned a family alive because they broke their oaths to me. I made it clear: learn at my feet and be part of something the world has dreamed of for centuries. But break the trust I place in you, and I will pass judgment accordingly." Aemon stated this plainly.
The hall murmured. She already knew of this; Corlys had heard rumors in the small council.
"This is a power not seen since the Doom," Aemon continued, "and I will protect it from those who would misuse it, or drive us back into what Valyria once was. Yet enough of declarations. Let us move on to the gifts."
She glanced at her son, who was practically glowing with excitement.
"To commemorate my devotion to our family and the enduring ties between House Velaryon and my own," Aemon said, "I present this princely seahorse statue, crafted in the image of your house. I hope it will be a welcome addition to the Hall of Nine."
He and Laenor opened the chest, revealing a beautifully wrought seahorse. Gasps filled the hall.
"Laenor and I worked on this together as a gift for our families," Aemon explained proudly. "The seahorse is made of Valyrian steel, with dragonglass eyes and a base of drakestone."
"Thank you, betrothed, in the name of House Velaryon," Laena said, her purple eyes shining. "We accept this wondrous gift—a true future artifact for our house. It's a shame my father isn't here to receive it."
"You are welcome, my lovely betrothed. A gift for your house is never wasted. And as I said, the revelation of my discovery will take place in King's Landing. I expect this secret to remain within our trusted circle. I have heard that fiery death is not pleasant," Aemon added with firm authority.
"We shall do as you command, my prince. You have proven an honorable and loyal ally to our house. I, Vaemond of House Velaryon, ask to be your sworn sword. To join your retinue, to be your man." Vaemond dropped to one knee, sword in hand, stunning the entire hall.
She couldn't help thinking: What are you doing, Vaemond? Yet the idea of having more family surrounding her daughter when she wed did not seem entirely unwelcome.
Aemon responded, "I would accept your pledge, Ser, but I must first have your brother's approval and my future good-father's blessing. For now, accept my hand in friendship, Ser Vaemond." He extended his hand, and Vaemond clasped it as applause filled the hall.
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