A Prince of House Targaryen Chapter 79 (The Faith of The Seven) (Patreon)

Note: This Chapter takes place a Day after Tommen's Death and Robb's decision to make a plan against Jon.

Aemon

As the carriage glided along the bustling streets of King's Landing, the radiant Sun embraced the city in its golden warmth, casting a vibrant glow upon the ancient walls and cobblestone pathways. Nestled comfortably against the plush carriage seat, Aemon reveled in the gentle sway, feeling the rhythmic vibrations of the horses' hooves as they steadily propelled the carriage forward. With each deliberate step, the equine companions dug their hooves into the earth, displacing tiny flecks of mud that splattered across the surroundings as the rider let out a whistle, a signal to slow the pace.

Two Months had passed since the Tourney ended, and the city had a much better smell than he had expected. His big brother was the cause of that; because of him, small sewers had been built around the city for the bad smell to disappear.

After some talk, Aemon and the King would meet the High Septon to discuss the Marriage between Rhaenys and Aemon. Aegon was left to sit on the Iron Throne for today; he couldn't remember his brother looking so proud about something else in his life than when he sat on the throne for the first time and would rule until his father returned.

"How do you feel, big brother? Sitting on the Iron Throne."

"It feels like I'm sitting on top of the world." Aegon answered with a childish smile.

"On top of the world? Hope not. I don't see any goats to help you climb down, and I don't think Aegarax could help you climb down from up there either." Aemon japed; Aegon chuckled as he kept looking at the swords around him. '

Before they left the capital, Aemon heard words from the servants and soldiers. He heard them mentioning that a village nearby had been attacked two days ago. Lord Varys had reported that Claw Isle, the Castle of House Celtigar, had been attacked a week ago, apparently by pirates.

' "Can you tell us more, Lord Varys?" Rhaegar questioned with a deep frown. House Celtigar had its roots in Old Valyria, like House Velaryon, so an attack towards them was seen as a great insult to House Targaryen.

"I'm afraid not, many of my little birds had been butchered during the attack. Only two survived, but they speak of strange ships."

"Strange Ships? What do you mean, Lord Varys?"

"Not just ships, but they report the weather got worse out of nowhere a few minutes before the attack started, they say the weather got so bad, the archers couldn't see anything down below from the heavy rain." Varys answered, and for the first time, he looked genuinely concerned, something Aemon noticed right away.

"I'm sure it was just dumb luck. The weather doesn't just change like that." Jon Connigton said dismissively, but one person wasn't convinced.

"Maybe it wasn't just Dumb Luck as you called it, Lord Connington." Everyone turned to face Lord Lyman Darry.

"What makes you say that? Are you saying someone can control the weather somehow?" The Lord Connigton questioned with a snarl; the other Lord ignored the man and looked at The King.

"The weather around Dragonstone is always sunny most of the year, and for a storm like that to just show up right when this pirate ship attacked. From our reports, there was a lot of gold stolen from the Castle, but one thing in particular. They stole Sea's Blade, a Valyrian Steel Axe that House Celtigar had in possession for centuries."

"Lord Stannis." Rhaegar suddenly shouted; the man straightened himself up the moment the King called his name.

"You are the master of Ships. I want you to send a hundred ships in Claw Istle to investigate. Send your best man. I won't allow my Realm to be attacked by filthy pirates; I want those pirates found and for them to face justice, but make sure the captain has enough man; this can easily become a battle in the sea."

"In that case I will go there myself. I will lead my own man, your grace. You have my word. I will put to justice those that attacked House Celtigar." Stannis promised with a look of devotion.

After the Council Meeting ended. His father told him to prepare; within an hour, they would ride for The Great Sept of Baelor. '

Aemon looked at the people around the city. His uncle said the smell around the city used to be the same as diarrhea. The man was strange; since arriving in King's Landing, his antics had all changed overnight as if he was a completely different person now.

The man had rarely talked with Aemon and Val before arriving at King's Landing, and now, he greeted Aemon every time. The whores he had in bed every night had all disappeared, he no longer smelled of alcohol, and his grandmother had said that Viserys had started reading books once again.

His aunt had even warned him not to get angry if Viserys threw insults since he liked insulting, especially when he was drunk, as she called him.

"When Viserys is drunk. His tongue is more loose than a whore's dress." Daenerys had said with a smile one day when he and her were exploring the garden of King's Landing.

' "Daenerys, what can I do for you?" Aemon said with a smile, his aunt's face brightened upon hearing his words.

"I would appreciate a walk in the garden, dear Nehphew."

"Who am I to deny a request from a beautiful princess like you," Aemon said with a charming smile; as she offered her arm to him, he took her arm, allowing her to look at him from very up close.

"Your eyes are quite beautiful, nephew." She said, looking directly at his grey eyes.

"You're quite beautiful too, aunt. Anyone who will take your hand will be very lucky." Aemon said with courtesy as they strolled around the garden. The place was like a maze, but Aemon could tell she knew where they were going. This was the first time he explored the gardens of King's Landing. He still remembered the little heated argument between his aunt and Val. He just hoped that it wouldn't go any further.

Since arriving here, Daenerys's mood has occasionally changed, especially when Cannibal gets angry with Aegarax and Morning.

"I didn't have a chance to congratulate you on your victory in the Joust." Daenerys spoke with a bright smile as they stepped into the garden corridor. The gentle touch of sunlight filtered through countless petite apertures scattered across the verdant haven, casting a pathway illuminated by ethereal rays of light. Amidst the scenic splendor, the intoxicating fragrances of the blossoms permeated the air. Each inhalation revealed a symphony of scents.

"Thank you, Aunt. I still think Aegon deserved that day more than me."

"Do flowers grow in North, nephew?" Daenerys asked, smiling, turning to look at him.

"The North has glass gardens, Aunt. And blue flowers always grow in Winterfell," Aemon said, with a distant look, his smile faded just a little—the North. Only now, he realized that he hadn't thought much of them since his arrival in King's Landing.

All his attention had gone into learning things needed to do his job as Prince with the Maester. His father had ensured the Maester would teach him everything he needed to know to do his job properly. The only time he had thought of the North was when he made plans to bring the Freefolk South of the Wall. He wanted to bring them as soon as possible. Still, his father said it would take time to prepare the many ships they needed to bring them South of the Wall. He told him that he had already sent a raven to Winterfell and The Wall about their arrival and their desire to bring the Freefolk South of the Wall, not to mention the amount of gold coins they would need to spend for all the ships, the people that would work on them. But one thing his father had made clear to Val about the Free Folk.

"Val. I'm glad you have brought happiness to my son, but I need you to understand one thing. Your people want to be South of the Wall and have lands of their own. I believe there's enough land between The Castle Black and Last Hearth castle, but that land is under my rule as is every piece of land in Westeros, and as King I have promised to protect my people and the Realm. Your people, if they want passage to the South. They will bend the knee to me, and sworn their loyalty to me. They will obey the King's Law. I won't force you to change your customs, your traditions, but not force this same customs on other people that are not part of the Free Folk, as long as your people obey those laws then we all will be alright, one day the Free Folk might even have their own Castle and house there. Is everything clear Princess Val."

"Yes, your grace. Our people will bend the knee. I give you my word."

Since arriving here, Val and Rhaenys had grown even closer to one another. The two liked to spend time together, and since it had already been decided that he would marry Rhaenys. Val wanted to get to know her new 'sister' as she called her when they were alone.

As they emerged from the corridor garden, Aemon found himself squinting his eyes to adjust to the sudden burst of sunlight in the small clearing. In the heart of this space stood a fountain. The intricately designed sculpture depicted a cherubic child with delicate wings extending his hand toward a sorrowful young girl. The basin of the fountain shimmered with crystal-clear water, revealing a stunning array of flowers that had descended to rest at the bottom. A symphony of colors unfolded before Aemon's eyes as he looked at the ethereal petals ranging from purest white to fiery red, midnight black to vibrant yellow, and countless other hues.

"Once a year, people come here to put a flower in the water and stay here until the flower sinks to the bottom. They say is to have good luck for the rest of the year. I used to stay here for hours with Rhaenys." Daenerys spoke with a hint of melancholy in her voice, her eyes welling up, but she quickly looked away.

"It's wonderful, Aunt," Aemon said sincerely.

"My muna showed me this place; she used to tell me that a long time ago, two lovers met here in secret. But I think my muna was talking about her lover knight," Daenerys said with her own smile, showing her beautiful teeth. She had to admit that Aemon had perhaps the most beautiful smile she had ever seen, just the way he talked. His voice had strength in it, and his eyes.

Aemon sat at the fountain's edge, the water gurgling behind him, with Daenerys adjusting her dress before sitting beside him.

"Can you sing a song for me, sweet nephew?" She requested with a bright smile. Her hands were clutched together in her lap.

"Of course, Aunt." Aemon accepted, his smile wavered a little, hearing the sounds of birds chirping all around them.

"Like the scarlet night veiling the dark

You can hide your fear,

can lie, my dear

Just dreaming forever like this.

Those bloodstained wings, spread them wide!

Like a fallen angel washed away by the wind of time and then fell.

Into the starry night just like a goddess.

Embracing me tight for eternity.

Fly into heaven

What's the lie?

What's the truth?

What to believe?

In my life

See the flowers breathing in the rain

Try growing to the edge of light

It's so far away to reach out to the sky

I'll seize, I'll seize the roses with my wings

We'll fly

Like a fallen angel washed away by the wind of time, then fell

Into the starry night just like a goddess embracing me tight for eternity

We'll fly away. We'll find a way

You can hide your fear, can lie, my dear

We'll see the end. We'll be the end

Embracing me tight for eternity, fly into heaven

Clapping Aemon heard her clapping after he finished the song.

"Even my brother's voice doesn't match yours." Daenerys complimented, wiping away tears with a napkin, her eyes a little red.

"My aunt is too kind to me," Aemon said. A bird flew just before his eyes, landing on the hand of the little boy made of stone and drinking water with his beak.

"I only speak the truth, Aemon." Daenerys insisted before standing on her feet.

"Shall we continue?" Daenerys said, offering her hand to him. Aemon grabbed it before they kept walking around the garden.

Later

"And this one?"

"That's a Dragonheart. I've been growing these for about three years now." Daenerys stated rather proudly. She always loved flowers; their colors were beautiful. She had been only six years old when she had grown her first flower by herself. After growing her first flower, Septa taught her how to grow a flower properly and how to know when to cut a sick branch that might infect the whole flower.

"I've heard of these; they only grow in humid areas in Essos?"

"They do, but it's not the heat that makes them grow. It's the soil." she pointed to the black dirt surrounding the flower. "My big brother gave me the seeds and a sack of ground they had dug up from Dorne; apparently, that's the closest thing we have to the areas they usually grow in Essos."

"You're quite knowledgeable on these things, aren't you?"

"I told you, didn't I?! There's no gardener in King's Landing better than me." she smiled, remembering the many times she and Ser Darry had spent planting all of them.

"I heard the Water Garden has the best flowers in Westeros," Aemon said, remembering Arianne boasting about the Water Garden, saying he would fall in love with the place and would never want to leave if he ever visited.

"Yes, I can try to grow flowers for the rest of my life, but it still won't compare to the Water Gardens."

"I still think your garden is beautiful." Aemon said.

"Not at all," Daenerys commented. "The flowers in the Water Gardens are... extravagant. Luxurious, to say the least. You'll never find larger and more flamboyant pairs of fauna in all of Westeros. Yet beauty, I find, is often seen in more simple things." She stopped in her tracks before turning to look at Aemon with a sly, sultry smile curved on her lips, a mischievous spark dancing in her gaze. Her delicate finger, adorned with a shimmering silver ring, delicately grazed the fabric of Aemon's chest. And then, with a tantalizing slowness, her pink tongue glided sensually across her lips at the thought of him, naked and in her bed.

"So you're saying you like my flowers better because they're simpler." she teased her sweet nephew.

"They're beautiful, and the aroma is quite pleasant." he showed his hand towards the five little Dragonhearts that had all sprouted. They were crimson flowers with a circular shape consisting of five blood-red petals with the stem coming from the middle. "You can have as many flowers as you want, in as fancy of a castle as you want, yet what does that mean when they were all done by someone else's hands."

"Have you ever planted a garden?"

"I have—a pair of blue winter roses. I would take care of them, water them, and tend to their roots. When they had finally bloomed, it felt as if I... I don't know. They felt like Home."

"They are popular in the North, I heard. Every time we would have a tourney, they would make a crown of them to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty." In the South, they were always so rare in the South, which is why the tourneys had always prized them so much, but in Winterfell, they felt a part of everyday life for the tenders.

"They're loved in the North. When they had finally fully grown, I tried to make a crown of them, but it did not go well." Daenerys giggled. "But I managed to save one. When blue roses are plucked, they turn cold, yet the petals only wither months later if not watered, so they retain their color and shape for much longer."

"I envy the girl you gave that rose to."

"You assume I gave it away?"

"Don't play coy with me. Why else would you put so much time into a rose bush?"

Aemon huffed in amusement as they looked at the red flowers before them. "You are right in one regard. I did give it away, eventually. But those days I spent tending to them all were ones well spent in my eyes."

The dark-haired boy observed the other flowers with his grey eyes. Daenerys had thought very little of it at first, always thinking that she was boring her nephew, but soon she learned it was not the case, simply how he always looked. They sat there in silence, and while Aemon continued to stare at the flowers haphazardly, she could not help but stare at her nephew's face.

"You mentioned the roses got colder once you plucked them," Daenerys said to end the silence. "Here, let me show you something." She gently grabbed her nephew's hand and guided it just above the flower.

"Warm..." Aemon murmured, his brow raising slightly.

"The flower emits warmth from its petals. Apparently, they dated back all the way to ancient Valyria, and dragons liked their scent."

"Interesting."

"During the night, the warmness attracts Dragonflies and Lantern Bugs. It gives quite the sight when the moon comes out."

"Never would have thought of you as the type of girl to sneak out during nights."

"Please, I see it clearly from the balcony in my room. And if I want to sneak out. I can just order a few guards to walk with me."

"And grandmother is very supportive of it, I'm sure."

Daenerys smiled. It was not as if her mother had an iron grip on her or her siblings.

After a while, their little trip to Daenerys's private gardens was over, and they walked along the more public areas of the Garden. They were eventually sitting down in a pavilion not too far from King's Landing's own godswood. It was a small acre of the old elm, alder, and black cottonwood trees, yet she never really visited it, at least by herself.

As they sat beside one another, at a small table between them, a servant brought a plate of sweetcakes and two cups of tea. Aemon was very fond of tea, it seemed, while Daenerys liked to indulge herself in sweets every now and again.

"How do you like King's Landing? The servants are gossiping about you." Daenerys asked coyly, taking a bite from a delicious biscuit melting in her mouth. She let out a pleasant sound from her throat. It tasted delicious.

"I didn't take you one to listen to gossip," Aemon said, amused. Daenerys felt her cheeks feeling warmer, the way the sunlight fell on him just right, his dark hair looked like a dark crown, and his eyes, she felt like she was drowning in them, and she never wanted to come out, her eyes fell on his lips, she wondered how they tasted, as sweet as the biscuit on her mouth, or more.

Rhaenys, despite being a Targaryen, was a Dornish too, so she often talked about how good Aemon was in bed when they were alone. Everything Daenerys heard made her want him even more, but she knew he would marry Rhaenys.

She knew well enough that Rhaegar would never approve of it for Aemon to have three wives. Neither would Elia and the same could always be said for The Faith of the Seven. She could feel Cannibal returning from his hunt, landing just outside King's Landing wall with animals he had captured—horses, bears, and sheep from a nearby village.

Suddenly, she felt a flare of anger, but she knew she wasn't the defenseless Princess, not anymore. She had a dragon, and whoever had anything against her desires, then Cannibal could easily change their minds.

"I don't, sweet Nephew, but when all the servants talk about only one thing, you tend to hear a thing or two," Daenerys said as her slender fingers played with her silver hair.

"What things?"

"Well, they say you're the Father of Dragons, yours was first to appear, and the other dragons appeared only because of you. Some say they can hear Val's screams of pleasure all the way in the city." Daenerys teased more; her smile faltered slightly at the mention of the wildling woman. Just because she had married a Real Prince of House Targaryen, she thought that was enough for her to be on the same level as them. They were dragons, and Val was nothing but a leech with a pretty face, but still a leech.

"They heard her screams all the way to the city. I wonder how I haven't gotten deaf yet." Aemon japed. Daenerys burst out laughing while imagining him doing something similar to her.

Aemon knew not all screams were from Val; thankfully, Rhaenys's screams were usually silenced by Val's lips or cunt.

"Thank you for spending so much of your time with me, Aunt. It was a Pleasure." Aemon said with courtesy, bowing his head, his hair falling in front of his face, blocking half of his face.

Daenerys looked at him from up close. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen someone as handsome as Aemon. Loras Tyrell was perhaps the only other male she had seen that came close to her nephew, but Loras preferred spears.

Daenerys looked dejected since their time together seemed to have come to an end before she quickly put up a smile. "The pleasure was mine, sweet Nephew." She said with a grin and fluttered her eyelashes, looking at him flirtingly.

Aemon saw her face lean a bit closer to his, her breath tingling on his face; her hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, her fingers touching his skin.

"Jon." Daenerys pulled away and glared when she saw Val approaching, the only one who still called Aemon by his bastard name.

"Val!" Daenerys watched, and his face brightened up instantly at the sight of her before kissing Val on the lips. Dany looked away at the sight of affection between them, especially when Aemon kissed her belly, knowing a son or a daughter was growing inside.

"What brought you here?"

"Rhaenys and Prince Aegon want your presence in the Hall. You too, Princess Daenerys." '

Aemon escaped his thoughts once the carriage stopped before the Great Sept of Baelor. It was a long climb to the hill; the carriage needed to stop several times, but they finally reached the top. The place was crowded with thousands of common people who had come to pray, a sea of endless faces praying in union as the High Septon spoke from atop a balcony; his words were heard loudly and clearly.

Aemon, the King, and the three Kingsguards were led inside through another door used only by the High Septon, the Silent Sisters, the Holy Brothers, and the Royal Family.

The Great Sept of Baelor is named after the septon-king Baelor the Blessed. It is located at the top of Visenya's Hill, surrounded by a white marble plaza. It features a statue of Baelor, which stands tall and serene upon his plint. Large gardens, capable of holding hundreds of people, surround the Sept.

The Sept is an impressive marble dome structure with seven crystal towers, each of which has bells. The lofty dome is made of glass gol,d, and crystal. Around the doors leading into the building is a raised marble pulpit from which a septon can address a gathering crowd. Past the doors is the entrance hall of the Sept, which is known as the Hall of Lamps. Those entering the Hall walk beneath suspended globes of colored leaded glass.

From the entrance hall, through the double doors, is the sept-proper, with seven broad aisles which meet beneath the dome. It has seven large transepts. Its floors are made of marble, and great windows of leaded, colored glass, and the seven altars are set about with candles. Different altars are used for different ceremonies, depending on their purpose. Several sets of doors lead into the sept-proper; septons use the Father's Doors, septas the Mother's Doors, and silent sisters the Stranger's Steps.

Below the Sept are tombs where kings are laid to rest, cells for penitents, and vaults that hold costly vestments, rings, crystal crowns, and other treasures of the Faith. Thrice yearly, septons from Baelor's Sept create heraldic drawings and illuminations for the White Book of the Kingsguard.

As he walked inside, Aemon still felt bitter that his father wanted to meet the High Septon of the Faith on the Seven instead of ordering him to come to the Red Keep, but his father said that Aemon needed to make a good impression, saying this would be his first time entering a Sept of the Seven.

Once he walked inside through the other door, Aemon could hear the place booming with people; their voices echoed through the walls like horns of War. Aemon now understood why his father respected the Seven to a degree. King's Landing's population was said to be around one million people, and of them, only one hundred of them were people of importance, people who had any land or power of their own.

Everyone else was a commoner, even if The Faith of the Seven no longer had Faith Militant since the days of Maegor and Jaehaerys the First. All the people inside this Sept, and the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands outside, praying right at this moment, all of them would gladly throw themselves to the Dragons if it meant fighting for The Faith of the Seven.

The Storming of the Dragon Pit was clear proof of that; it showed just how far commoners were willing to go to fight for what they believed was right. The people who stormed the Dragon Pit that fateful night were commoners, not soldiers, yet they attacked the Dragons without fear, using whatever weapon they could get their hands on. That day showed that Faith still had strength over Westeros even if they no longer had a Faith Militia.

Aemon saw holy brothers walking across the Hall in their grey robes; they looked like beggars. The Three Kingsguards were keeping pace with them. Soon, they reached the main part of the building, under the Great Sept's lofty dome of glass, gold, and crystal. The sunlight cast a giant seven-star on the floor, and in the center stood the High Septon surrounded by a crowd of people. The man had said his speech on the balcony, and the people outside had started scattering away like ants.

The High Septon is a small, thin, grey-haired man with a lean, sharp face that is heavily lined. His grey-brown beard is short and closely trimmed, and he wears his hair tied in a hard knot behind his head. He was the thinnest man Aemon had ever seen; he looked as if he was starving.

What caught Aemon off guard was his choice of clothing. Unlike previous High Septons, he does not wear rich robes or elaborate crowns of crystal and spun gold. Instead, he wears a simple undyed wool tunic that goes to his ankles. The man looked as poor as one could look, but Aemon didn't believe the act for a second.

One thing he liked about being raised as a bastard was what he could notice that others couldn't; he knew the man wore those clothes to appear as if he was on the same level as even the poorest person in King's Landing. The common people would see him as one of them and would be more willing to fight, grab torches, and even use their fists to fight for a High Septon who knew how to fool people.

Soon, the crowd walked away, leaving the High Septon still standing in the center of the Seven Stars. He remained alone as the King and Aemon approached; the man had no guards nearby; all he needed was a man with a good knife, and he would die.

The High Septon seemed to be old, older than the King, perhaps in his early sixties. He wore no armor, no chainmail under his clothes, and Aemon could see no hidden blades on his robes; he had lived with the Wildling for years, he knew where to look for hidden blades, and the man in front of him was as defenseless as a newborn baby.

"Your grace, it's good to see you again." The man said, his long robes cleaning the floor behind him as he approached them.

"High Septon, it's good to see you in good health." The King greeted him, shaking his hand.

"Your words are appreciated, your grace. The gods have watched over me again, I had no worries." The High Septon said before he turned to look at Aemon.

"You must be, Prince Aemon Targaryen, my dear child."

"I'm not your child, High Septon." Aemon almost growled, earning a look of disapproval from his father, who stepped forward, but the old Septon smiled in slight amusement.

"I meant no disrespect, your grace, but in this place, under this roof, we all are equal to the Seven. Commoners, Lords, Knights, Captains, Princes, Kings and High Septon. We all are one here." Aemon almost snarled at what he was hearing, but this time, he restrained himself from saying anything to this man. His father wouldn't be happy if he let his mouth run too much.

"High Septon, may we talk privately."

"This place is watched by the gods, your grace. Everything you want to say can be said here, under the light of the Seven." The High Septon said, his eyes seemed cloudy. Aemon knew they weren't really alone; he could see the Silent Sisters and the Holy Brothers, but he could hear something else: a crow letting out a cry.

"I understand, but our discussion is important." Rhaegar insisted with a slightly higher voice.

"As you order, your grace. But your Kingsguards will stay here. Blade is forbidden inside my solar. I hope you can respect that." Aemon knew the man was testing the waters to see what got him angry and got him to react. Calling him 'Dear Child' was the first, but Aemon knew better than to let his emotions run freely.

"Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur, and Ser Darry. Stay here until we return." The King commanded; the three Kingsguards didn't seem pleased but stayed right where they were without saying a word.

"Follow me, your grace." With each deliberate step, their feet echoing on the worn stone, they descended a spiral staircase that wound its way further and further into the depths of the earth. The flickering glow of torchlight cast eerie shadows upon the cold, weathered walls, revealing the intricate craftsmanship of the stone and mortar that held the stairs together. Aemon couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation as they ventured deeper, the staircase seemingly stretching on indefinitely. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the bottom, greeted by a long corridor stretching out before them. The air grew heavy and stagnant. At the far end of the corridor stood a decaying door, its wood warped and covered in layers of dust.

Aemon noticed that another staircase led further down; he figured those led to the cells down below, where the sinners are put in cells and forced to confess their sins.

"Prince Aemon. I'm very pleased to hear of your marriage with Lady Val. I'm sure she will bring you many great sons and beautiful daughters." The High Septon said with the faintest smile; his voice echoed like a horn this deep underground.

Aemon wondered why the High Septon said that he had married her following the tradition of the Old Gods, not the Seven, so why was he bringing it up? He knew he needed to say something, whether he liked it or not; the man held great power in the Realm.

"Thank you, High Septon. Your kind words are appreciated. Val is a good wife."

"So I heard that many would tend to disagree because of where she comes from, but we don't choose who we love and in the end. We all are humans made of flesh and bones, one day. We all leave this world, and we can only do what we believe is right." Aemon furrowed a brow as they were lead inside the solar of the high Septon.

The place seemed more like a large cell than a solar for the high septon; there was no carpet, the dust hugged the walls like paint, and they were so deep underground that the air felt heavier and smelled like dirt. Aemon was thankful he never felt the cold; his father's ears had turned red, and their breaths were suddenly visible inside the solar.

"Now. Your grace, tell me what brought you here." The old man said with what could be described as a smile; he didn't sit down. Instead, he looked at them with his cloudy eyes like dirt water.

"Your High Holiness. As you know, my son, and heir, Aegon Targaryen will marry Lady Margaery Tyrell within a year." His father started; the High Septon looked pleased to hear his words.

"I heard so myself. Lady Margaery is a great maiden for your son. I pray their life is full of love and prosperity."

"I'm pleased to hear such words from you High Septon. But I will soon announce to the Realm that I have decided to marry my daughter, Rhaenys Targaryen, to my son, Aemon Targaryen, as a second wife." Upon hearing those words, the High Septon's face went as pale as could get, and the smile disappeared before shaking his head.

"Absolutely Not." Aemon felt his anger flare up at the words he just heard. This man thought he could deny them like that; he had a Dragon large enough to burn down— Aemon quickly got rid of such thoughts. That would be a good way to have the entire Realm against him like they did with Maegor.

"Having two wives is out of the question. The Seven has blessed House Targaryen's marriages between brothers and sisters since King Jaehaerys. If Prince Aemon wasn't already wedded to Lady Val, then I would personally bless this marriage, but I'm afraid that cannot be done."

"My father married my mother and Queen Elia." Aemon reminded him he was close to using his hidden blade; perhaps a threat would change his mind, but that wouldn't be necessary. Aegarax was far more fearsome than any knife, or Valyrian Steel could ever be.

"Yes, Septon Torheit performed the marriage without anyone's approval." The High Septon said with bitterness, his eyes flickered at the King with clear disapproval.

A Septon of the Seven had the right to perform marriages between two people, and he could perform them as long as said marriage didn't break any rules of the Seven. Rhaegar had known Septon Torheit and had convinced him to perform the marriage in secret, but knowing full well that such an act would be seen as treason by the High Septon and the Faith of the Seven. His friend lost his right to be a Septon shortly after the War ended, and Rhaegar never saw him again.

"But I'm afraid Septon Torheit is dead?" His words made Rhaegar stiff for a brief moment.

"Dead?" Rhaegar questioned, feeling guilty at what he had just heard.

"Yes. Unfortunately, shortly after the rebellion, he threw himself from a tower." Aemon didn't believe a single word he said. According to the rules of the Seven, polygamy was considered a sin, and performing such a marriage was breaking the vow and betraying the Gods.

"But, you came here for my approval, for a Septon to perform the marriage between Prince Aemon and Princess Rhaenys. I'm afraid that will never be approved. You can try to—persuade Septons to perform it, but they would never agree to this," The High Septon said without blinking; Aemon was already fed up with him. He was a Targaryen; their words were Law. Who does this worm think he is?

Suddenly, a roar was heard outside, despite being deep underground. Aegarax's roar was heard loud and clear. Aemon knew his father gave him a disapproving look, and the High Septon smiled; he seemed not bothered by the roar outside.

"I am well aware of your— beast. Your grace, but you seem to have mistaken me for a green boy. Your dragon can roar all day long, and I won't change my mind. You can have him burn me alive, and I will accept my Faith. You can threaten to burn down the entire Sept of Bealor and I won't move. If the Seven that are One have decided that my time has come, then I will accept The Stranger with open arms." The man said those words without blinking once, looking straight at the Prince's eyes, making it clear he meant every word he said.

Aemon knew the man had no fear in his eyes; he had fought and killed many men. Many begged for mercy, but the High Septon's eyes showed no fear. Either he was mad or just a fool, Aemon didn't know.

Aemon realized that fear would not work with him. If he killed him, his name would be remembered the same as that of Maegor Targaryen's, 'The Cruel.' People around Westeros would fear him; people would want him gone, and even his father and Queen Elia would not approve of him doing something that drastic.

Aemon knew that a marriage following the Valyrian customs would not be recognized in Westeros because it Followed the Seven and The North followed the Old Gods, but Aemon knew there were other ways to get what he wanted.

A man like him, based on his clothes, Aemon knew he wasn't one to be convicted with gold.

"Perhaps there can be a compromise then, something the Seven needs." Aemon offered before his father could say something. The High Septon had a tiny smile on his face that disappeared as soon as it appeared.

"Yes. If you do something for the Faith. I Will personally bless your marriage to Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Two days ago, there was an attack on the village near King's Landing." The words confused Aemon; he wondered why the High Septon was bringing this up and what this attack had to do with the Faith.

"Attack?" The King questioned firmly; suddenly, he spoke like a true King as he stepped forward.

"Yes, your grace. A little boy is the only survivor, I'm afraid. He says a Black Dragon ate all the sheep and horses they had before burning the entire village." The High Septon said with a deep frown on his face.

Cannibal! Aemon thought, knowing right away which dragon was responsible. Aegarax was as white as snow; Morning was pink, and Silverwing was silver. So that left only Cannibal.

"High Septon, be careful. Choose your words wisely, you are talking about the sigil of my house." The King spoke, looming over The High Septon, but the older man showed no sign of fear despite the King being taller and full of muscles.

"My apologies, your grace. I didn't mean to insult you, but I'm afraid the boy's words are to be believed. He was found with half of his face burned, his body had burns everywhere." The High Septon explained before looking at Prince Aemon.

"The Dragons are power and strength, but they are destruction too. The commoners are afraid of them. Westeros hasn't seen them for over a century now. And a month after they arrived here. One of them is already responsible for destroying a village." The High Septon said grimly, looking at Aemon as if he was responsible for the lives lost. But he wasn't. If Cannibal was truly responsible, then he would deal with him.

"Show me this kid you speak of; I want to see it with my own eyes." Aemon suddenly ordered as he looked the High Septon dead in the eye.

"Of course, your grace." Their walk upstairs was silent. Aemon couldn't stop thinking about this incident. Did Cannibal really do that? Did he slaughter an entire village for food?

"Aemon. I can't say for sure, but I won't put it past him to do something like that." Aegarax suddenly spoke in his mind.

"Why don't you then? You have been with me since I freed you. You could have attacked any village you wanted. So what stopped you?" Aemon questioned; he wanted to know what made Cannibal and Aegarax different from one another.

"Because I was raised that way. There's a reason I can speak the common tongue. When you first released me from that ice prison. I didn't remember much from my past; I thought you were my first rider. But slowly, I have regained memories of my past. My old rider, yes, he taught me the Common Tongue. He taught me not to harm humans but to find my food somewhere else. As for Morning, I think she simply doesn't see humans as good food and prefers Fish instead. Dragons are smart enough to know what to hunt; Morning and Silverwing know that attacking humans without being provoked will only get them into unnecessary trouble, so they would much rather simply hunt other animals."

"Your previous rider taught you the common tongue? Who was he?" Aemon couldn't help but ask; he wondered how one can teach a dragon another language.

"Yes, he taught me, but I don't remember how exactly, before that. I only knew the one language that all dragons understand. Dragon's Tongue, or as you Targaryens call it. Valyrian." His dragon explained; now Aemon understood why his dragon could speak the common tongue, but there was one thing he still didn't understand.

"What about Cannibal? He used to consume little dragons and dragon eggs. Why did he stop?"

"Aemon, trust me when I say that he didn't stop; why do you think he's aggressive towards me and Morning? He considers himself as more powerful and older. So our presence in his territory is not something he appreciates, but that can be ignored, but I believe he wants to eat me and Morning." Aemon felt a flare of anger, remembering when Cannibal had first attacked them before Daenerys 'tamed' him. He could almost imagine it, Cannibal feasting on Aegarax's corpse.

"I still don't understand why he seeks out Dragon meat? I don't think I have ever heard of another Dragon eating other Dragons besides Cannibal?"

"Dragons tend to avoid eating their own kind, but there's a reason why. As you know, Dragond are creatures of magic. They always have been, this allows us to breathe flames. A long time ago, there used to be a group of people who consumed Dragon Hearts in pursuit of power. The children of these people were born unusual, with dragon scales, and some with tails. Some said the Valyrians came from these people, but I'm afraid I was frozen when the First Long Night ended. So I can't know for sure."

"Wait? Are you saying that?"

"Cannibal consumes other Dragons because it makes him stronger, and more powerful. If a Dragon consumes another dragon, their fire breath grows hotter, and their scales become tougher. Why do you think Cannibal can breathe Wildfire? Not only that, but a Dragon can live longer. That's why Shrykos was almost unstoppable."

Aemon didn't like what he heard; Cannibal was becoming increasingly dangerous. If his aunt couldn't find a way to calm him down, then he would kill that dragon himself if necessary. He wouldn't allow someone like him to ruin his family. He knew his aunt would hate his guts if he killed Cannibal, but if there was really no other choice, then he would endure Daenerys's hate.

Aemon remembered what he had read about Cannibal in the books about Dragons; it was said that he only ate eggs and newborn dragons, but near the end of the Dance, the villagers reported that he had started attacking older Dragons until one day he attacked Grey Ghost, a Dragon who was believed to have been at least thirty years old.

"Shrykos. You mentioned his name before. Who was he?"

"He was a monster. I don't remember everything, but I remember him. He was larger than any other Dragon. His scales were made of something unbreakable. You might think that me and Cannibal are big Dragons. Shrykos would make me look like a newborn, and he was the other dragon that consumed other Dragons. But unlike Cannibal, this one wasn't afraid to hunt down dragons who were older than him. I don't know how many he hunted down and consumed, but with how big he became. I would say he alone might be responsible for the deaths of one thousand dragons eight thousand years ago."

Aemon almost froze when he heard the number. The thought of a dragon like this one existing was terrifying, but he sighed in relief, knowing this dragon must have died long ago.

"Well, we are lucky that he is dead... Right Aegarax?"

"...Yes."

Soon, they were led outside of the Sept of Baelor. Aegarax had landed near the hill; the High Septon didn't seem bothered by the sight of the large dragon who could kill him as easily as a fly.

Soon, they arrived at one of the Caring Houses that were built around King's Landing. Those houses hired people who knew how to heal people. Common people could go to those houses and be treated, only paying one bronze coin.

Upon entering inside, the place was booming with people, but the many guards cleared a way for them. The High Septon led them to one bed on the far side of the room on the second floor.

In the room, a young boy lay motionless upon the worn-out bed, his frail body barely clinging to life. The air was heavy with the stench of death and decay. Half of his body had transformed into a grotesque canvas of darkness. Deep, jagged cracks marred his tender skin, oozing crimson liquid that pooled around him like a macabre offering. This boy reminded him of Bran. As Aemon's gaze lingered upon the boy's face, a tangle of dark hair left untouched on one side, memories of Arya flooded his mind. The boy's left arm now resembled a charred stick. The bones of his face peeked through the cracks in his skin. And in place of his left eye, a void, a hollow abyss that seemed to echo the pain and suffering he had endured. How was this kid still breathing?

"This boy was found wandering outside of city gates aimlessly; no one knows how he managed to walk all the way over here and when questioned. He said that a black dragon destroyed the village." The High Septon said as he sat beside the kid, his hands grasping the young boy's healthy right hand.

"I will stay here with him tonight. Someone must hear his final words, but Prince Aemon, will you allow this to happen again."

"No. I'm riding to the village right now."

"Aemon?!"

"I want to see it for myself. Aegarax will know if a dragon was there." Aemon said the last words with a whisper; his father seemed conflicted before jerking his head towards Arthur.

"Take twenty soldiers with you."

Later - Night

Arthur's voice echoed through the crisp night air, resonating with a sense of urgency as he called out to Aemon, "Your grace, there!" The group galloped down the verdant slopes of a gentle hill, their steeds thundering beneath them. In the distance, a mere kilometer away, the haunting remnants of a once thriving village beckoned to them, its skeletal structures shrouded in an ethereal mist. Wisps of smoke billowed from the charred ruins. Aemon spurred his horse onward, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on the desolate landscape. Above them, Aegarax soared through the night sky; he surveyed the area below. The full moon cast a glow upon the place.

As Aemon cautiously ventured further into the desolate scene, the smell caused his nose to wrinkle in distaste. The putrid stench of decay permeated the air. The houses were destroyed, their roofs caved in and resting precariously atop the ruins. Everywhere he looked, scorch marks marred the landscape. As his gaze wandered, Aemon's heart sank further. The skeletal remains of animals and humans were strewn haphazardly. The air buzzed with the frenzied activity of rats and worms, already feasting on the macabre banquet before them. Yet, as Aemon approached, they scattered in a frenzied panic.

As Aemon gazed into the charred landscape, his eyes noticed the scorched trees, their skeletal remains reaching toward the sky. Not far from him, a stone, its surface bearing dark marks. Aemon couldn't help but wonder at the intense heat that must have caused even this stone to melt ever so slightly. The once lush grass, now reduced to a barren wasteland, had been consumed by flames, leaving behind nothing but a desolate expanse of scorched earth.

"Aegarax, you said you would be able to know. Tell me, was Cannibal here." Aemon demanded with growing anger. In the mud was a human leg, a small one. He felt his throat go dry but waited for his dragon to answer.

"Aemon, his smell is all over this place. I can't know for sure when, but Cannibal was definitely here." Aemon felt his throat go dry, but his eyes caught sight of something that made his body freeze. Just a little further away, giant dragon footprints were on the ground.

His soldiers kept looking all over the place, but they couldn't find anyone who was still alive. Aemon didn't know who else to blame but Cannibal. Did he attack this place because he was hungry? But he must have known better. Did Cannibal do this on purpose to get a reaction?

Suddenly, in front of his eyes, something dropped slowly, falling on top of his black glove. It was a snowflake.

"Your grace, it's snowing." One shouted. Everyone looked up at the sky. Aemon looked up, and as he expected, it had started snowing.

"Don't worry, it's probably just a fake winter." One soldier said.

"Today is my birthday; they say it is bad luck to start snowing the same day." Another said.

Aemon watched in silence for the longest time. It was too early to start snowing in the South. Did something happen? Suddenly, he fell on his knees. Pain. Too Much Pain. He was burning; his entire body was on fire, and he let out a scream of pain.

"Your Grace!" He heard multiple voices; he breathed heavily as the pain engulfed him; his skin felt like it was slowly falling off, and he heard the ground shake as Aegarax landed beside him.

"Aemon. What is happening? Why are you screaming?"

He felt the pain slowly fade away; his eyes focused on his hands. There was no fire anywhere. He wasn't the one burning, but why did it feel so real... Suddenly, he saw a flash of Ghost running away from a blast of fire.

"Ghost. We need to save him!!" Aemon shouted as he quickly rushed towards Aegarax.

From Who?

"Cannibal is Chasing After Him..."

In Chapter 68, it is brought up that Cannibal is Shrykos's offspring, so that's why Cannibal wants to consume other dragons like Shrykos did.

So, Ghost is in danger, but why would Cannibal want to attack a Direwolf? Do you think Shrykos is still alive somehow? Euron is making his moves, and the Horn of Winter is in Sam's Hand. Daemon Blackfyre will appear in the next chapter, as will Euron, Aemon, and Robb.