Chapter 11.

A/N:

Hello, my lovely degenerates! Just a quick note this time. As you have noticed, my updates are a bit slower than before. There are two reasons for that. 

Reason one: My work takes up a lot of my time, A LOT. Most of my chapters are written on the way to and back from work because I barely have any time at all to even sleep after I get home. 

Reason two: It takes time to search, think, and edit the chapters. I try to keep an average of 2-3k words per chapter, and that takes time and effort. So, I apologize if I can't keep a daily release schedule. 

I'll try to stockpile them on the weekends and mass release some if I can, but for now, expect something like 3-4 chapters per week.

Anyway, don't forget to send me stones and leave a review. It helps not only with visibility but also keeps me motivated to write more.

Things are about to get interesting...

~~O~~

Rhaenyra Targaryen, 110 AC.

As they walked, Aemon asked, "So, anything new with the realm?" He said a little lost in thought.

Rhaenyra shook her head. "No, nothing really important, at least not yet. I've heard a few whispers about the Stepstones, but I still have to confirm them later." Rhaenyra had been named cupbearer two years ago, succeeding Aemon. Initially, it was his position, but his constant duties and escapades gave the king many headaches, so he appointed the more proper and tamed Rhaenyra. Aemon didn't mind, as she would share everything she learned with him anyway, and it gave him more freedom. He shuddered at the memory of the countless meetings discussing trivial matters of the realm. Some were important, but the vast majority were mere bureaucratic trivialities. At least it was a sign of a stable realm, with no major events to deal with recently.

"That's good then, but keep an eye on the matter of the Stepstones. I have a vague impression of this name from my past life." Rhaenyra nodded, now more concerned.

She sighed and said, "I should probably go there now. Father will be mad if I'm late; he's been traumatized by a certain someone's tardiness." She fixed her eyes on her brother, not hiding her grievances.

Aemon scratched his head, embarrassed. He knew he had caused his sister many problems. "Good luck anyway. I have to take a bath and change my clothes, and, um, attend my duties. Yeah, that's right," he said, making an excuse to escape her scrutiny. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and shooed him away with her hands.

Before going his own way, Aemon grabbed her hand and planted a tender kiss on the back of it. "Thank you, Rhaenyra, truly," he said, his purple and gorgeous eyes staring deeply into hers. Aemon was extremely grateful for Rhaenyra for many reasons. Although he sometimes didn't show it, he wanted to remind her of his appreciation. 

She was taken aback by his sudden affection, as he seldomly acted this way with anyone but their mother. Before she could process it, he smiled cheekily and ran off down the corridors, skillfully avoiding colliding with the servants.

She stared after him, then at her hand, lost in thought. Shaking her head, she continued on her way. If anyone saw the princess now, they would notice her lighter steps and the subdued beautiful smile gracing her lips.

~~O~~

She soon arrived at the small council chamber. She could hear laughter behind the door as she entered, finding Lord Corlys Velaryon speaking.

He glanced at her before continuing. "My lords, the growing alliance among the Free Cities has taken to styling itself 'the Triarchy,'" he said, his tone serious and worried.

He stood and unrolled a map of the Stepstones onto the table. "They have massed on Bloodstone and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation."

Viserys lightly dismissed him with a sarcastic remark. "Well, that sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys."

Corlys insisted, his tone firmer. "A man called Craghas Drahar has styled himself the prince-admiral of this Triarchy. They call him 'The Crabfeeder' due to his inventive methods of punishing his enemies."

He stared at the king, trying to convey the seriousness of the matter. Viserys, however, remained unconvinced. "And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?"

Corlys sighed, clearly annoyed by the king's childish behavior, and sat down in frustration.

Viserys turned to his daughter as she approached the table. "Rhaenyra, you're late. The King's cupbearer must not be late. Leaves people wanting for cups. Please don't be like Aemon; my throat can't take it," he joked, still traumatized by Aemon's constant absence.

Rhaenyra smiled gently and began serving wine to the council members.

The master of coin, Lyman Beesbury, said, "Your Grace, at Prince Daemon's urging, the crown has invested significant capital in the retraining and re-equipping of his City Watch. I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide an assessment of his progress as commander of the Watch."

Rhaenyra's ears perked up at the mention of her infamous uncle. It had been a while since they last saw each other. She had mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he had treated her kindly since she was small, and although she sensed his feelings for her were more than familial, she couldn't hate him for it, given their house's customs. On the other hand, she never let him cross any boundaries, not only because she wasn't interested but also because Aemon despised their uncle. It was amusing since Daemon liked Aemon, saying he reminded him of his father Baelon. Daemon would tease Aemon whenever possible, sometimes using Rhaenyra as a tool to torment him. She always sided with her brother, though she found it funny sometimes.

Maintaining a safe distance from Daemon, she didn't harbor the same animosity as Aemon.

As she pondered this, Viserys asked, "Do you think Daemon is distracted by his present tasks? That his thoughts and energies are occupied?"

His voice held a hint of annoyance at the mention of his troublesome brother. Lyman replied, "One would hope so, considering the associated costs."

Viserys continued, "Then let us all consider your gold well-invested, Lord Beesbury."

Corlys, still upset with the dismissal of his concerns, interrupted with a stern tone. "I would urge that you not allow this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones, Your Grace. If those shipping lanes should fall, it will beggar our ports."

Otto interrupted rudely, "The crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement."

Rhaenyra shook her head mentally at the Hand's ability to be universally disliked.

Corlys sighed in defeat, clearly mentally exhausted.

Otto continued, "Shall we discuss the Heir's Tournament, Your Grace?"

Rhaenyra could see Viserys's expression morph from pure boredom to pure happiness as he stated with joy in his voice, "I would be delighted! Will the maesters' name day prediction hold, Mellos?" She rolled her eyes at her goofy father.

Mellos, the Grand Maester, answered with hesitation, "You must understand that these things are mere estimations, my King, but we have all been poring over the moon charts, and we feel that our forecast is as accurate as it can be."

'Useless superstition...' thought Rhaenyra. She was used to such nonsense after years of living in this place, but it still bothered her how backwards things were at times. If the Faith of the Seven and the Citadel weren't so powerful, perhaps things would be better.

Both she and Aemon had plans concerning those organizations for many reasons. Aemon had stated that in his past life, there was a theory that the maesters of the Citadel might have been involved in the extinction of the dragons. Even if that was only a possibility, they needed to keep an eye on them. The Faith of the Seven, however, was more complicated to deal with. They were powerful, too powerful and influential. It bothered both of them to have their influence so intertwined with the crown and their subjects. They had to do something about it sooner or later. The Faith wasn't exactly a fan of House Targaryen either. The only reason for their "tolerance" was the dragons—a pretty solid reason not to mess with the Targaryens. Open revolt against the Faith would only bring doom for the time being, so they had to plan and wait for the right opportunity.

Rhaenyra made her way to Corlys, who held out his hand to stop her from pouring him wine, clearly not in the mood for drinking.

Lyman proceeded to say, "The cost of the tournament is not negligible. Perhaps we might delay until the child is in hand?" He clearly wanted to diminish the spending at all costs.

Lyonel Strong, the Master of Laws and father of her brother's "besto friendo," as he put it, said tiredly, "Most of the lords and knights are certainly on their way to King's Landing already. To turn them back now…"

Viserys, already having enough of this charade, said in a clear and final tone, "The tourney will take the better part of a week. Before the games are over, the lords will swear their loyalty to Aemon, my son will be born, and the whole realm will celebrate."

Mellos tried to remind him of the possibility of their new sibling being female, saying, "We have no way of predicting the sex of the child."

Viserys, possessing a confidence that Rhaenyra had no idea where it came from, stated, "Of course, no maester's capable of rendering an opinion free of conditions, are they now? There's a boy in the Queen's belly. I know it. He will grow beside Aemon and help him manage the realm to prosperity like never before."

Rhaenyra just listened to all of this silently, absorbing everything and worrying about the future.

~~O~~

Rhaenyra was walking beside a knight as she listened to his report. "He passed through the Red Keep's gates at first light," said Ser Harrold, the new commander of the Kingsguard. 

After the passing of Ser Ryam, something that deeply saddened both her and her twin, the mantle was passed to Harrold. He was a middle-aged tall man with completely shaved hair. You could see by his features that he was a handsome man in his youth and was still pretty popular with the ladies. Aemon liked to use weird terms to describe him, saying things like "he's a silver fox" or "DILF." She had already given up understanding that side of Aemon; perhaps it was something he got from their goofy father.

Harrold was a good, honorable man and an excellent knight. Even Aemon admitted that he was still a level above his own. The only reason Aemon could keep up with Harrold was because he was faster and had more stamina, but in a real scenario, he would probably be beaten.

Rhaenyra asked, "Does my father and Aemon know he's here?"

Harrold answered, "Prince Aemon has been notified as per your request, but the king doesn't know." Rhaenyra could feel the guilt in his voice, as he didn't feel comfortable not reporting this to the king.

Rhaenyra replied, "Good."

They soon stood at the front of the throne room, and Harrold opened the door.

His eyes enlarged as he stared incredulously at the sight in front of him. "Gods be good," he said, his voice filled with shock and indignation.

There stood Daemon, sitting on the Iron Throne with a nonchalant expression. His deep purple eyes glowed in the darkness as he stared at them from above, like a hunter staring at his prey, just silently watching.

Rhaenyra, already used to her uncle's theatricality, reassured Harrold quietly, "It's all right, Ser."

She walked in the direction of the throne, and Ser Harrold stood behind, still in shock. After a few seconds, he just shook his head and tried to forget what he saw, thinking to himself, 'I'm too old for this,' as he stood guarding the door.

Back at the throne, Rhaenyra said in High Valyrian so only they could understand, "What do you think you're doing, uncle?" Her tone was a mixture of coldness and amusement, as she really couldn't grasp her uncle's line of thought. He loved his family dearly, to the point of murdering anyone who dared to besmirch their house. But at the same time, he really, really enjoyed causing a scene.

'Perhaps some sort of narcissistic personality disorder?' she mused to herself. Did Daemon really love his family, or did he love the reflection of himself he saw in them? He was a very prideful man, especially prideful of his Valyrian descent.

He answered her, "Sitting. This could well be my chair one day." He smiled smugly at her as he spoke.

Rhaenyra replied, "Not if you're executed for treason. You haven't come to court in an age." It was true; Daemon would be absent from the court for weeks or even months. He was even worse than her brother in this regard.

Daemon replied with a sigh, "Aye... Court is so dreadfully boring." It was one of the only things that he and his "dear nephew" could agree on.

Rhaenyra stopped at the edge of the stairs leading to the throne.

Daemon stared at her while saying, "I heard your father was hosting a tournament in my honor." His eyes wandered over her body, as if saving every single detail of it in his mind. That look made her shiver in disgust for a second, reminding her of the joke Aemon made years ago about how "dear" he wanted her...

She replied, "The tournament is for his heir." She wanted to know the intentions behind his words.

Daemon replied with something that confirmed her thoughts on his deluded mind, "Just as I said."

Rhaenyra's eyes grew sharp, and she stared back at him with a cold gaze as she stated, "He has an heir. My brother always was and always will be his true heir, Daemon." She stopped calling him uncle, drawing a clear line between them. She always was, and always would be, on her brother's side.

"Accidents happen," Daemon stated, as if unaware of the horrible implications of that phrase.

Rhaenyra's eyes filled with hatred and a sense of protection as she gazed at him coldly. "Is this a threat?" she demanded, her voice sharp and unyielding.

If there was one thing that could break Rhaenyra's stoic and mostly calm demeanor, it was any kind of threat to her family, especially Aemon and their mother. This protectiveness had roots not only in her past life but also in something deeper, something in her blood. She had noticed a few years ago that her feelings were wilder and more raw, particularly towards her twin. It was a sense of possessiveness she had never felt with anyone else, something that both disturbed and amused her, unlike anything she had experienced in her three lives.

Daemon, recognizing the fire in her eyes, raised his hands in mock surrender. "No threat, dear niece. Just an observation. The world is a dangerous place, after all." His tone was light, but his eyes glinted with a hidden edge.

He got up from the throne and walked down with calm steps.

As he stood in front of her, his towering shadow covered her entire being. Aemon was tall for his age, and it was clear that in the future, he would be even taller than Daemon. But for now, Daemon was the tallest in their family, and combined with his fierce stance and battle-hardened aura, it caused Rhaenyra to straighten her posture and cross her arms behind her back, touching the hidden dagger that she always carried with her, prepared for anything.

Before he could say anything, a booming sound echoed through the room as firm and steady steps were heard.

A pretty livid Aemon was rapidly approaching them with an expression filled with worry and anger. You could see by his damp hair that he had probably just gotten out of the bath, and his clothes were still a bit messy, showing that he dressed as quickly as he could before coming. With each step, his momentum grew. He saw the scene and analyzed everything within seconds, and after making sure his sister was okay, his murder-like aura diminished a little, but he was still pretty angry.

He said with a solemm voice, "You better have a good reason to be in this room without the presence of your king, Daemon."

Daemon, somewhat surprised by his sudden appearance and aura, was taken aback for a second but quickly recomposed himself and his smug smile returned to his face. He said, while staring down at his favorite yet hateful nephew, "It's good to see you too, dear nephew," he chuckled as he spoke.

But Aemon wasn't having it. "Cut the crap, Daemon. Just fucking tell us what you want and return to the hellhole you crawled out from!"

Rhaenyra, now relieved and a bit worried about the whole situation, stepped back and touched Aemon's arm in an attempt to stop him, her eyes saying, 'Calm down, I'm fine.' Aemon studied her, his eyes scanning her up and down, searching for even the tiniest detail to see if Daemon had dared to touch even a strand of her hair.

Daemon smiled amusedly at the duo. He could see the raw emotions in his nephew's eyes and the worry and care his sister had for him. It made him a little jealous of their relationship. In the past, he and Viserys had been close siblings, but as the years went by, they had grown apart.

He answered sarcastically, "Can't I visit my niece and nephew anymore? I even brought gifts for you both."

This caught Aemon off guard, as he had never received any kind of gift from his hateful uncle.

But he didn't forget the situation and said with an angered tone, "Do you need to give us such gifts in the throne room? Must be very lavish gifts, Daemon." He snickered at the end, clearly not buying his excuse.

He really, really didn't like his uncle. Every time they crossed paths, they would bicker.

It was already a miracle they hadn't crossed blades at this point. Every time Daemon stared at Rhaenyra with his creepy and disturbing gaze, it took every single cell in Aemon's body to stop himself from jumping Daemon and beating the hell out of him. Of course, Aemon knew that Daemon was a fierce foe, perhaps the strongest warrior of their time. But they hadn't yet crossed the line of wanting each other dead. At least not Aemon. He just really, really wanted to break Daemon's nose.

Daemon reached into his pocket, an action that caused both twins to hold their breath. Rhaenyra gripped her dagger, and Aemon reached for his sword.

Daemon chuckled at their reaction. "Am I that scary to you, kids? You wound me..." His expression betrayed a tinge of sadness, but his usual smug demeanor quickly returned. Aemon, blinded by anger, was just preparing for the worst. Rhaenyra, however, saw the brief flicker of sadness and again questioned the motivation behind his actions and feelings toward his family.

Daemon retrieved what he wanted and showed them a pair of necklaces. One had a red gem, the other a blue one. Both had the same design; only the gems were different colors. Daemon had paid a hefty price for these, originally planning on gifting them to his future offspring. But for some mysterious reason, as soon as he bought them, he thought of the twins, almost as if they just had to be gifted to them. He struggled against those feelings for weeks before finally giving in and deciding to give them to the twins.

"Perhaps it's their fate..." he mused.

Back in the present, Rhaenyra and Aemon spoke simultaneously, "It's Valyrian steel. Like Dark Sister!" Their shock wasn't exaggerated. Any items made of Valyrian steel were not only rare but also extremely expensive. The fact that their uncle had his hands on these and wanted to gift them was astonishing.

As they stood there, Aemon and Rhaenyra felt a strange pull toward the necklaces. It was as if the pieces of Valyrian steel were calling out to them, drawing them closer with an inexplicable force.

Aemon unconsciously moved his hand toward the necklaces, intending to catch them. But before he could, Daemon retracted his hands, teasing him with a smirk. "Do you want it?" he taunted, his tone clearly amused.

Annoyed by Daemon's words, Aemon denied his interest, though his eyes betrayed him as they kept stealing glances at the necklaces, especially the blue one. Rhaenyra, seeing through her brother's facade, decided to intervene, raising her voice to stop Daemon's teasing. "Stop teasing him, Daemon. Are you going to give us the gifts or not?" she said icily, her patience wearing thin.

Daemon tsked at her reaction, as if finding it boring. "Turn around," he commanded, his eyes scanning Rhaenyra up and down, giving her goosebumps.

"Stop playing games, Daemon," Rhaenyra retorted, her tone cold as she refused to give in to his manipulation.

"I won't give it to you if you don't turn around," Daemon persisted, his tone firm.

Before Rhaenyra could respond, Aemon spoke up. "Then shove it up your ass, Daemon!" he snapped, his frustration evident. Though he desired the necklaces, he refused to sacrifice his sister's dignity for them.

Locking eyes with Rhaenyra, they silently agreed to leave the room before they succumbed to their anger and attacked their uncle. But before they could depart, Daemon tossed the necklaces toward them. Reacting on instinct, they caught the objects, surprised by the sudden turn of events.

As they examined the necklaces in their hands, Daemon's voice echoed behind them. "Consider this a token of goodwill. A reminder of our heritage and your bond." His words hung in the air as he left without looking back.

Aemon's voice cut through the silence with a solemn declaration. "I'll see you at the tourney...uncle," he called out, the last word barely audible but filled with significance. It was his unconventional way of expressing gratitude.

As Daemon disappeared into the castle, Rhaenyra examined the necklace in her hand, feeling a strange sensation coursing through her. It was as if the necklace held a secret, something powerful and ancient. She glanced at Aemon, who wore a similar expression of bewilderment.

With a silent agreement between them, they pocketed the necklaces, knowing that this encounter with their enigmatic uncle was perhaps the beginning of a deeper mystery yet to be unraveled.