Chapter 17.

A/N:

Hello there, my lovely degenerates ~

It took longer than I thought, but here is the final part! I'm almost finishing this volume now, and another timeskip is about to happen! Some of you may not like the timeskips, but you have to understand that I'm trying to write a more chronicles-like story in this one, similar to the original book "Fire and Blood," just mixing in some narration and elements like the TV show did. This book is more of an experiment for me and a challenge as an aspiring writer.

I don't know if you'll enjoy this chapter or not, but I think it's decent enough.

Bear in mind that actions have consequences, and the events that happened here will change a lot of things in the future.

Vermithor and Silverwing's reactions will be pushed to the next chapter. They didn't fit quite well with this one.

Rhaenyra's state will also be explained later.

And also about their powers—they will be explored soon enough, so just wait for now.

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.

Enjoy the chapter!

~~O~~

Aemon Targaryen, 110 AC.

Time seemed to stop for Aemon as he stared at the scene before him.

Beside a completely blood-soaked bed lay his sister, her eyes vacant, staring into the void while mumbling incoherently. Her clothes were drenched in red, the vibrant and passionate color representing their house of fire and blood, now looking cold and lifeless.

She hugged the body of a woman tightly, rocking back and forth as if cradling a baby, and to his horror, he recognized the woman.

"M-Mother?" His voice was filled with disbelief and confusion, still not having processed the entire scene.

He blinked mechanically, trying to force the vision before him to disappear, as if it were a mirage. His lips quivered, and his whole body shook. He walked slowly with jittery and trembling legs.

As he got closer, he couldn't deny it anymore. Her once beautiful and vibrant violet eyes were now dull and lifeless. His mother's face, normally so warm and filled with love, was frozen in terror, forever chained to the horrors and pain she had endured in her last moments.

He heard the faint whispering of his sister now and could discern some words like 'Mother' and 'Ai.' Rhaenyra didn't even acknowledge his presence; she just kept hugging Aemma's cold body with a protective stance. Aemon was confused, so confused. He couldn't even process the myriad of emotions brewing inside him. He was afraid that the moment he gave in to those thoughts, he would crumble apart and be forever lost inside his own grief.

He couldn't do that, not when Rhaenyra was in such a state. She was always his emotional support, the one who pulled him back from the brink of madness countless times. This was the one time, the only time he could not fail her. He couldn't let his wild emotions take control of him. But even with all that in mind and sheer willpower, he was only human at the end of the day; he couldn't keep everything in. His eyes grew foggy, and his throat tightened. He fought the despair threatening to overwhelm him with everything he had as he tried to focus on anything else. He wanted to hug Rhaenyra and console her while crying in her arms, but he knew this wasn't the time for it.

He looked at the scene, and even though it was perhaps the hardest and most painful task he ever had, he tried to analyze it.

He looked at the state of Aemma and the lake of blood that pooled around her belly. He could see a wound through the dress, and his body immediately shook when a terrible thought crossed his mind.

His mind raced fast, and he knew that Rhaenyra would never do such a thing. A quick scan of the room immediately gave him the answer he was searching for.

His tear-filled eyes hardened as he focused on the two people he knew had the answers.

He dragged his tired body slowly towards them.

Mellos and Viserys stood at the edge of the room, their faces a mixture of guilt and fear. Mellos avoided Aemon's gaze, while Viserys looked like a man on the verge of collapse, his earlier resolve completely shattered.

Aemon's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of his grief and anger. "What happened?"

Viserys opened his mouth to speak but faltered, unable to find the words. Mellos stepped forward, his tone defensive yet shaken. "We had to... to save the child. It was the only way."

Aemon's eyes flicked to the bloody knife still clutched in Mellos's hand. His mind pieced together the horror of what had transpired. "You butchered her..." His voice cracked, the rage and sorrow mingling into a torrent of emotions.

Viserys tried to reach out to him, his own eyes filled with tears. "Aemon, it was a difficult decision. I... I saw it in a dream. It was for the good of the realm, for our future..."

Aemon recoiled, disbelief and fury etched on his face. "A dream? You sacrificed her for a fucking dream?" His hands clenched into fists, his whole body trembling with the effort to restrain himself.

Rhaenyra's soft whispers reached his ears, grounding him, reminding him of his responsibility. He couldn't afford to lose control, not yet, not before he knew everything, he had to hold it for just a little more. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. "Where is the child?" he demanded, his voice cold and hard.

Mellos glanced nervously at Viserys before answering, "The child... the child didn't survive."

Silence.

Viserys looked at Aemon's direction, not only with shame but also trying to gauge his reaction. He knew that he had caused a rift in their relationship that perhaps would never be mended. Aemon's head was down, and he saw his shoulders shaking. He reached out his hand to touch him, to bring him any kind of comfort he could. Before he reached his shoulder, he felt a hard and firm hand holding his wrist. When he looked at Aemon confusedly, what he saw greatly shocked him. Aemon was smiling, an extremely twisted and haunting smile that disturbed him to no end. He saw his eyes filled with fury and madness, and a golden glint that reminded him of a certain bronze fury.

Suddenly, a loud snap echoed in the room. He felt a sharp pain in his arm. When he directed his attention to it again, he saw it was at a completely twisted angle. He didn't have time to process what was happening before a strong kick hit him, sending him flying across the room.

The whole room was filled with screams of the attendants as they saw this scene. But Aemon didn't hear them as he moved quickly in the direction of the maester.

Mellos was still petrified by Aemon's actions against the king, and all he could mutter was, "This is treaso—!!" before he was sent flying by a punch to his face. He landed hard on the floor, breaking several of his fragile old bones in the process. His face was mangled and filled with blood, and he spat out several teeth as he coughed. He saw a shadow covering his body, and he slowly raised his head to look at the owner of the shadow. Looking down on him was the very incarnation of death, in the form of Aemon's blazing eyes and maniacal expression. He saw the tears running down the young prince's face, forming a distorted picture that he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his days if he survived this ordeal. Aemon's strong and bloody hands slowly approached his face as Mellos pleaded between coughs, "P-please," to no avail. The last thing he saw was a pair of thumbs each approaching his eyeballs as Aemon lifted his body by his head into the air with supernatural strength. He felt them slowly sinking into his eyes as he thrashed and screamed in pain, his pleading screams now gone as agony and despair took over him. His eyes exploded out of their sockets as Aemon unhurriedly applied pressure into his skull.

"Arghh!!"

"What in the seven hells is going on here!?" A scream of confusion echoed in the room, and Aemon recognized the voice as Otto's.

"Stop, my Prince!"

Aemon also heard Ser Harrold's voice cut through the haze of rage and grief. Harrold moved quickly and tried to separate Aemon from Mellos, but he just couldn't; the prince's strength completely overwhelmed him. Harrold turned his head toward the door, and there stood two of his fellow Kingsguard, one of them being the prince's best friend, Ser Harwin.

Harrold screamed, "A little help here, lads!" That snapped the confused and shocked Kingsguard out of their stupor, and they quickly joined the effort. But even then, they could barely hold Aemon's arms from crushing Mellos's head. Aemon, knowing that he couldn't torture and slowly kill Mellos as he wanted before dealing with the others, released the old maester like a sack of trash on the ground, but not before kicking his belly and sending him flying across the room.

When he finally had his hands free again, he looked around him. All of the attendants were gone now, and only a few people still stood in the room. Besides the three Kingsguard that were holding him, he saw Otto and Daemon trying to help his father get up from the ground, probably the first and only time they would ever cooperate in something. Lastly, he looked one more time at the direction of his sister and saw that she was still in the same position as before, holding their mother's cold corpse.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to control the euphoria and power coursing through his veins but had little success. He turned his gaze to the people holding him. His voice was grave and solemn as he spoke, "You have five seconds to release me."

The Kingsguard exchanged wary glances, recognizing the deadly seriousness in Aemon's tone. They knew the prince's strength and rage were unmatched, but they simply couldn't back off from this situation.

Harwin stared at Aemon incredulously. He couldn't believe that this was the same charming and light-hearted prince he had come to know and love like a brother over the years. He vividly remembered the time when both he and Aemon had traded blows in the courtyard for the first time, neither willing to surrender. As they finally got too exhausted to fight, Aemon had laughed warmly and declared, "From now on, you will be my besto friendo!" Harwin greatly respected Aemon for his amazing skills and tenacity, as well as his treatment of everyone around him. Aemon had never treated him or any of the castle's servants as lesser; he was always kind and respectful, no matter their social status. Aemon also admired Harwin for not being a bootlicker, for being practically the only one in the Kingsguard to really give his all against Aemon. Ser Harrold would fight seriously when training Aemon, but he sensed that Harrold would hesitate from time to time, still mindful that he was fighting the heir. The other Kingsguard weren't exactly a challenge to Aemon, though they were certainly extremely skilled and experienced, so it annoyed Aemon to see them holding back in their sparring sessions.

The fact that Aemon considered him his best friend was a great honor to Harwin, and he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he had felt a bit sentimental at that time. But this—this wasn't the Aemon he knew, at least not completely. The feeling he got from this Aemon in front of him was that of a bloodthirsty beast gone berserk. He saw how Aemon's eyes flicked around the room rapidly, fierce and wild. He shivered when those eyes paused on him, but he still felt the responsibility to stop Aemon—not because of duty or honor, but to protect him from himself.

"Brother, please see reason! I don't know what happened to get you in such a state, but you have to stop before it's too late!"

Aemon's eyes locked onto Harwin's, a brief flicker of recognition in the storm of rage and grief. "They killed her, Harwin. They butchered my mother like an animal!" His voice was a mixture of anguish and fury, every word dripping with pain.

Harwin could see the anger and anguish of his dear friend, and a big part of him wanted to let Aemon have his revenge. But he also knew that if things escalated more than they already had, Aemon would be in great trouble. He tried to reason with the prince, saying, "I understand your pain, broth—" but before he could say anything else, he felt his body being lifted from the ground and thrown hard against the floor.

He couldn't breathe for a few seconds after the impact, and it felt like he had been struck by a boar. He could barely process what had just happened, and soon he saw an even scarier sight. Aemon's expression twisted again, and a dangerous and creepy smile laced his face as he used his now free hand to grab the other knight by the neck. Harrold shouted as he tried to free his companion from Aemon's grasp, "Cease this madness, Aemon!" But Aemon didn't budge as they watched the kingsguard's face turning purple.

Before the knight was completely strangled to death, Aemon was tackled to the ground by another person. Harwin immediately recognized the man as Prince Daemon. Daemon immediately shouted an order to him and Harrold as he grappled Aemon into a chokehold, "Grab both of his legs, don't let him get up!" Daemon knew that although Aemon was immensely strong, he would still lose some of that strength if he couldn't use his core strength, or so he thought.

A deafening scream akin to a dragon's roar filled the room as Aemon thrashed his body against them. His sheer power and rage seemed almost inhuman, driven by the ancient energy coursing through him. The room echoed with the sound of struggle, a chaotic symphony of anguish and desperation.

Daemon knew that they couldn't hold on for much longer, so he tried to appeal to the only thing he knew Aemon still cared about.

"You self-centered brat, do you realize what you are doing!?" His voice was angry, not only because of the situation but also because he had just lost moments ago to Aemon. He wanted to challenge him again, but he knew it would be impossible if this brat got himself killed or banished for treason. It was a good thing they had followed Aemon after he ran; he dreaded to think about what would have transpired if they weren't here to at least stop him momentarily. "Think about your sister, Aemon! She will be alone and hurt because of your impulsivity." It was ironic for the people around to hear Daemon say such words, as he was known for his reckless and impulsive demeanor to all. What they didn't know was that most of the time he did those actions on purpose, just to rile people up or to draw their attention to him.

To his luck and everyone else in the room, they soon heard the faint but clear voice of Rhaenyra.

In the midst of this chaos, her voice cut through the din. "Aemon... Aemon..." Her voice trembling and filled with sorrow. Aemon turned his head, and what he saw filled his heart with misery. Rhaenyra was looking at him, and for the first time, he saw his ever-calm and strong sister crying. Her expression was overflowing with grief and desperation as she said, "I couldn't save her... I couldn't save Ai..."

Aemon's fury wavered, the sight of his sister's tears piercing through the red haze of his rage. His struggles against Daemon and the others lessened, the primal energy within him receding. The golden light in his eyes dimmed as he focused on Rhaenyra, the reality of their shared pain grounding him.

"Rhaenyra..." Aemon's voice broke, brimming with anguish. "I'm so sorry..."

Aemon's breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to rein in his emotions. The sight of his mother's lifeless body, his sister's devastated state, and the betrayal of his father all swirled in his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. But the words of his sister, her desperate voice, began to break through the fog of his rage.

"Release me..." Aemon said with a quiet and hoarse voice. 

Harrold looked at Daemon, who nodded back at him. 

Daemon cautiously loosened his grip, sensing the shift in Aemon's demeanor. Harwin and Harrold released his legs, though they remained on guard, ready to intervene if necessary.

Aemon sat up slowly, the rage replaced by a profound sadness. He looked at the broken bodies around him, the evidence of his uncontrollable wrath. Mellos lay unconscious, his face a mess of blood and broken bones. Viserys was slumped against the wall beside a very disturbed Otto, clutching his broken arm and watching Aemon with a mixture of fear and sorrow. The Kingsguard were bruised and battered, their loyalty tested by the events that had just unfolded.

Aemon's voice was hoarse, filled with dejection. "I... I lost control." He turned his gaze to Daemon, who had been his unexpected savior. "Thank you for stopping me." 

Aemon didn't regret what he did, but he knew that if he killed them, the consequences would be dire, and he would be forever separated from his sister.

He would have his revenge, and he would be sure to make them pay in the most painful way. But not now, not yet. Rhaenyra needed him, and he needed her.

He slowly approached her and could see her still lost and confused expression, which made him want to cry even harder. He softly cleaned her tear-filled face as he heard her say, "I couldn't save Ai, Aemon... I couldn't save her again..." Her normally beautiful and shining violet eyes were dim, and he felt like she had lost her will to live when he stared at them. He really didn't know who this Ai was or why she was saying such things, but it didn't matter to him. He could see that she was having some sort of mental breakdown, and that she needed him the most now. He looked one more time at his mother's body and carefully closed her eyes with his hands before kissing each of them tenderly while his tears fell onto her face.

"I'll avenge you, Mother," he vowed while taking one last look at her lifeless face, trying to carve this feeling into his heart so he would never forget it when he took action against the people who did this to her.

He gently hugged Rhaenyra's body and lifted her in his arms as she hugged him back, still murmuring incoherently.

They all watched his back as he carried Rhaenyra out of the room slowly, as if he were holding the most delicate and precious thing in the world.

Viserys could only watch as he thought, 'I've completely destroyed my own family...'