Chapter 40 - A Tale Of Two Dragons

279 AC

Ashara POV

I strode through the immense halls of Casterly Rock, the echoes of my footsteps reverberating off the stone walls as I made my way towards Elias's chambers.

Entering, I found her amidst a flurry of servants, her figure draped in a breathtaking dress adorned with hues of orange and gold. Her hair was being meticulously arranged by one of the maids as I approached her.

"How do I look, Ashara?" she inquired, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"You look absolutely radiant, Elia," I replied with a warm smile. "Ser Jaime won't know what hit him when he sees you at the altar."

The festivities had been in full swing for the past fortnight in preparation for the wedding between the future Lord of the Westerlands and the Princess of Dorne. Today marked the culmination of those celebrations, as lords and ladies from both realms, along with the entire royal family, gathered to witness the union.

"You truly are a vision, my dear," Princess of Dorne, Elia's mother, remarked as she entered the room.

"Indeed, Mother," Prince Doran chimed in as he followed behind her. "You're the epitome of grace and beauty, Elia."

Elia chuckled at her brother's compliment, though her gaze turned slightly stern as she addressed him. "Do you know where our wayward brother is, Doran?"

Doran's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I believe he's taken young Jaime to a tavern to impart some 'wisdom,'" he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Elia's expression darkened momentarily before she joined in the laughter that echoed in the room. "I'll have to have a word with him later," she remarked, her tone laced with both amusement and exasperation.

"Come, let us not keep the sept waiting," Doran said, gesturing for us to follow him as we made our way towards the grand sept of Casterly Rock, accompanied by an entourage of knights and attendants.

As we entered the sept, my gaze swept over the sea of nobles gathered within, with members of House Targaryen seated prominently alongside the Lannisters. Jaime Lannister stood proudly at the altar, a figure of nobility and grace, as his parents watched on with pride.

We took our seats amongst the assembled guests, and I couldn't help but notice the absence of one particular member of House Targaryen. The void left by Daemon's absence was palpable, a reminder of the ties that bound our two houses together.

After all, the Lannisters were soon to become part of his family, as he would be wed to Lady Cersei Lannister.

Even though I harbored no desire for it, I couldn't deny the allure of Lady Cersei as I glanced in her direction. Her golden locks cascaded like liquid sunshine, framing a face that exuded regal beauty. Her emerald green eyes held a certain captivating charm that drew the gaze of all who beheld her.

But it wasn't just her physical appearance that caught my attention. It was the subtle exchanges between her and Crown Prince Rhaegar that truly intrigued me. The way their eyes met, holding silent conversations laden with unspoken words and hidden depths of understanding, spoke volumes.

Despite being betrothed to Daemon, the connection between them was undeniable, sparking a curiosity within me that I couldn't quite quell. Was it mere courtesy, or was there something more lingering beneath the surface?.

 As the ceremony began, I couldn't shake the feeling that our world was on the brink of change, and that the alliances forged on this day would shape the course of history for years to come.

As the ceremony concluded, my thoughts inevitably drifted to Daemon. It had been years since our paths had crossed, and I couldn't shake the feeling of his absence on this momentous occasion.

"Stay away from him, Ashara," my brother's caution echoed in my mind, a reminder of the warning he had issued me long ago.

I watched as Elia and Jaime exchanged vows and sealed their union with a kiss, the cheers of the assembled nobles filling the air. It was a joyous moment, yet beneath the surface, a pang of nostalgia tugged at my heart.

We made our way towards Lannisport, where outside its formidable walls, the final day of the joust awaited us. Riding together, our party approached the bustling city, anticipation mounting as the cheers of the crowd echoed in the distance.

As we neared, I caught sight of a single ship with the sails proudly bearing the emblem of a golden dragon – Daemon had arrived. The air crackled with excitement as we dismounted and joined the throngs of spectators assembling for the day's events.

Amidst the sea of faces, my gaze was drawn inexorably to the royal stand, where at last, I glimpsed Daemon. The King's proclamation rang out over the crowd, announcing his son's return, and a wave of cheers rippled through the gathered masses.

Daemon had changed since I last saw him. His hair had grown longer, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. Clad in resplendent golden armor, with Dark Sister gleaming at his hip, he exuded an air of confidence and charisma.

After exchanging greetings with his family, Daemon approached Elia and Jaime to offer his congratulations. With a courtly bow, he kissed Elia's hand and bestowed upon her compliments that rivalled the poetry of the bards. Though Elia's smile was gracious, Jaime's response was guarded, his demeanor reflecting a hint of skepticism.

Daemon then unveiled his gifts – exquisite jewels from the Summer Islands, acquired through his fleet's travels, alongside finely crafted swords and armor. The generosity of his offerings spoke volumes of his wealth and influence, eliciting murmurs of admiration from the onlookers.

As Jaime accepted the gifts with courteous gratitude, Daemon couldn't resist a playful jab, teasing him about his changing voice and newfound knighthood. Despite Jaime's discomfort at being reminded of his youth, he graciously acknowledged Daemon's jests, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Where is my brother, the man who knighted you?" Daemon inquired, his tone carrying a hint of playful mischief.

Jaime's expression tensed slightly at the reminder of his youth, though he maintained his composure. "The Crown Prince Rhaegar has reached the finals of the joust," he informed Daemon, his voice steady. "He will be facing the Sword of the Morning."

Daemon's eyes brightened with genuine interest at the news. "Oh, that is wonderful," he replied, his tone laced with anticipation.

Then, in a moment that felt like a fleeting whisper amidst the clamor of the crowd, Daemon's gaze found mine, a smile playing upon his lips before he turned away. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, a rush of memories flooding back with an intensity that caught me off guard.

Before I could dwell further on the implications of that silent exchange, Daemon excused himself, intent on greeting his betrothed. With a graceful bow, he made his way towards where Cersei sat, his presence commanding attention as he approached her with the same charm and charisma that had captivated me all those years ago.

As I watched them interact, a myriad of emotions swirled within me – curiosity, longing, and a hint of apprehension. Despite my brother's warnings to stay away from Daemon, there was an undeniable pull, a connection that lingered between us like an unbreakable thread binding our fates together.

My attention shifted downward as the herald's voice rang out, announcing the final joust between the Crown Prince and my brother.

Prince Rhaegar stood resplendent in a suit of armor that gleamed pitch black, adorned with a magnificent ruby dragon. Across from him, my brother, clad in the pristine white armor of the Kingsguard, exuded an air of stoic determination.

As the herald's call to begin echoed through the arena, the two knights charged towards each other with thunderous hooves. The clash of their lances reverberated in the air as they met in a thunderous collision.

The crowd held its collective breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air as they watched the titanic struggle unfold before them. Each blow exchanged between the combatants was met with fervent cheers and gasps of awe.

In the end, it was Prince Rhaegar who emerged victorious, his lance finding its mark with unerring precision. As my brother's lance shattered upon impact, the crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers, celebrating the prince's triumph.

As the cheers reverberated through the arena, heralding the prince's triumph, all the nobles joined in applauding his victory. Even the king himself appeared pleased with his eldest son's display of skill and valor. My gaze drifted to Daemon, and our eyes met briefly. He winked at me, and a blush crept to my cheeks.

"Damn it, Ashara, control yourself," I chided silently, though the heat of embarrassment lingered.

Amidst the jubilation, the crown of love and beauty was presented to Prince Rhaegar, a magnificent adornment of golden flowers and emeralds that gleamed in the sunlight. All eyes turned expectantly as the prince prepared to bestow this coveted honor upon the chosen lady.

With bated breath, the crowd awaited the naming of the Queen of Love and Beauty. In a solemn moment, Prince Rhaegar placed the crown upon his lance, lifting it high for all to see.

"I name Lady Cersei of House Lannister as my Queen of Love and Beauty," he declared, his voice carrying across the silent arena.

The cheers that had erupted moments before were replaced by a hushed stillness, as if the very air itself had been suspended in disbelief. In that moment of unexpected proclamation, the crowd fell into complete and utter silence, stunned by the prince's choice.

 -----

Daemon Pov

I struggled to maintain a composed facade as my father unleashed a torrent of verbal abuse upon Rhaegar. The urge to laugh bubbled within me, threatening to betray my amusement at the spectacle unfolding before us.

"Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a babe, you foolish idiot?" Father's voice boomed, his rage palpable.

Rhaegar attempted to defend himself, his voice steady despite the onslaught of insults hurled his way. "Father, I have done nothing wrong. Cersei is deserving of the title of Queen of Love and Beauty," he insisted, though I could see the flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

But Father's fury knew no bounds. With a swift motion, he delivered a stinging slap across Rhaegar's face, the sharp sound echoing through the room. My laughter died in my throat, replaced by a cold knot of apprehension.

"Aerys!" Mother's voice cut through the tense atmosphere as she rushed to Rhaegar's side, concern etched upon her features. She gently touched his cheek, her eyes searching his for any sign of injury.

"Rhaegar, are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Father's anger simmered beneath the surface, his eyes ablaze with fury as he addressed Rhaegar once more. "I thought the foolishness in you would have vanished after Denys Darklyn's capture, but it seems it still lingers," he seethed. "I warn you, Rhaegar, if you dare to disrespect your brother again or commit such an act of folly, be prepared to face the consequences."

The weight of Father's words hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over the room as the gravity of the situation settled upon us all. In that moment, it was clear that Father's wrath knew no bounds, and Rhaegar stood on precarious ground, teetering on the edge of his ire.

"Mother, take Rhaegar away," I commanded, and to my relief, she complied without hesitation, guiding Rhaegar from the room.

"Father, sit down," I said firmly, pouring myself a cup of Dornish red as I gestured for him to join me.

He accepted the cup with a grunt, taking a long sip before fixing me with a piercing gaze. "I know you very well, son. So tell me, why does your blood not boil at your brother's actions?" he questioned, his tone expectant.

I chose my words carefully, masking my true intentions beneath a facade of concern. "Because, Father, Rhaegar is reckless. The entire realm knows it," I replied, watching for his reaction.

To my satisfaction, Father nodded in agreement. "You are correct, Daemon. Your brother is a fool," he conceded, his expression grave.

But then he posed a question that caught me off guard. "But do you know who is the most happy?" he asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Who, Father?" I responded, feigning curiosity while inwardly bracing myself for his answer.

"Tywin Lannister," Father spat out the name with venomous derision. "I gave that man a royal marriage, yet he is not satisfied. He wants his blood on the throne, and the path to that is through Rhaegar," he declared, his disdain evident.

Internally, I couldn't help but smirk at Father's unwitting confirmation of my own machinations. This was precisely the outcome I had hoped for – planting seeds of doubt and suspicion in his mind, steering his thoughts towards the conclusion I desired.

"That is quite insightful, Father. I had not considered that," I replied, offering him a calculated nod of approval. As he preened at my praise, I silently congratulated myself on manipulating the situation to my advantage, knowing that Tywin Lannister's ambitions would serve as a convenient distraction from my own plans.

"Now, enough of this nonsense. Tell me, how were the Summer Islands?" Father asked, a wide smile spreading across my face.

It had been two years since I had founded the Golden Targaryen Trading Company, and now our fleet numbered a hundred ships strong.

"The Summer Islands were absolutely wonderful, Father," I replied enthusiastically. "I've lost count of the number of women I've had the pleasure of spending time with," I added with a grin.

"I believe you should visit there sometime," I suggested, my tone light.

Father chuckled at my suggestion. "That's my boy," he said, patting me on the back approvingly.

In reality, my ventures to the Summer Islands were much more than just pleasure-seeking. The islands lacked in weapons made of iron, which presented a lucrative opportunity for trade. Currently, I had divided the ships of the trading company, each sailing to different Free Cities. You might wonder who would protect these various ships – well, the answer was simple: the Royal Navy.

The expression on Lucerys Velaryon's face when Father instructed him to assist me in my endeavors was priceless. Thanks to the success of our various voyages, I had rightfully earned the moniker of the Golden Prince. Duskendale looked stunning, and I no longer had to govern it directly.

The Academy of Law and Administration had indeed proven to be a godsend. With capable men passing through its halls, the affairs of the land were now expertly managed. What's more, it had become the main base of operations for my trading company. As a result, there had been a noticeable increase in the number of traders and artisans coming to set up shop in the vicinity.

The bustling activity around the academy signaled a flourishing economy, with merchants and craftsmen flocking to the area to take advantage of the opportunities presented by our expanding enterprise. It was a testament to the success of our endeavors and the positive impact they had on the surrounding community.

With the Academy serving as a hub of commerce and innovation, the lands under our influence thrived, benefiting from the influx of talent and resources drawn to my burgeoning trading network. It was a gratifying sight to behold, knowing that my efforts were not only profitable but also contributing to the growth and prosperity of the realm.

In the past two years, I had visited many places, including Braavos and Pentos among the Free Cities. The magisters of Pentos spared no expense in treating me royally, a testament to the favorable relations Pentos seemed to have with anyone bearing the name Daemon Targaryen.

In the illustrious city of Pentos, I encountered the influential cheesemonger, Illyrio Mopatis. His greeting was as smooth as silk, his words honeyed with hospitality. Despite his warm welcome, my disappointment lingered like a shadow, for I had hoped to cross paths with Varys, the elusive spymaster surely concealed within the bustling crowd. Yet, I knew it was merely a matter of time before I unraveled his presence and that of his sister.

Their blood would be the crowning achievement for me, ensuring that I would be remembered throughout the annals of Targaryen history as the man who resurrected the dragons.

---

Cersei Pov

Cersei's Perspective:

I cradled the crown of love and beauty in my hands, marveling at its significance. Rhaegar's gesture spoke volumes about his feelings for me, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Despite the whispers and doubts of others, I knew in my heart that our love was real.

As I pondered the weight of Rhaegar's crown, the tranquility of my chamber was shattered by the abrupt entrance of my parents. My father's face bore an expression of simmering anger, while my mother seemed torn with conflicting emotions.

"Cersei, we have something to tell you," Mother began gently, reaching out to run her hand through my hair.

"What is it, Mother?" I inquired, a sense of foreboding creeping over me.

"The king has decided that you will marry Prince Daemon once we return to King's Landing," she revealed, her words piercing through me like a dagger.

My heart plummeted, shattering into a million pieces at the thought of being forced into a union I did not desire. "No, he cannot make me do that!" I cried out in protest, the tears welling in my eyes betraying my anguish.

I turned to my father, pleading with him to reconsider. "Father, please, do not make me marry Daemon," I begged, my voice choked with emotion.

But he remained steadfast, his resolve unyielding in the face of my desperation. With a heavy heart, I realized that my pleas fell on deaf ears.

Defiance surged within me as I made a vow to myself. "I will marry Rhaegar," I declared, my voice ringing with determination as I stormed out of the room, tears streaming down my cheeks.

In that moment of turmoil, I clung to the fervent hope that love would triumph over duty, refusing to accept a fate dictated by others.

I hurried towards Rhaegar's quarters, my heart pounding with urgency. Ser Barristan stood sentinel outside, his stoic demeanor offering no clue to the tumult raging within me.

Entering the room, I found Rhaegar accompanied by Jon Connington and Ser Arthur Dayne, stalwarts of the Kingsguard. As Rhaegar approached me, his gentle touch on my cheek offered solace amidst the storm brewing within.

"What happened?" he inquired softly, his concern palpable.

"It's my father," I spat out, the bitterness of the words tasting like ash on my tongue. "He wishes me to marry Daemon once we return to King's Landing."

The shock and disbelief on Rhaegar's face mirrored my own tumultuous emotions. But amidst the turmoil, there was a glimmer of hope as Rhaegar took my trembling hands in his own.

"Cersei, you will not marry him," he vowed, his words a beacon of unwavering determination.

And then he uttered the words that filled my heart with newfound hope and joy. "Tonight, we run away and get married," he declared, his eyes ablaze with passion and resolve.

In that moment, surrounded by the man I loved and his steadfast companions, I felt a surge of elation unlike any I had ever known. No force in the Seven Kingdoms could extinguish the flame of our love, for Rhaegar's unwavering commitment was a beacon of light in the darkness.

With Rhaegar by my side, I knew that together, we could defy any obstacle, and overcome any challenge. And I knew that Rhaegar would never leave me for another woman for I was his only Queen of Love And Beauty.

 ----

The Lion And The Dragon

In the Two Hundred and Seventy-Ninth Year of Aegon's Conquest, the union between Prince Elia Nymeros Martell and Ser Jaime Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock, marked an event of grandeur and significance within the annals of Westerosi history.

Amidst the splendor of the joust, the Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, in a gesture both bold and contentious, proclaimed Lady Cersei Lannister who was the betrothed of his brother, Daemon Targaryen the esteemed title of the Queen of Love and Beauty. Such a declaration, though intended as an honor, kindled a conflagration of discord, igniting the ire of the king himself, who beheld it as a slight against his favored son.

Subsequent to this fractious event, amidst the revelry of the wedding feast, the Crown Prince, with Lady Cersei by his side, vanished from the festivities, leaving behind a tempest of speculation and outrage.

The king, incensed by this affront to his son Daemon, unleashed his wrath upon the realm, accusing Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, of deceit and treason, thus setting in motion a series of tumultuous events that would reshape the political landscape of the Seven Kingdoms.

In the wake of the prince's disappearance, Lord Tywin dispatched search parties in a fervent bid to locate his daughter and the missing prince, yet their efforts proved futile.

Three moons waxed and waned before the elusive pair resurfaced in the court of King's Landing, their return heralding a revelation of profound consequence: the Crown Prince proudly announced his marriage to Lady Cersei Lannister, declaring her to be carrying the first head of the dragon.

The king's reaction to this revelation bordered on madness, his fury so consuming that some whispered of his drawing blood upon the unforgiving Iron Throne itself.

In a desperate attempt to quell the growing storm of uncertainty and dissent, the king took drastic measures, stripping Lord Tywin Lannister of his esteemed position as Hand of the King and incarcerating the Crown Prince within the bleak confines of the black cells.

A raven was dispatched to the Iron Islands, where Prince Daemon Targaryen presided over his trading fleet, urging his return to the capital to assume the esteemed mantle of Hand of the King.

Such events reverberated throughout the Seven Kingdoms, stirring unrest among the nobility, who harbored apprehensions regarding the impending rule of Prince Daemon Targaryen as Hand Of The King. His shadowed reputation, tainted by the dark deeds committed against House Darklyn during the Defiance of Duskendale, cast a pall of uncertainty over the realm.

Lord Jon Arryn, the stalwart Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East, found himself disquieted by the sudden upheavals, reportedly remarking, "Make no mistake, even though King Aerys II occupies the Iron Throne, it is the Golden Prince of Duskendale who shall wield true power—a hand as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was."

Yet, these words found themselves mired in dispute, as the Warden of the East vehemently denied ever uttering such ominous sentiments upon his encounter with Prince Daemon.

With the return of the prince from the Iron Islands, sweeping changes unfurled within the hallowed chambers of the Small Council.

"The Hour of the Golden Dragon has dawned," proclaimed Prince Daemon during his inaugural Small Council meeting as Hand of the King, signaling the onset of a new era in the annals of Westerosi history.

 - An Excerpt from Fire and Blood written By Archmaestser Gyldayn