When two people from the modern world replace Aerys and Rhaella, one would expect things to get much better. However what no one expected was for them to be even more unhinged than the original Aerys. Chaos ensues.
The Coins Flipped Twice (ASOIAF-SI)
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Rhaella I
Dawn_Star
Dawn1000
- Pronouns
- She/Her
A/N: Before everyone reads this, I would like to make a disclaimer. This is partially a crack fic and these reincarnations are not me or anyone I know. Nor are they good people. In fact, they're actually quite despicable. And I mean truly abhorrent. Their actions are not meant to be praised. If that bothers you, thanks for being interested enough in the premise to click on the fic! If it doesn't: I hope you enjoy the ride 
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Signed Richard M. Nixon
Rhaella is four years old when she tries to murder Aerys. It goes like this: she's sitting at Mama's feet, playing with one of their dolls as Aerys demands to be lifted up by Papa, when the awareness strikes her. Aerys is growing too big to be lifted up by Papa, who is thin and frail, but he does so with a grunt anyways, and they laugh together. Mama watches on fondly as she threads her fingers through Rhaella's hair, a small smile playing out across her lips, and something about the scene makes something shift inside of her. Something previously asleep stirs at the back of her mind.
Papa lets Aerys down and he runs to Rhaella and Mama, his silver-gold hair bouncing as he moves, pale violet eyes shining, and a pain begins to form between her eyes. Mama beams and says, "How are you, Aerys? My handsome little prince." And that does it.
Rhaella yelps as she clutches at her head and a wave of pain crashes over her. The hand in her mother's hair stills and she can hear her father's concerned voice through the waves of pain. But it is not them she is focused on. She looks at her brother and the name 'Aerys' echoes through her mind over and over again. She is suddenly, acutely aware of where and who she is.
As the boy who will become the Mad King stares back at her curiously, only one thought passest through her mind.
Oh hell no.
How does one react when, after regaining memories of their past life, they realize they are the sister of Aerys fucking Targaryen? And that they're damned to marry him because of some stupid plot from a woodswitch? All things considered, Rhaella thinks her tantrum is warranted. She isn't proud of it, but well, she doesn't blame herself.
That being said, it results in her parents panicking and rushing her to the nursery, where they do their best to soothe her. "Rest easy, little one," Jaehaerys – her father, she supposes – says.
Her mother kisses her forehead and strokes her hair soothingly. "Would you like to stay with us?" she asks. Rhaella shakes her head. She wants to be alone. Needs to be alone. Her head aches. And she is too tired to be dealing with horseshit right now.
Her parents exchange worried glances, but obey her wishes. Aerys, who is still staring at her with wide eyes, leaves along with them.
In the newfound silence of the nursery, she stares up blankly at the ceiling. The pain between her eyes worsens. Then she takes a nearby pillow, shoves her face into the fabric, and screams.
Three words cycle through her mind over and over again.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.
Rhaella is left alone for a while after that, and she's very grateful for that. She must look like a wreck, with her face red from screaming and her hair a mess, feathered pillows ripped out across the floor in her spell of rage. She smooths down her dress and sucks in large gasps of air. Something pierces at her chest, claws its way up her throat and makes it tighten in anger. It isn't fear; no, Rhaella is furious. Rage burns through her, making her feel too hot beneath her skin. Her hands tighten to fists.
It's unfair. So unfair. She'd finally just gotten a book deal, finally just finished her first major project. It had been a massive success. There had been people lining up to get copies at bookstores, and had been critically acclaimed. Her popularity had been about to explode, and then she'd been… run over by a car?
Rhaella's jaw clenches. What a disgraceful death. What a generic one. As if dying wasn't bad enough, she had to go out like she was in some shitty isekai anime. Couldn't she have died in a blaze of glory? Maybe been poisoned by a jealous ex? Why had her death needed to be so mind numbingly boring? She hopes she'd managed to take out the asshole who'd ran her off the road too. Or at least, she thinks viscerally, that he's now behind bars for the rest of his life, with his family dying from starvation with him being unable to support them.
That's what the fucking bastard gets for killing me while drunk driving.
Her rage only seems to heighten. It isn't fair, she thinks again. I deserve better than to be stuck in this shithole work now because of terrible luck. She does not want to be a woman in this world; does not want to lose her fame and popularity from her last life. And she certainly doesn't want to be the fucking Mad King's wife. If she's going to be in this world, it will be without having to rely on him , whether it be as his wife — which is overwhelmingly likely — or simply as his sister.
Wait a second—
She gets an idea. And suddenly, it's like a lightbulb has turned on over her head.
Then the door to the nursery cracks open. Her head snaps up. Before her stands Aerys. He is wearing a little black tunic slipped beneath a black and red doublet, the shape of twirling dragons stitched onto the fabric. His hair, more golden than silver, rests just beneath his ears in loose waves. His face, plump with the fat of childhood, has been creased into a frown at the sight of her.
"Rhaella," he says, toddling over to her, "how are you feeling?"
It takes everything in her not to laugh. She truly, utterly can't believe her luck. She pats the floor beside her and he sits, pale violet eyes wide and round. She shifts, moving to prop herself up on her knees. Aerys can't marry her if he's dead. He can't make her life hell, or sell her off to be a broodmare somewhere. And he certainly can't force her to give birth to Rhaegar Targaryen, the fuckwit. Besides, she thinks, she'll be doing the realm a favor. She's doing with Aerys what Maegor should have done with Aenys."
Her fingers twitch.
And then Rhaella leaping at him, hands outstretched and knees bent before she springs, and he's opening his arms as if to let her hug him. She bares her teeth into a sharp grin, fingers going to claw at him, and he yelps as they both go crashing onto the floor.
Her fingers sink into the soft skin of his throat, hands closing around it. She tightens her grip as he struggles beneath her, wheezing, and bears all of her weight down over him.
But she's a four year old girl and at this age, one year makes an enormous difference. Wheezing, Aerys swipes at her face and twists beneath her and she hisses. Then, rolling to the side, he throws her off of him.
"You crazy bitch," he gasps, clutching at his throat. She gives him no chance to recover, taking a pillow and throwing it at his head. It hits him and he grunts, staggering. He barely manages to beat back her next lunge and they both go sprawling to the floor. They land by a table and a vase goes clattering to the floor. It shatters into porcelain pieces beside them. He grabs one of her wrists and snarls. "What the fuck," he spits, "this wasn't in canon."
Rhaella freezes and he sinks his elbow into her stomach. She chokes out a cry. Raising her hands, she claws at his eyes and he grunts. She manages to push him off of her and grabs him by the collar. "What did you just say?" she demands. He groans and she shakes him. "What did you say about canon?"
Aerys' eyes narrow. Then they widen. "Now wait a damn minute–"
Before he can say anything more, the door is opening and two sets of footsteps are rushing in. Their heads snap up in unison; it's their parents, alarmed by the commotion, if the looks on their faces are anything to go by.
Jaehaerys and Shaera look at their children. Then they look at the mess of the room. Then they look back at their children. Huge smiles break out across their faces.
"Oh," Shaera says, clapping, "I am glad to see you feeling better Rhaella!" Tone teasing, she adds, "You cannot be too upset if you are playing with your brother."
The two children who were fighting for their lives on the floor just seconds ago stare at her in stunned silence. Then Rhaella says, flatly, "What?" She barely doesn't add 'the fuck' to the end of that. Barely.
A/N: This fic is being beta-ed by @GeekyOwl , who is being extremely helpful and encouraging all of my worst impulses. A big thanks to him. His fic, 'A Brother by Choice,' is awesome. You should all check it out!
Signed Richard M. Nixon
Rhaella is four years old when she tries to murder Aerys. It goes like this: she's sitting at Mama's feet, playing with one of their dolls as Aerys demands to be lifted up by Papa, when the awareness strikes her. Aerys is growing too big to be lifted up by Papa, who is thin and frail, but he does so with a grunt anyways, and they laugh together. Mama watches on fondly as she threads her fingers through Rhaella's hair, a small smile playing out across her lips, and something about the scene makes something shift inside of her. Something previously asleep stirs at the back of her mind.
Papa lets Aerys down and he runs to Rhaella and Mama, his silver-gold hair bouncing as he moves, pale violet eyes shining, and a pain begins to form between her eyes. Mama beams and says, "How are you, Aerys? My handsome little prince." And that does it.
Rhaella yelps as she clutches at her head and a wave of pain crashes over her. The hand in her mother's hair stills and she can hear her father's concerned voice through the waves of pain. But it is not them she is focused on. She looks at her brother and the name 'Aerys' echoes through her mind over and over again. She is suddenly, acutely aware of where and who she is.
As the boy who will become the Mad King stares back at her curiously, only one thought passest through her mind.
Oh hell no.
How does one react when, after regaining memories of their past life, they realize they are the sister of Aerys fucking Targaryen? And that they're damned to marry him because of some stupid plot from a woodswitch? All things considered, Rhaella thinks her tantrum is warranted. She isn't proud of it, but well, she doesn't blame herself.
That being said, it results in her parents panicking and rushing her to the nursery, where they do their best to soothe her. "Rest easy, little one," Jaehaerys – her father, she supposes – says.
Her mother kisses her forehead and strokes her hair soothingly. "Would you like to stay with us?" she asks. Rhaella shakes her head. She wants to be alone. Needs to be alone. Her head aches. And she is too tired to be dealing with horseshit right now.
Her parents exchange worried glances, but obey her wishes. Aerys, who is still staring at her with wide eyes, leaves along with them.
In the newfound silence of the nursery, she stares up blankly at the ceiling. The pain between her eyes worsens. Then she takes a nearby pillow, shoves her face into the fabric, and screams.
Three words cycle through her mind over and over again.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.
Rhaella is left alone for a while after that, and she's very grateful for that. She must look like a wreck, with her face red from screaming and her hair a mess, feathered pillows ripped out across the floor in her spell of rage. She smooths down her dress and sucks in large gasps of air. Something pierces at her chest, claws its way up her throat and makes it tighten in anger. It isn't fear; no, Rhaella is furious. Rage burns through her, making her feel too hot beneath her skin. Her hands tighten to fists.
It's unfair. So unfair. She'd finally just gotten a book deal, finally just finished her first major project. It had been a massive success. There had been people lining up to get copies at bookstores, and had been critically acclaimed. Her popularity had been about to explode, and then she'd been… run over by a car?
Rhaella's jaw clenches. What a disgraceful death. What a generic one. As if dying wasn't bad enough, she had to go out like she was in some shitty isekai anime. Couldn't she have died in a blaze of glory? Maybe been poisoned by a jealous ex? Why had her death needed to be so mind numbingly boring? She hopes she'd managed to take out the asshole who'd ran her off the road too. Or at least, she thinks viscerally, that he's now behind bars for the rest of his life, with his family dying from starvation with him being unable to support them.
That's what the fucking bastard gets for killing me while drunk driving.
Her rage only seems to heighten. It isn't fair, she thinks again. I deserve better than to be stuck in this shithole work now because of terrible luck. She does not want to be a woman in this world; does not want to lose her fame and popularity from her last life. And she certainly doesn't want to be the fucking Mad King's wife. If she's going to be in this world, it will be without having to rely on him , whether it be as his wife — which is overwhelmingly likely — or simply as his sister.
Wait a second—
She gets an idea. And suddenly, it's like a lightbulb has turned on over her head.
Then the door to the nursery cracks open. Her head snaps up. Before her stands Aerys. He is wearing a little black tunic slipped beneath a black and red doublet, the shape of twirling dragons stitched onto the fabric. His hair, more golden than silver, rests just beneath his ears in loose waves. His face, plump with the fat of childhood, has been creased into a frown at the sight of her.
"Rhaella," he says, toddling over to her, "how are you feeling?"
It takes everything in her not to laugh. She truly, utterly can't believe her luck. She pats the floor beside her and he sits, pale violet eyes wide and round. She shifts, moving to prop herself up on her knees. Aerys can't marry her if he's dead. He can't make her life hell, or sell her off to be a broodmare somewhere. And he certainly can't force her to give birth to Rhaegar Targaryen, the fuckwit. Besides, she thinks, she'll be doing the realm a favor. She's doing with Aerys what Maegor should have done with Aenys."
Her fingers twitch.
And then Rhaella leaping at him, hands outstretched and knees bent before she springs, and he's opening his arms as if to let her hug him. She bares her teeth into a sharp grin, fingers going to claw at him, and he yelps as they both go crashing onto the floor.
Her fingers sink into the soft skin of his throat, hands closing around it. She tightens her grip as he struggles beneath her, wheezing, and bears all of her weight down over him.
But she's a four year old girl and at this age, one year makes an enormous difference. Wheezing, Aerys swipes at her face and twists beneath her and she hisses. Then, rolling to the side, he throws her off of him.
"You crazy bitch," he gasps, clutching at his throat. She gives him no chance to recover, taking a pillow and throwing it at his head. It hits him and he grunts, staggering. He barely manages to beat back her next lunge and they both go sprawling to the floor. They land by a table and a vase goes clattering to the floor. It shatters into porcelain pieces beside them. He grabs one of her wrists and snarls. "What the fuck," he spits, "this wasn't in canon."
Rhaella freezes and he sinks his elbow into her stomach. She chokes out a cry. Raising her hands, she claws at his eyes and he grunts. She manages to push him off of her and grabs him by the collar. "What did you just say?" she demands. He groans and she shakes him. "What did you say about canon?"
Aerys' eyes narrow. Then they widen. "Now wait a damn minute–"
Before he can say anything more, the door is opening and two sets of footsteps are rushing in. Their heads snap up in unison; it's their parents, alarmed by the commotion, if the looks on their faces are anything to go by.
Jaehaerys and Shaera look at their children. Then they look at the mess of the room. Then they look back at their children. Huge smiles break out across their faces.
"Oh," Shaera says, clapping, "I am glad to see you feeling better Rhaella!" Tone teasing, she adds, "You cannot be too upset if you are playing with your brother."
The two children who were fighting for their lives on the floor just seconds ago stare at her in stunned silence. Then Rhaella says, flatly, "What?" She barely doesn't add 'the fuck' to the end of that. Barely.
A/N: This fic is being beta-ed by @GeekyOwl , who is being extremely helpful and encouraging all of my worst impulses. A big thanks to him. His fic, 'A Brother by Choice,' is awesome. You should all check it out!
Last edited:
StrangerDanger51
Novice Writer
- Location
- New Zealand
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Its always fun when there are two SI's. This will be interesting
Aerys I
Aerys I
"Okay, what the actual fuck?" Rhaella told Aerys once their "parents" left them.
He found himself wondering the very same thing. One moment he was doing his usual daily routine. Cursing the damned truck driver that had gotten him into Westeros, and plotting who exactly he would have to remove once he became King. The next, his baby "sister" was trying to strangle him.
The adrenaline was still flowing through him as he eyed Rhaella wearily. Quickly he tried assessing if she would attack him again. A part of him wanted to leap on her then and there, overpower her and make sure she never had the chance to try and kill him again. He could picture it, a battle similar to the one before, but this time with his hands wrapped around her throat as her purple eyes, bright with madness, bugged out and her face went red, the light in them eventually dying.
It's fine, if she tries that again you can still overpower her, no need for that, he reminded himself. The urge was still there.
"I might ask you the same," he said instead, moving a hand to his throat. The bruises along their stung as his fingers made contact with them. Annoyance twisted in him sharply at that.
"Ah! Oh well, you can't exactly blame me for that, considering how you ended up in canon and all that," she said with a laugh. His annoyance heightened, coupled with disbelief.
"What the fuck!?!?" he said, completely perplexed.
"I mean, you were a rapist mass murderer that got his entire family killed and plunged the realm into war. Great story and all that, but really I was making the world a better place by killing you." She shrugged carelessly, as if she was simply reporting the weather. Aerys had always hated weather reporters.
"You tried to strangle me!!!" he said, aghast.
"Now you don't have to take it personally…" she responded. She frowned as if she was the one being wronged.
He just stared at her, feeling the need to curse whatever malevolent force brought him here. The truck driver, it's the damned truck driver. The urge to strangle her was back. Maybe he could frame it as an accident? It wouldn't be that far from self defense, and after all, she is clearly insane, he wagered, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"Whoa there!" she suddenly said, looking at him. "It was the right thing to do with Aerys. It's fine now that it's clear you're someone else. Speaking of which, I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot," she said, face splitting into a wide grin. "So, are you a book or a show fan?"
Still recovering from the shock, he weighed his options and quickly decided to play along. She was obviously out of her mind, and besides, he did feel very strongly about this particular topic.
"The books obviously. And the good news is, since our father is Jaehaerys, it means that we are in the book verse. That thing really made no sense in the show…" he couldn't help but sneer.
"That's just the show in its entirety." She sniffed proudly. "The books are always better; adaptations are really not worth it."
Well, she may be mad, but at least she has good taste, he thought, nodding fervently.
"Couldn't agree more. Even in episode one they were already adding gratuitous sex," he said with a shudder.
Rhaella nodded, humming in agreement. She grinned at him, her teeth flashing, "It's obvious they used that as a crutch to get success since the common viewer only cares about that."
Aerys grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "Tasteless peasants."
Rhaella's face suddenly fell at that. "We'll have to rule over the tasteless peasants, won't we?"
"Only if we marry each other," he said, the thought holding no appeal whatsoever. Rhaella's face seemed to share the sentiment.
Rhaella pursed her lips. "We likely will, considering Jaehaerys the Second and his trust in the words of a woods witch." Suddenly she brightened. "We could kill Jenny before she brings her, I suppose." The happiness of her expression cemented his view that she was insane. Still, she had a point.
"As you've shown, kind of hard right now. And besides we don't know who it is, or if the prophecy has been made yet." He gave a sigh at that. "Fucking Jaehaerys…"
"Yeah…" Rhaella said. Her easy expression suddenly faded, replaced by a dark look instead. Her jaw clenched and her eyebrows knitted together. "I guess we'll have to deal with that later. Then again, I suppose I am not adverse to the power of being Queen." The lines of her face smoothed over once more.
He wasn't sure how to reply to that. Would he consider her a good Queen? On one hand, having someone also from the real world would be a boon in many ways. She would have a modern mind and have access to canon knowledge, especially book canon because she, for all her madness, had taste. That was one good thing he could say about her right now. At the very least someone would understand him. On the other hand, she was also clearly off her rocker. Then again, she would not make a boring Queen, he contemplated.
"I am not completely opposed to the idea. However, I don't really know you other than from this," he said pointing at his throat. He remembered, vividly, the feeling of her fingers wrapping around it.
"Oh that's a very good point. Right, well," she said, her hands coming to life as they waved about the space around her, "I was a writer back before I joined here, when that fucking truck hit me…"
"You as well, then?" he interrupted.
"Wait, so you got killed by a truck too? Fucking truck-kun…"
Aerys' brow furrowed. "Fucking what?" he muttered, but she went on like she didn't hear him.
"Anyways, I was just about to finally break out, I had this amazing book, which reminds me, we definitely need to bring the printing press to this forsaken world," she said.
Aerys thought about that for a second.
"Do you know how to make a printing press? Because other than its form I don't know how to do it," he said.
"Oh it's fine. I studied it at some point. It's a bit tricky, but if you get the copper matrices for the letters done well it should be fine."
Well, she may be crazy, but at least she's smart, he thought.
"To be entirely fair, we'll need to wait to come to power to do that, and even when we do, it will likely make an enemy of the maesters," he replied.
"Eh, fuck the maesters. We should just as well kill all the gray rats and be done with it." Aerys allowed himself to consider it for a moment, seeing as she wasn't, it seemed, a fool. However, as he did so he came back to the realization that she was mad.
"You can't just kill all the maesters. You'd be setting up the Rebellion 20 years early," he told her in reply.
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. Grudgingly, however, she nodded. The sharp jerk of her chin looked almost comical when matched with the roundness of her childlike face. "Maybe later?" she asked, her voice laced with something like hope.
"We'll have to see. First we need to figure out what is happening, and make a plan," he said.
"Let canon play out, come to power, remove everyone that stands in our way, and make our marks on history?" she offered.
"We'll usher Westeros into a golden age," Aerys said. He did feel that way for the most part, but he also felt the need to placate her. "However, we should also try to see if there is anyone else like us."
Rhaella rested her chin in her palm and grinned sharply from behind her child features.
"Here's to hoping they're not boring. At least you aren't."
"Okay, what the actual fuck?" Rhaella told Aerys once their "parents" left them.
He found himself wondering the very same thing. One moment he was doing his usual daily routine. Cursing the damned truck driver that had gotten him into Westeros, and plotting who exactly he would have to remove once he became King. The next, his baby "sister" was trying to strangle him.
The adrenaline was still flowing through him as he eyed Rhaella wearily. Quickly he tried assessing if she would attack him again. A part of him wanted to leap on her then and there, overpower her and make sure she never had the chance to try and kill him again. He could picture it, a battle similar to the one before, but this time with his hands wrapped around her throat as her purple eyes, bright with madness, bugged out and her face went red, the light in them eventually dying.
It's fine, if she tries that again you can still overpower her, no need for that, he reminded himself. The urge was still there.
"I might ask you the same," he said instead, moving a hand to his throat. The bruises along their stung as his fingers made contact with them. Annoyance twisted in him sharply at that.
"Ah! Oh well, you can't exactly blame me for that, considering how you ended up in canon and all that," she said with a laugh. His annoyance heightened, coupled with disbelief.
"What the fuck!?!?" he said, completely perplexed.
"I mean, you were a rapist mass murderer that got his entire family killed and plunged the realm into war. Great story and all that, but really I was making the world a better place by killing you." She shrugged carelessly, as if she was simply reporting the weather. Aerys had always hated weather reporters.
"You tried to strangle me!!!" he said, aghast.
"Now you don't have to take it personally…" she responded. She frowned as if she was the one being wronged.
He just stared at her, feeling the need to curse whatever malevolent force brought him here. The truck driver, it's the damned truck driver. The urge to strangle her was back. Maybe he could frame it as an accident? It wouldn't be that far from self defense, and after all, she is clearly insane, he wagered, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"Whoa there!" she suddenly said, looking at him. "It was the right thing to do with Aerys. It's fine now that it's clear you're someone else. Speaking of which, I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot," she said, face splitting into a wide grin. "So, are you a book or a show fan?"
Still recovering from the shock, he weighed his options and quickly decided to play along. She was obviously out of her mind, and besides, he did feel very strongly about this particular topic.
"The books obviously. And the good news is, since our father is Jaehaerys, it means that we are in the book verse. That thing really made no sense in the show…" he couldn't help but sneer.
"That's just the show in its entirety." She sniffed proudly. "The books are always better; adaptations are really not worth it."
Well, she may be mad, but at least she has good taste, he thought, nodding fervently.
"Couldn't agree more. Even in episode one they were already adding gratuitous sex," he said with a shudder.
Rhaella nodded, humming in agreement. She grinned at him, her teeth flashing, "It's obvious they used that as a crutch to get success since the common viewer only cares about that."
Aerys grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "Tasteless peasants."
Rhaella's face suddenly fell at that. "We'll have to rule over the tasteless peasants, won't we?"
"Only if we marry each other," he said, the thought holding no appeal whatsoever. Rhaella's face seemed to share the sentiment.
Rhaella pursed her lips. "We likely will, considering Jaehaerys the Second and his trust in the words of a woods witch." Suddenly she brightened. "We could kill Jenny before she brings her, I suppose." The happiness of her expression cemented his view that she was insane. Still, she had a point.
"As you've shown, kind of hard right now. And besides we don't know who it is, or if the prophecy has been made yet." He gave a sigh at that. "Fucking Jaehaerys…"
"Yeah…" Rhaella said. Her easy expression suddenly faded, replaced by a dark look instead. Her jaw clenched and her eyebrows knitted together. "I guess we'll have to deal with that later. Then again, I suppose I am not adverse to the power of being Queen." The lines of her face smoothed over once more.
He wasn't sure how to reply to that. Would he consider her a good Queen? On one hand, having someone also from the real world would be a boon in many ways. She would have a modern mind and have access to canon knowledge, especially book canon because she, for all her madness, had taste. That was one good thing he could say about her right now. At the very least someone would understand him. On the other hand, she was also clearly off her rocker. Then again, she would not make a boring Queen, he contemplated.
"I am not completely opposed to the idea. However, I don't really know you other than from this," he said pointing at his throat. He remembered, vividly, the feeling of her fingers wrapping around it.
"Oh that's a very good point. Right, well," she said, her hands coming to life as they waved about the space around her, "I was a writer back before I joined here, when that fucking truck hit me…"
"You as well, then?" he interrupted.
"Wait, so you got killed by a truck too? Fucking truck-kun…"
Aerys' brow furrowed. "Fucking what?" he muttered, but she went on like she didn't hear him.
"Anyways, I was just about to finally break out, I had this amazing book, which reminds me, we definitely need to bring the printing press to this forsaken world," she said.
Aerys thought about that for a second.
"Do you know how to make a printing press? Because other than its form I don't know how to do it," he said.
"Oh it's fine. I studied it at some point. It's a bit tricky, but if you get the copper matrices for the letters done well it should be fine."
Well, she may be crazy, but at least she's smart, he thought.
"To be entirely fair, we'll need to wait to come to power to do that, and even when we do, it will likely make an enemy of the maesters," he replied.
"Eh, fuck the maesters. We should just as well kill all the gray rats and be done with it." Aerys allowed himself to consider it for a moment, seeing as she wasn't, it seemed, a fool. However, as he did so he came back to the realization that she was mad.
"You can't just kill all the maesters. You'd be setting up the Rebellion 20 years early," he told her in reply.
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. Grudgingly, however, she nodded. The sharp jerk of her chin looked almost comical when matched with the roundness of her childlike face. "Maybe later?" she asked, her voice laced with something like hope.
"We'll have to see. First we need to figure out what is happening, and make a plan," he said.
"Let canon play out, come to power, remove everyone that stands in our way, and make our marks on history?" she offered.
"We'll usher Westeros into a golden age," Aerys said. He did feel that way for the most part, but he also felt the need to placate her. "However, we should also try to see if there is anyone else like us."
Rhaella rested her chin in her palm and grinned sharply from behind her child features.
"Here's to hoping they're not boring. At least you aren't."
- Location
- miami
Well they will probably get around to breeding dragons sooner or later. If it was me I would corner off a part of the world and breed them till you have flights of the damn things and then spread it around slowly that if the royal family was ever dethroned or killed off, the dragons would come and burn everything to ash.
Let's see what a crazy king and queen can do when there "HALPING".
Let's see what a crazy king and queen can do when there "HALPING".
Timeskip Snippets
Dawn_Star
Dawn1000
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Jenny
Looking at Jenny of Oldstones, Rhaella could almost begin to understand Duncan the Small. The key word being 'almost.' She was objectively very beautiful, with her sun-kissed skin and warm, honey-brown eyes. Her chestnut hair cascaded down her back and framed her heart shaped face, bringing out the softness of her features. But no matter how fine a sight she made, she could never imagine giving the Throne up like that. Best keep her a mistress, the best of both worlds.
She and Aerys sat in the sprawled mass of books lying across the floor. Uncle Duncan raised an amused eyebrow at the sight of the two of them. Beside him, his wife smiled.
"How are my favorite niece and nephew doing?" he asked.
"You don't have any others," Aerys replied, raising an eyebrow in turn.
"You got me there," he said with a laugh. "Look at them," he said, turning towards his wife. "A year back they were still playing with toy dragons and now they're trying to become Maesters at the Citadel." He smiled proudly. "Just look at all the books!"
At that his wife gave a slightly abashed look that didn't seem to fit. Hmm…
"Do you know how to read?" she asked. Jenny's face flushed and Duncan threw Rhaella a disapproving look.
"No, I do not. Never had any books to read from."
Rhaella felt horror surge through her. Illiteracy was the greatest crime both history and Westeros had committed. She figured at the very least, though, people like Jenny got to live through interesting periods. She shuddered at the thought of people leading boring, normal lives without books.
"Wanna read with me?" she asked, patting the place near her.
"What are you reading?" Jenny asked, naive curiosity on her face.
"Oh it's just a book about the great Ironborn raids." She had to admit, the viking aesthetic really appealed to her.
Duncan's brow furrowed. "And Jaehaerys and Shaera are letting you read such things at your tender age?"
Rhaella shrugged and pointed to Aerys. "He nicked it for me from the library."
From the corner of her eye, she saw him glare at her. His expression smoothed over into a smile as Duncan's eyes went to him. He attempted to look stern, but his lips were twitching. Rhaella grinned and he finally gave in, laughter bubbling from his throat.
"You should not read such things," he said, "but I admire your spirit."
"So wanna sit with me?" she asked Jenny again. She really wanted to talk and spend more time with Jenny. She may have been illiterate, but she was interesting. How could she not be, when she had managed to convince the Prince of Dragonflies to set aside his future throne?
"Be my pleasure," she said, a bit unsure. Rhaella offered her a reassuring smile. She heard Aerys scoff beneath his breath.
Carefully she started showing her several simpler words. As it turned out, someone had taught her her letters, however tying them up into words in meaningful time proved to be more of a struggle. As they went through the page, slowly, Aerys and Duncan got into their own discussion about some seemingly boring thing.
"So," she asked once she was reasonably sure no one was eavesdropping. "I heard a lot about you and my uncle while you were away," she said, ignoring Jenny's look of concern. "Why did the two of you marry?"
"Well, Rhaella, why do all people marry? Because they love each other very much," the woman told her as she would a child. The utter gall. Still she was her curiosity remained, so she chose to keep her cool. She maintained her smile through gritted teeth.
"And that was it? Nothing else that led you to do it?" she asked. She was making an effort to try and understand the woman.
"Well no, that was it, we just wanted to spend our lives together to be one in front of Gods and men." Clearly this wasn't working.
"And how did you convince my uncle to also get into the marriage, with what he lost?" she asked.
"Well, he felt the same, and neither of us wanted to live without the other."
The way she said it was so honest and innocent, she realized that Jenny was an incredible actress. What is she hiding? What were her true intentions? Did she just desire power or did she fight for some greater cause, maybe for the smallfolk. Still she clearly wasn't going to get it from her then and there.
"She definitely did an Anne Boleyn." Aerys said when the two of them were alone again. "She seduced and romanced him but didn't allow him to go all the way until they were married."
"Aye, that makes the most sense," she said, glad for at least the common ground between the two of them.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daeron
"Uncle Daeron is dead," Aerys said, flopping down into a nearby chair. Rhaella looked up from the book she was reading. He recognized the cover and recognized it to be one of the books he had stolen for her from the library.
The one about Maegor, then, he thought. It was the only one she had not yet read. She was a smart one, Rhaella, mad as she was. He had become almost fond of the contrast between her intelligence and her… peculiarities.
"What?" Rhaella said, and he repeated himself, eyebrow twitching. She frowned. "That's a damned shame. He was my favorite uncle."
"Out of two," Aerys said dryly. "In any case, he was a threat."
Rhaella rolled her eyes and waved a hand about lazily. "We have been over this a thousand times," she drawled, "he really wasn't. And if he had been, you know I would have personally impaled him on a stake, favorite uncle or no. Vlad the Impaler had a point; he gets a bad rap."
Aerys bristled in insult. Did she not think him capable of disposing of their enemies? "Not if I had gotten to him first," he said, a tad viciously. Amusement flickered across her face and he forced himself to take a deep breath. To be calm. He was, after all, the level headed one between them. Still, his skin burned with irritation. He shifted the direction of the conversation with the practiced ease that had come with spending years on television.
"It still confuses me how he died," he said, "as a prince and a prince's favorite, he and Jeremy Norridge should have had the best horses, weapons and armor available to them. And if it not as if they were, if word is to be believed, greatly outnumbered."
Rhaella shrugged. "Some people just have shit luck."
He shook his head. "There has to be more to it than that."
In his mind's eye, he pictured how it had happened. Had he taken an arrow to the throat, the metal head ripping through the soft skin there? Had a sword pierced through his chest and carved out his heart? He could picture the blood spurting from the wound, then, the light fading from Daeron's eyes. And what of his beloved Ser Jeremy? Perhaps he had fallen from his horse, crushed by his own mount. The possibilities were endless.
Aerys sat to attention in his chair, curiosity piqued. His fingers twitched. His movement attracted the attention of Rhaella, who looked back up from the book she had resumed reading. "Where are you going?" she asked as he rose from his seat.
"To the library," he said. "I have some reading to do." He really had to get to the bottom of this.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tywin
"We should kill him," Rhaella said almost instantly. Aerys was more surprised that he didn't expect it. He should have, by now, knowing her nature. Three years into this hellscape together, and she still managed to take him off guard.
"He hasn't done anything against us. He shouldn't if we do this right. And we can use him." He tried to reason with her. Her answering look was an unimpressed scowl.
"You do know this is the person who Gregor Clegane'd our whole family?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He grimaced at the reminder. "Only because canon Aerys pushed him too far," he said, "we won't make the same mistake."
If it was possible, her look darkened even more. "Why wait for a man to stab you in the back when you could slit his throat now?" There was a point there. Maybe. And the thought of killing a man as infamous as Tywin Lannister did sound like a prospect that would make them famous.
"Because we will make sure he has no incentive. I don't want to fuck Joanna, and I won't make Jaime a member of the Kingsguard. If you still befriend Joanna and Loreza Martell as per canon, it's only an added benefit."
A strand of silver-gold hair fell over Rhaella's face and covered her eyes. Aerys watched as she blew out a harsh breath, sending the strand fluttering. When she looked at him again, her expression was grudging.
"Just promise me one thing, Aerys."
"What is it?"
Her lips curled back to form some unholy cross between a grin and a snarl. Her teeth bared, she said, "If Tywin Lannister betrays us, I get to handle him myself. And make it painful."
He thought about that.
"That is fair." And I'll help you myself, he didn't add. He knew Rhaella would take that as an insult to her capabilities. So first we try my way and if that doesn't work, we do yours?" he asked.
"Very fair," she said with a nod.
Well, this will be an interesting challenge, he thought. However the thought of having an asset such as Tywin was very appealing, even if he would have to work for it. Maybe later on he could help him exterminate the Reynes? The matter resolved for now, the two of them turned their attention to other matters.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poe-etry
Rhaella published her first piece of writing when she was eleven. She beamed as she held the pamphlet proudly in her hands and presented it to their parents and grandparents. It was just another one of their attempts to see if there were any others like them. Aerys watched on as Shaera flipped through it, her indulgent smile melding into concern, then ill-concealed disturbance. Beside her, Betha Blackwood's expression, on the other hand, grew brighter with each page.
"Oh this is wonderful, granddaughter," she said as she finished reading 'The Cask of Arbor.'
Aerys barely withheld a scoff. Standing next to Rhaella, he whispered. "And all it took for this masterpiece was plagiarism." He could not resist the urge to make a snipe.
Rhaella's eye twitched. Her smile grew strained around the edges, before it morphed into something else.
"Thank you, grandmother. I did struggle on deciding whether to write this or Poe-etry." Aerys resisted the urge to groan. Something must have shown on his face, then, because Rhaella pinched his hand behind their backs. "Both my writing and comedy are genius," she whispered, "appreciate my talent."
"Only when you steal from other writers," he shot back.
Aegon ruffled Rhaella's hair, his look concerned. "What have you been reading, little one?" he asked. Jaehaerys frowned at Aerys, then.
"Her brother has been stealing her books from the library," he said. Then his expression softened. "They are as close as you and I were at their ages, Shaera."
Bile crawled up Aerys' throat. He saw distaste flash, briefly, over Rhaella's face. Both Betha and Aegon grimaced, not even trying to hide the expressions.
"I haven't been stealing her books for ages," he said, trying to move on and get rid of the nausea. She had long terrorized everyone working in the library into obeying her. As they had long discovered, separating her from her books was a dangerous feat to undertake.
Rhaella grinned at him. "Though I have always appreciated the gesture." She patted his hand.
"What project are you thinking of writing next?" Betha Blackwood said with a smile.
Aerys saw Rhaella pause. Her fingers tapped against her forearm before she said, "I was thinking of 'The Tell-Tale Heart.'"
"A romance?" Shaera smiled, looking relieved, and he almost felt bad for her. Almost. But he was too busy resisting the urge to laugh.
Rhaella's smile was all teeth. "Something like that, Mother."
—------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Woods Witch
Aerys and Rhaella were thirteen and twelve respectively when Jenny's woods witch arrived at court at long last. They had sequestered in Rhaella's chambers to debate upon her arrival. Rhaella sat slumped in a chair, watching as Aerys wore a hole into the floor.
"So the question is," she said, bringing attention to the elephant in the room, "do we murder her?"
Aerys stopped pacing and turned to face her. "Maybe; it certainly would make things easier for us, if we don't want to get married."
Rhaella's fingertips tapped against the wood of the table."Well? Do we or don't we?"
"If it were up to me, I just wouldn't marry," he said.
"And if it were up to me, I'd currently lean towards Loreza Martell. However, we both know that's not how it works."
Aerys gave a grudging nod at that. He clasped his hands behind his back, the line of his mouth flat. Rhaella sighed.
"So, as of now, we are definitely the only ones coming from our world," she said. They had tried numerous times to locate any other people like then. Her writing had caught on, and yet no one seemed to catch their origins, thus implying no one was from their world. Well either that or they were uncultured swine who she didn't wish to ever meet.
Aerys nodded once more. "We've tried every trick in the book," he said, echoing her thoughts. "It's all but confirmed we're the only ones."
"So where do we go from here?"
Aerys wrinkled his nose. "I have to marry, but I don't want some vapid bride I don't know presented to me, whose only purpose would be to pump out heirs and fulfill the ambitions of some grasping family."
Rhaella hummed in sympathy. "And I don't want some husband who will only treat me as a broodmare and never allow me an ounce of freedom, or let me pick out my favorites once I'm old enough."
"Or even worse, Bonnifer Hasty." he said, his face slightly dark. The man's interest in her had truly and utterly grossed her out, and Aerys too, to the point that she hadn't even had to be the one to arrange his saddle breaking mid-joust. She had only arranged for the maester to botch the bones' healing. She had felt touched by the gesture, then. And enthused too. Perhaps she could get Aerys to have some fun more often from now on.
"So if you don't want to marry a broodmare and I don't want to become a broodmare," Rhaella said, "do we simply… marry each other? Jaehaerys and Shaera are already considering it."
"I guess, if we have to marry anyone, at least we get along?" he asked. "Besides, we trust each other enough to be able to work together as partners. We can't say that for anyone else."
"Partners then," she said with a nod.
"Partners," he agreed.
Looking at Jenny of Oldstones, Rhaella could almost begin to understand Duncan the Small. The key word being 'almost.' She was objectively very beautiful, with her sun-kissed skin and warm, honey-brown eyes. Her chestnut hair cascaded down her back and framed her heart shaped face, bringing out the softness of her features. But no matter how fine a sight she made, she could never imagine giving the Throne up like that. Best keep her a mistress, the best of both worlds.
She and Aerys sat in the sprawled mass of books lying across the floor. Uncle Duncan raised an amused eyebrow at the sight of the two of them. Beside him, his wife smiled.
"How are my favorite niece and nephew doing?" he asked.
"You don't have any others," Aerys replied, raising an eyebrow in turn.
"You got me there," he said with a laugh. "Look at them," he said, turning towards his wife. "A year back they were still playing with toy dragons and now they're trying to become Maesters at the Citadel." He smiled proudly. "Just look at all the books!"
At that his wife gave a slightly abashed look that didn't seem to fit. Hmm…
"Do you know how to read?" she asked. Jenny's face flushed and Duncan threw Rhaella a disapproving look.
"No, I do not. Never had any books to read from."
Rhaella felt horror surge through her. Illiteracy was the greatest crime both history and Westeros had committed. She figured at the very least, though, people like Jenny got to live through interesting periods. She shuddered at the thought of people leading boring, normal lives without books.
"Wanna read with me?" she asked, patting the place near her.
"What are you reading?" Jenny asked, naive curiosity on her face.
"Oh it's just a book about the great Ironborn raids." She had to admit, the viking aesthetic really appealed to her.
Duncan's brow furrowed. "And Jaehaerys and Shaera are letting you read such things at your tender age?"
Rhaella shrugged and pointed to Aerys. "He nicked it for me from the library."
From the corner of her eye, she saw him glare at her. His expression smoothed over into a smile as Duncan's eyes went to him. He attempted to look stern, but his lips were twitching. Rhaella grinned and he finally gave in, laughter bubbling from his throat.
"You should not read such things," he said, "but I admire your spirit."
"So wanna sit with me?" she asked Jenny again. She really wanted to talk and spend more time with Jenny. She may have been illiterate, but she was interesting. How could she not be, when she had managed to convince the Prince of Dragonflies to set aside his future throne?
"Be my pleasure," she said, a bit unsure. Rhaella offered her a reassuring smile. She heard Aerys scoff beneath his breath.
Carefully she started showing her several simpler words. As it turned out, someone had taught her her letters, however tying them up into words in meaningful time proved to be more of a struggle. As they went through the page, slowly, Aerys and Duncan got into their own discussion about some seemingly boring thing.
"So," she asked once she was reasonably sure no one was eavesdropping. "I heard a lot about you and my uncle while you were away," she said, ignoring Jenny's look of concern. "Why did the two of you marry?"
"Well, Rhaella, why do all people marry? Because they love each other very much," the woman told her as she would a child. The utter gall. Still she was her curiosity remained, so she chose to keep her cool. She maintained her smile through gritted teeth.
"And that was it? Nothing else that led you to do it?" she asked. She was making an effort to try and understand the woman.
"Well no, that was it, we just wanted to spend our lives together to be one in front of Gods and men." Clearly this wasn't working.
"And how did you convince my uncle to also get into the marriage, with what he lost?" she asked.
"Well, he felt the same, and neither of us wanted to live without the other."
The way she said it was so honest and innocent, she realized that Jenny was an incredible actress. What is she hiding? What were her true intentions? Did she just desire power or did she fight for some greater cause, maybe for the smallfolk. Still she clearly wasn't going to get it from her then and there.
"She definitely did an Anne Boleyn." Aerys said when the two of them were alone again. "She seduced and romanced him but didn't allow him to go all the way until they were married."
"Aye, that makes the most sense," she said, glad for at least the common ground between the two of them.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daeron
"Uncle Daeron is dead," Aerys said, flopping down into a nearby chair. Rhaella looked up from the book she was reading. He recognized the cover and recognized it to be one of the books he had stolen for her from the library.
The one about Maegor, then, he thought. It was the only one she had not yet read. She was a smart one, Rhaella, mad as she was. He had become almost fond of the contrast between her intelligence and her… peculiarities.
"What?" Rhaella said, and he repeated himself, eyebrow twitching. She frowned. "That's a damned shame. He was my favorite uncle."
"Out of two," Aerys said dryly. "In any case, he was a threat."
Rhaella rolled her eyes and waved a hand about lazily. "We have been over this a thousand times," she drawled, "he really wasn't. And if he had been, you know I would have personally impaled him on a stake, favorite uncle or no. Vlad the Impaler had a point; he gets a bad rap."
Aerys bristled in insult. Did she not think him capable of disposing of their enemies? "Not if I had gotten to him first," he said, a tad viciously. Amusement flickered across her face and he forced himself to take a deep breath. To be calm. He was, after all, the level headed one between them. Still, his skin burned with irritation. He shifted the direction of the conversation with the practiced ease that had come with spending years on television.
"It still confuses me how he died," he said, "as a prince and a prince's favorite, he and Jeremy Norridge should have had the best horses, weapons and armor available to them. And if it not as if they were, if word is to be believed, greatly outnumbered."
Rhaella shrugged. "Some people just have shit luck."
He shook his head. "There has to be more to it than that."
In his mind's eye, he pictured how it had happened. Had he taken an arrow to the throat, the metal head ripping through the soft skin there? Had a sword pierced through his chest and carved out his heart? He could picture the blood spurting from the wound, then, the light fading from Daeron's eyes. And what of his beloved Ser Jeremy? Perhaps he had fallen from his horse, crushed by his own mount. The possibilities were endless.
Aerys sat to attention in his chair, curiosity piqued. His fingers twitched. His movement attracted the attention of Rhaella, who looked back up from the book she had resumed reading. "Where are you going?" she asked as he rose from his seat.
"To the library," he said. "I have some reading to do." He really had to get to the bottom of this.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tywin
"We should kill him," Rhaella said almost instantly. Aerys was more surprised that he didn't expect it. He should have, by now, knowing her nature. Three years into this hellscape together, and she still managed to take him off guard.
"He hasn't done anything against us. He shouldn't if we do this right. And we can use him." He tried to reason with her. Her answering look was an unimpressed scowl.
"You do know this is the person who Gregor Clegane'd our whole family?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He grimaced at the reminder. "Only because canon Aerys pushed him too far," he said, "we won't make the same mistake."
If it was possible, her look darkened even more. "Why wait for a man to stab you in the back when you could slit his throat now?" There was a point there. Maybe. And the thought of killing a man as infamous as Tywin Lannister did sound like a prospect that would make them famous.
"Because we will make sure he has no incentive. I don't want to fuck Joanna, and I won't make Jaime a member of the Kingsguard. If you still befriend Joanna and Loreza Martell as per canon, it's only an added benefit."
A strand of silver-gold hair fell over Rhaella's face and covered her eyes. Aerys watched as she blew out a harsh breath, sending the strand fluttering. When she looked at him again, her expression was grudging.
"Just promise me one thing, Aerys."
"What is it?"
Her lips curled back to form some unholy cross between a grin and a snarl. Her teeth bared, she said, "If Tywin Lannister betrays us, I get to handle him myself. And make it painful."
He thought about that.
"That is fair." And I'll help you myself, he didn't add. He knew Rhaella would take that as an insult to her capabilities. So first we try my way and if that doesn't work, we do yours?" he asked.
"Very fair," she said with a nod.
Well, this will be an interesting challenge, he thought. However the thought of having an asset such as Tywin was very appealing, even if he would have to work for it. Maybe later on he could help him exterminate the Reynes? The matter resolved for now, the two of them turned their attention to other matters.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poe-etry
Rhaella published her first piece of writing when she was eleven. She beamed as she held the pamphlet proudly in her hands and presented it to their parents and grandparents. It was just another one of their attempts to see if there were any others like them. Aerys watched on as Shaera flipped through it, her indulgent smile melding into concern, then ill-concealed disturbance. Beside her, Betha Blackwood's expression, on the other hand, grew brighter with each page.
"Oh this is wonderful, granddaughter," she said as she finished reading 'The Cask of Arbor.'
Aerys barely withheld a scoff. Standing next to Rhaella, he whispered. "And all it took for this masterpiece was plagiarism." He could not resist the urge to make a snipe.
Rhaella's eye twitched. Her smile grew strained around the edges, before it morphed into something else.
"Thank you, grandmother. I did struggle on deciding whether to write this or Poe-etry." Aerys resisted the urge to groan. Something must have shown on his face, then, because Rhaella pinched his hand behind their backs. "Both my writing and comedy are genius," she whispered, "appreciate my talent."
"Only when you steal from other writers," he shot back.
Aegon ruffled Rhaella's hair, his look concerned. "What have you been reading, little one?" he asked. Jaehaerys frowned at Aerys, then.
"Her brother has been stealing her books from the library," he said. Then his expression softened. "They are as close as you and I were at their ages, Shaera."
Bile crawled up Aerys' throat. He saw distaste flash, briefly, over Rhaella's face. Both Betha and Aegon grimaced, not even trying to hide the expressions.
"I haven't been stealing her books for ages," he said, trying to move on and get rid of the nausea. She had long terrorized everyone working in the library into obeying her. As they had long discovered, separating her from her books was a dangerous feat to undertake.
Rhaella grinned at him. "Though I have always appreciated the gesture." She patted his hand.
"What project are you thinking of writing next?" Betha Blackwood said with a smile.
Aerys saw Rhaella pause. Her fingers tapped against her forearm before she said, "I was thinking of 'The Tell-Tale Heart.'"
"A romance?" Shaera smiled, looking relieved, and he almost felt bad for her. Almost. But he was too busy resisting the urge to laugh.
Rhaella's smile was all teeth. "Something like that, Mother."
—------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Woods Witch
Aerys and Rhaella were thirteen and twelve respectively when Jenny's woods witch arrived at court at long last. They had sequestered in Rhaella's chambers to debate upon her arrival. Rhaella sat slumped in a chair, watching as Aerys wore a hole into the floor.
"So the question is," she said, bringing attention to the elephant in the room, "do we murder her?"
Aerys stopped pacing and turned to face her. "Maybe; it certainly would make things easier for us, if we don't want to get married."
Rhaella's fingertips tapped against the wood of the table."Well? Do we or don't we?"
"If it were up to me, I just wouldn't marry," he said.
"And if it were up to me, I'd currently lean towards Loreza Martell. However, we both know that's not how it works."
Aerys gave a grudging nod at that. He clasped his hands behind his back, the line of his mouth flat. Rhaella sighed.
"So, as of now, we are definitely the only ones coming from our world," she said. They had tried numerous times to locate any other people like then. Her writing had caught on, and yet no one seemed to catch their origins, thus implying no one was from their world. Well either that or they were uncultured swine who she didn't wish to ever meet.
Aerys nodded once more. "We've tried every trick in the book," he said, echoing her thoughts. "It's all but confirmed we're the only ones."
"So where do we go from here?"
Aerys wrinkled his nose. "I have to marry, but I don't want some vapid bride I don't know presented to me, whose only purpose would be to pump out heirs and fulfill the ambitions of some grasping family."
Rhaella hummed in sympathy. "And I don't want some husband who will only treat me as a broodmare and never allow me an ounce of freedom, or let me pick out my favorites once I'm old enough."
"Or even worse, Bonnifer Hasty." he said, his face slightly dark. The man's interest in her had truly and utterly grossed her out, and Aerys too, to the point that she hadn't even had to be the one to arrange his saddle breaking mid-joust. She had only arranged for the maester to botch the bones' healing. She had felt touched by the gesture, then. And enthused too. Perhaps she could get Aerys to have some fun more often from now on.
"So if you don't want to marry a broodmare and I don't want to become a broodmare," Rhaella said, "do we simply… marry each other? Jaehaerys and Shaera are already considering it."
"I guess, if we have to marry anyone, at least we get along?" he asked. "Besides, we trust each other enough to be able to work together as partners. We can't say that for anyone else."
"Partners then," she said with a nod.
"Partners," he agreed.
AzraelvonGruber
probably should put something here...
- Location
- somewhere in France
Damn, didn't expect the "incest is wincest" meme becoming reality that fast
Anyway i like the dynamic of the two SI
Anyway i like the dynamic of the two SI
Mingo
Son of a Hazmot
Am I the only one getting a whiff of Conrad and Victoria here? These two are more psycho but it feels like that's where it's heading. Revenge reference BTW.
Rhaella II
Rhaella II
Loreza Martell was a beautiful woman with olive skin, curly black hair that fell to her back, and gleaming black eyes. When dressed in the colors she favored — light yellows and bright oranges — she looked positively vibrant. She watched Rhaella with intelligent dark eyes, now, as courtiers flitted about them.
"Are you going to write your next story soon?" Loreza asked.
Rhaella nodded and spared her friend a glance. "Yes."
A slim eyebrow rose and Loreza's full lips curved to form a smirk. "Well? Don't spare the details," she said.
Rhaella rested her chin against her palm. "I was thinking of a murder mystery. 'Ten Little Piglets,' I was thinking of calling it."
Loreza's lips twitched again. "I like the sound of that," she said, "it reminds me a bit of the first work of yours I read."
Rhaella smiled fondly when she remembered that. Her interest in 'The Cask of Arbor' was what had first gotten her and Loreza discussing, and she had been so glad to find someone else who agreed with her on the utter righteousness of the protagonist. Well, besides Aerys, but he was always too busy annoying her over taking inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe. 'Plagiarism,' he called it, as if all great works weren't entirely made up of other great works. Had he never heard of postmodernism? She shoved down her irritation in favor of focusing on one of the only people who had taste in this damnable city.
They were at court, loitering nearby the king and queen whilst Aerys stood with Tywin Lannister and Steffon Baratheon across the hall. Rhaella watched his interaction with the heir to the Westerlands through a narrowed gaze. She still thought murder was the best idea for the man. Oh to be a dwarf with a crossbow…
"And how is little Oberyn?" she asked.
"He is well," the older woman said with a bright smile, which she shared. Out of all the Martells, he was by far her favorite. It was a shame in truth that the Westerosi didn't have the concept of a godmother, otherwise she would have tried to become his. Oh well… she guessed he could serve as a cupbearer or a page later on.
"And so is little Elia. The maesters are convinced she'll be just fine, with no other issues. Speaking of, when do you and Aerys plan on having your first child?" She wasn't exactly being subtle.
Rhaella hid a grimace. The constant reminders of their upcoming duty to have children, which was so unfair especially to her, served as more and more reason why she hated her wedding even more than when she had had to go through it.
And that had been bad enough. Weeks upon weeks of rehearsals, and tight fitting dresses that had to be tested half a million times, as well as taking with every brainless not-deserving-to-be-called lady between the Wall and Dorne. At one point, she had seriously entertained the idea of jabbing a needle through her seamstress' eye, if only to end the torture of it all. Maybe even sow some buttons over her eyes, Coraline style.
The only entertaining part had been the High Septon's obvious discomfort at performing an incestuous marriage. If only he had had the spine to go out and say that and condemn them. That at least would have made the whole wedding entertaining.
They had been dressed in enough clothes that she wondered why knights didn't wear her dresses into battles. It would definitely be thicker than plate armor. And the jewelry Rhaella wore was so heavy she thought her neck might snap.
"Not for a long while," she said curtly. She didn't even want to think about that in truth, not while she had the body of a thirteen-year-old. Not to mention the thought of having to fuck her kinda but not really brother… Though on the bright side, Aerys seemed to be as disturbed by the very notion as she herself was.
At that moment, the herald's voice was heard, drawing everyone's attention to the King.
"My lords," he said. "I have news concerning the running of the realm. My son Jaehaerys has for a long time been the Prince of Dragonstone and learned the art of ruling there. However it is time for him to start ruling his future realm as well. Therefore, when in a few weeks time me and most of the Royal family shall withdraw with our retinues for a stay in the palace of Summerhall, he shall rule in my name during my absence."
Bullshit. Rhaella's eye twitched as she watched Aegon smile benevolently at his court, as if he hadn't just lied blatantly to everyone in the room. The gullible fools seemed to buy it, as the mutterings that followed that declaration seemed more curious and excited than anything else. She withheld a scoff of disgust. Idiots.
The hair at the back of her neck stood up, then, and she looked around the hall for Aerys. He had stopped speaking with Tywin and Steffon, his face ashen. Then he smiled pleasantly and excused himself, moving towards her. His steps were brisk, the line of his mouth tugged downwards.
"Princess, will you allow me a moment with my husband? I see he's looking for me."
Loreza Martell curtsied good naturedly at that. "Of course, Your Grace," she said, bowing out. Quickly after that, Aerys was by her side.
"We need to talk," he said simply, to which she nodded. Wordlessly they started making their way out of the hall towards their rooms, shadowed by their two Kingsguard. However on route to the exit they were assaulted by the rabid piranhas in a feeding frenzy that were the courtiers. Your grace this, your grace that, Rhaella started questioning if Aegon might want human sacrifices for his secret dragon eggs.
Finally, after nearly ordering the Kingsguard to pull their blades on several courtiers, they were in their rooms.
"So, he's obviously full of shit," Aerys said as soon as they were alone.
"Obviously. Which is weird, I haven't seen a whiff of the eggs around here. I was halfway suspecting we might have altered canon by accident." She wasn't sure if that would have been a good or a bad thing.
"So are we going there?" he asked, though his voice suggested he already knew the answer.
"Of course," she replied. "The question is what are we going to do there? Are we going to let things proceed like in canon?"
"I mean, Aegon is going to very conveniently kill all the branches of House Targaryen that might threaten us."
Rhaella squinted at him. "How much of that strategy game where all your vassals revolt, always, did you say you played again?"
He leveled her with an unimpressed look. "It wasn't just 'a strategy game,' it was the best strategy game. Crusader Kings 2. Also, take this seriously, please," he said, and she snickered.
"Fine. Get snobby about your videogames. But in all seriousness, it's the potential of dragons that is the most important thing that could come out of Summerhall. I don't give a damn about any Targaryen brats who aren't our heirs."
"I guess, though I'd still think it's best to remove them," he replied. You've been spending too much time around Tywin, she thought, annoyed at him.
"The dragons, Aerys, let's focus on the dragons," she said firmly.
"Right, well whatever else, we shouldn't allow Aegon to gamble all of the dragons at once," he said.
"So nick two dragon eggs in case shit hits the fan so we can hatch them later?"
"That sounds like a good idea. But with regards to the other ones? Do we try and get them to hatch? Or maybe get Aegon to not burn himself?"
"How would we do that exactly? He's obviously growing desperate, he won't listen to us."
"True. Mayhaps we could try and limit any maester influence. They might have played a part in the disaster," he said.
"Might," she replied, unimpressed. "In any case, I guess we can watch the maesters. But other than that we have nothing to go on at the moment for stopping a disaster," she said.
"So… damage control?" he asked. "We search for the best escape routes for if or more likely when wildfire hits the eggs, get two eggs to safety and watch the maesters for any tampering?"
"Works," she replied. She doubted however the maesters had anything to do with it. Though it would be really fun if they did… She would at least have an excuse to get rid of the untrustworthy bastards. Her fingers flexed at her sides.
And with that, they had their plan.
Loreza Martell was a beautiful woman with olive skin, curly black hair that fell to her back, and gleaming black eyes. When dressed in the colors she favored — light yellows and bright oranges — she looked positively vibrant. She watched Rhaella with intelligent dark eyes, now, as courtiers flitted about them.
"Are you going to write your next story soon?" Loreza asked.
Rhaella nodded and spared her friend a glance. "Yes."
A slim eyebrow rose and Loreza's full lips curved to form a smirk. "Well? Don't spare the details," she said.
Rhaella rested her chin against her palm. "I was thinking of a murder mystery. 'Ten Little Piglets,' I was thinking of calling it."
Loreza's lips twitched again. "I like the sound of that," she said, "it reminds me a bit of the first work of yours I read."
Rhaella smiled fondly when she remembered that. Her interest in 'The Cask of Arbor' was what had first gotten her and Loreza discussing, and she had been so glad to find someone else who agreed with her on the utter righteousness of the protagonist. Well, besides Aerys, but he was always too busy annoying her over taking inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe. 'Plagiarism,' he called it, as if all great works weren't entirely made up of other great works. Had he never heard of postmodernism? She shoved down her irritation in favor of focusing on one of the only people who had taste in this damnable city.
They were at court, loitering nearby the king and queen whilst Aerys stood with Tywin Lannister and Steffon Baratheon across the hall. Rhaella watched his interaction with the heir to the Westerlands through a narrowed gaze. She still thought murder was the best idea for the man. Oh to be a dwarf with a crossbow…
"And how is little Oberyn?" she asked.
"He is well," the older woman said with a bright smile, which she shared. Out of all the Martells, he was by far her favorite. It was a shame in truth that the Westerosi didn't have the concept of a godmother, otherwise she would have tried to become his. Oh well… she guessed he could serve as a cupbearer or a page later on.
"And so is little Elia. The maesters are convinced she'll be just fine, with no other issues. Speaking of, when do you and Aerys plan on having your first child?" She wasn't exactly being subtle.
Rhaella hid a grimace. The constant reminders of their upcoming duty to have children, which was so unfair especially to her, served as more and more reason why she hated her wedding even more than when she had had to go through it.
And that had been bad enough. Weeks upon weeks of rehearsals, and tight fitting dresses that had to be tested half a million times, as well as taking with every brainless not-deserving-to-be-called lady between the Wall and Dorne. At one point, she had seriously entertained the idea of jabbing a needle through her seamstress' eye, if only to end the torture of it all. Maybe even sow some buttons over her eyes, Coraline style.
The only entertaining part had been the High Septon's obvious discomfort at performing an incestuous marriage. If only he had had the spine to go out and say that and condemn them. That at least would have made the whole wedding entertaining.
They had been dressed in enough clothes that she wondered why knights didn't wear her dresses into battles. It would definitely be thicker than plate armor. And the jewelry Rhaella wore was so heavy she thought her neck might snap.
"Not for a long while," she said curtly. She didn't even want to think about that in truth, not while she had the body of a thirteen-year-old. Not to mention the thought of having to fuck her kinda but not really brother… Though on the bright side, Aerys seemed to be as disturbed by the very notion as she herself was.
At that moment, the herald's voice was heard, drawing everyone's attention to the King.
"My lords," he said. "I have news concerning the running of the realm. My son Jaehaerys has for a long time been the Prince of Dragonstone and learned the art of ruling there. However it is time for him to start ruling his future realm as well. Therefore, when in a few weeks time me and most of the Royal family shall withdraw with our retinues for a stay in the palace of Summerhall, he shall rule in my name during my absence."
Bullshit. Rhaella's eye twitched as she watched Aegon smile benevolently at his court, as if he hadn't just lied blatantly to everyone in the room. The gullible fools seemed to buy it, as the mutterings that followed that declaration seemed more curious and excited than anything else. She withheld a scoff of disgust. Idiots.
The hair at the back of her neck stood up, then, and she looked around the hall for Aerys. He had stopped speaking with Tywin and Steffon, his face ashen. Then he smiled pleasantly and excused himself, moving towards her. His steps were brisk, the line of his mouth tugged downwards.
"Princess, will you allow me a moment with my husband? I see he's looking for me."
Loreza Martell curtsied good naturedly at that. "Of course, Your Grace," she said, bowing out. Quickly after that, Aerys was by her side.
"We need to talk," he said simply, to which she nodded. Wordlessly they started making their way out of the hall towards their rooms, shadowed by their two Kingsguard. However on route to the exit they were assaulted by the rabid piranhas in a feeding frenzy that were the courtiers. Your grace this, your grace that, Rhaella started questioning if Aegon might want human sacrifices for his secret dragon eggs.
Finally, after nearly ordering the Kingsguard to pull their blades on several courtiers, they were in their rooms.
"So, he's obviously full of shit," Aerys said as soon as they were alone.
"Obviously. Which is weird, I haven't seen a whiff of the eggs around here. I was halfway suspecting we might have altered canon by accident." She wasn't sure if that would have been a good or a bad thing.
"So are we going there?" he asked, though his voice suggested he already knew the answer.
"Of course," she replied. "The question is what are we going to do there? Are we going to let things proceed like in canon?"
"I mean, Aegon is going to very conveniently kill all the branches of House Targaryen that might threaten us."
Rhaella squinted at him. "How much of that strategy game where all your vassals revolt, always, did you say you played again?"
He leveled her with an unimpressed look. "It wasn't just 'a strategy game,' it was the best strategy game. Crusader Kings 2. Also, take this seriously, please," he said, and she snickered.
"Fine. Get snobby about your videogames. But in all seriousness, it's the potential of dragons that is the most important thing that could come out of Summerhall. I don't give a damn about any Targaryen brats who aren't our heirs."
"I guess, though I'd still think it's best to remove them," he replied. You've been spending too much time around Tywin, she thought, annoyed at him.
"The dragons, Aerys, let's focus on the dragons," she said firmly.
"Right, well whatever else, we shouldn't allow Aegon to gamble all of the dragons at once," he said.
"So nick two dragon eggs in case shit hits the fan so we can hatch them later?"
"That sounds like a good idea. But with regards to the other ones? Do we try and get them to hatch? Or maybe get Aegon to not burn himself?"
"How would we do that exactly? He's obviously growing desperate, he won't listen to us."
"True. Mayhaps we could try and limit any maester influence. They might have played a part in the disaster," he said.
"Might," she replied, unimpressed. "In any case, I guess we can watch the maesters. But other than that we have nothing to go on at the moment for stopping a disaster," she said.
"So… damage control?" he asked. "We search for the best escape routes for if or more likely when wildfire hits the eggs, get two eggs to safety and watch the maesters for any tampering?"
"Works," she replied. She doubted however the maesters had anything to do with it. Though it would be really fun if they did… She would at least have an excuse to get rid of the untrustworthy bastards. Her fingers flexed at her sides.
And with that, they had their plan.
Rhaella III
Dawn_Star
Dawn1000
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"Would the two of you care to explain yourselves?" Aegon asked, his eyes promising many ill things. From their places behind them, the guards who had escorted Rhaella and Aerys away from the dragon eggs shifted.
"Not really," she wanted to reply. Aerys, almost as if he could sense what she was thinking, cast her a warning look and she ran her tongue along her teeth, wishing to poke it out at him. She couldn't say that, unfortunately. But damn did she want to.
"Trying to get two dragon eggs away," Aerys replied boldly.
"And why did you want to do that?" he asked.
"To prevent you from putting all the eggs in one basket," she couldn't help but reply. Aerys threw her a withering look at her brilliant pun. She wrinkled her nose at him and Aegon's frown deepened. They had no taste, the men in her family. No taste at all.
"What Rhaella is trying to say," Aerys said, and if she didn't know him better, she wouldn't be able to tell he was smiling through gritted teeth, proving that Stannis did indeed share their DNA, "is that withholding two dragon eggs in case anything goes wrong could serve as a good backup. As it is right now, if whatever it is that you plan to do goes wrong and you lose the eggs, that's it. The last dragon eggs of House Targaryen, gone. For good," he replied.
It truly was a horrifying prospect, she thought. Without even the eggs they became no better than the incessant self important rabble that liked to call themselves the "nobles" of Westeros, though in her opinion there was more nobility to be found in Jack the Ripper.
Aegon's eyes flitted between the two of them, lips pursed. Slowly, deliberately, he said, "Aerys, Rhaella, I want you to be very honest with me. How did either of you even hear of the dragon eggs?"
"We heard it from an alternate dimension where an obese serial procrastinator who likely has a taste for hentai gave you a horrible death because he can't deal with any family that has more than 5 members."
The fact that she couldn't say that to his face was eating away at her faster than what one of those Valyrian fire worms. She really wanted to say that to his face. Him and his guards foiling their plan had really pissed her off. Her fingers twitched, itching for something, anything. For a second, she almost wished she still had her wedding pins in her hair. She needed to stick a sharp piece of metal into something. Or a dull one. Come to think of it if it was dull it would hurt more.
"Well, the whole timing of the trip to Summerhall was a little suspicious. Especially how many people you took with you." Aerys had his bullshitting face on. Rhaella scoffed, and then coughed to cover it up. He threw her a slightly dirty look before continuing.
"Furthermore, the nobles have been opposing any and all future reforms. So either you gave up on them, which is unlikely, or you're trying to find a way to bypass the nobles. So when all of that is taken into account, some servants gossiping about dragon eggs doesn't sound that much like gossip anymore," he finished.
Rhaella went from exasperated to mildly impressed at Aerys's bullshitting skills. And fortunately for them, it seemed so was Aegon, though it seemed he wasn't aware of the bullshitting part. He nodded grudgingly.
"Impressive. Attention to detail is an important trait for a future king," he said. "So, you figured out what we are here for, I take it?"
A horribly botched attempt at awakening dragons that somehow has 0 human sacrifices, she thought. Seriously, how could he think that? It was in his house words, fire and blood, how much more obvious did he need it to be that blood magic was involved. Honestly, it was no wonder he'd died a failure in the Tragedy at Summerhall.
"Yes," Aerys replied without further comment.
"Very well. In that case, would you mind explaining how exactly you got in the room to steal those?"
Rhaella smiled. "We snuck in," she said simply, and did not elaborate.
Aegon stared at her for a long second, eyebrow twitching. Then he shook his head and laughed. "The Seven gave me rebellious children," he said, "and now my children's children are driving the stake in."
That sounds like a you problem, she thought. It was after all his fault for how he raised his children. Instead Aerys was the one to reply first after a long pause.
"We suspected the place has secret tunnels, courtesy of Bloodraven," he replied. "We were right," he replied smugly. She didn't feel that smug about it. All the crawling through the dirt had really annoyed her. Why couldn't the man build more convenient secret tunnels? Honestly, wasn't he supposed to be some sort of omnipotent god?
"So, you went through all this, frankly extensive amount of thought and effort to sneak in, to do what?" Aegon asked, though a smidge impressed. As he ought to be. She was fairly certain they at the very least deserved a commendation for crawling through the spider webs. Her eye twitched at the memory.
"As we've told you to keep a dragon backup for our house," she replied. Did he have a bad memory? Was the dementia kicking in? It would certainly explain a lot about his plan. Actually, it would explain his entire frankly naively deluded reign. Helping the smallfolk in a medieval society? What the fuck was that, anyway?
"And why did you think one was even necessary?" Aegon asked, his face bearing the look of long suffering. Long suffering from everyone else, or illness?
"Well first and foremost, if the company here is any guess, a lot of them would be useless or outright detrimental. Dragons are creatures of magic. Their death snuffed out the glass candles. They were likely created with magic, and we know that they were made allies with magic. And yet, there are entirely too many maesters here for them not to be involved."
"The maesters are the keepers of our knowledge," Aegon replied with a raised eyebrow.
"And also believe magic isn't real," she retorted. That was so infuriatingly stupid, she felt the need to strangle one with his own chain. In this world, how could one not believe in magic? There had been literal dragons flying around a century ago! Even worse, how would one even think to remove magic? It seemed to be one of the few cool things about the shitshow of a continent they were on, and the grey chucklefucks seemed hell bent on rooting it out. Meanwhile, the faith of the Seven were most likely determined to do the same. They were probably just jealous that their lame-ass gods didn't have any powers.
"That may be. But they still have knowledge that is useful," Aegon countered.
"Very well. In that case all I'll ask is, where are the sacrifices?" Where are the freshly cut still beating hearts? The rivers of blood? she wanted to add, but decided it might not help.
"Our house words are fire and blood. You cannot birth dragons without blood magic. Surely you know that," she said instead.
"Trust me, my granddaughter," he said with a patronizing tone, and if she had little interest in saving him before, she was even less keen on it now. "Wiser and more learned people have been consulted on the matter, and while blood magic is indeed needed, the magic is in our blood, the blood of Old Valyria."
Well, maybe if you sacrifice cousin Maegor, that could work, she thought, but she was pretty sure that wasn't what he meant. A pity; that would at least make Aerys happy and get him to stop having gaming induced hallucinations fueled by his paranoia, no matter how much he insisted they were perfectly logical.
"Well even so, the possibility of failure is there, is it not?" Aerys stepped in.
"Yes," Aegon grudgingly agreed. She wanted to stick her tongue at him at that. Way to go Aerys!
"Then why risk everything? If two dragon eggs survive, then we can try again. More than that, the dragon eggs are a symbol of legitimacy. We lost the dragons themselves. The Crown of Aegon I was lost in Dorne, Blackfyre was lost to the Golden Company, and Dark Sister with Bloodraven. The eggs, are the last true heirloom of House Targaryen," he finished.
"That is true," Aegon said with a nod.
"And finally, five eggs are more than enough," he said, and she quickly went from wanting to cheer for him to wanting to slap him. This shit again? Really? He wasn't wrong – though she would never admit that to his face, he'd be far too smug – but she was so sick of his obsession after having had to put up with it for so long.
"Is it really?" Aegon asked challengingly.
"Why yes," he said with a bold smile. "Me, Rhaella, you, and mother and father."
Rhaella withheld a groan as the king's expression darkened.
"And what of your Uncle Duncan?" he asked.
"That is a terrible idea. Why would you do that to the succession?"
Even as he blew up their prospects of pulling this plan off, she had to agree with him there. Honestly, the more she saw of Aegon, the more she became convinced he wasn't the sharpest knife in the Jon Snow.
"Are you implying your Uncle would try to claim the Throne for himself?"
"Not at all. Mayhaps not even his sons or daughters? With a dragon, power is at everyone's fingertips, is it not? A grandson, married into an ambitious family, hearing so long that his line comes from the firstborn son of Aegon V, that deserve to be above the spawn of Jaehaerys II. At the very least, Prince Duncan didn't marry his sister, right?" he said, emphasizing his words, before taking a pause.
Personally, Rhaella would be insulted if one of her descendants got taken out by one of Jenny's. She found the woman fun enough, she supposed, but she had no spine.
"And so, eventually this grandson would become convinced that maybe the Throne would indeed be his. And with a dragon at his beck and call, he'd have the power to enforce that!" he said, gesticulating dramatically. "Would he not, grandfather?"
"Mayhaps," Aegon said grudgingly. "And yet who can predict the future? There's no telling what may happen."
Good gods. He really did want a second Dance, didn't he? Not that Rhaella was necessarily against it as long as her side won, of course, and put on a great show doing it – a good civil war was always effective in putting a ruling family on edge – but still.
"No, there is not, but should you not take every precaution? Think of your legacy," he added. "Presuming the dragons do hatch, what do you want to be remembered as? The Good King, that made the smallfolk of the Seven Kingdoms actually be treated like human beings, and who restored House Targaryen to heights never before seen, or the second Viserys I, who in his mismanagement of his family set the stage for a second Dance?"
Once again, Rhaella was reminded of how Aerys was the best bullshitter to have ever bullshitted in Westeros. She was shocked the flies hadn't started sticking to him yet.
There was a long pause after that, no one daring to say anything.
"What exactly do you propose?" Aegon finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Just give us two dragon eggs. Call it a late wedding present? Or an investment into the security of House Targaryen. There's nothing to lose, and everything to be gained," he finished with a smile.
As Aegon nodded, Rhaella looked at Aerys, in large part pride and joy, but also squinting, wondering just how much snake oil he had sold back in their world. She was almost sad they hadn't gotten the chance to swindle people together. But oh well, this life was more interesting anyways.
"Not really," she wanted to reply. Aerys, almost as if he could sense what she was thinking, cast her a warning look and she ran her tongue along her teeth, wishing to poke it out at him. She couldn't say that, unfortunately. But damn did she want to.
"Trying to get two dragon eggs away," Aerys replied boldly.
"And why did you want to do that?" he asked.
"To prevent you from putting all the eggs in one basket," she couldn't help but reply. Aerys threw her a withering look at her brilliant pun. She wrinkled her nose at him and Aegon's frown deepened. They had no taste, the men in her family. No taste at all.
"What Rhaella is trying to say," Aerys said, and if she didn't know him better, she wouldn't be able to tell he was smiling through gritted teeth, proving that Stannis did indeed share their DNA, "is that withholding two dragon eggs in case anything goes wrong could serve as a good backup. As it is right now, if whatever it is that you plan to do goes wrong and you lose the eggs, that's it. The last dragon eggs of House Targaryen, gone. For good," he replied.
It truly was a horrifying prospect, she thought. Without even the eggs they became no better than the incessant self important rabble that liked to call themselves the "nobles" of Westeros, though in her opinion there was more nobility to be found in Jack the Ripper.
Aegon's eyes flitted between the two of them, lips pursed. Slowly, deliberately, he said, "Aerys, Rhaella, I want you to be very honest with me. How did either of you even hear of the dragon eggs?"
"We heard it from an alternate dimension where an obese serial procrastinator who likely has a taste for hentai gave you a horrible death because he can't deal with any family that has more than 5 members."
The fact that she couldn't say that to his face was eating away at her faster than what one of those Valyrian fire worms. She really wanted to say that to his face. Him and his guards foiling their plan had really pissed her off. Her fingers twitched, itching for something, anything. For a second, she almost wished she still had her wedding pins in her hair. She needed to stick a sharp piece of metal into something. Or a dull one. Come to think of it if it was dull it would hurt more.
"Well, the whole timing of the trip to Summerhall was a little suspicious. Especially how many people you took with you." Aerys had his bullshitting face on. Rhaella scoffed, and then coughed to cover it up. He threw her a slightly dirty look before continuing.
"Furthermore, the nobles have been opposing any and all future reforms. So either you gave up on them, which is unlikely, or you're trying to find a way to bypass the nobles. So when all of that is taken into account, some servants gossiping about dragon eggs doesn't sound that much like gossip anymore," he finished.
Rhaella went from exasperated to mildly impressed at Aerys's bullshitting skills. And fortunately for them, it seemed so was Aegon, though it seemed he wasn't aware of the bullshitting part. He nodded grudgingly.
"Impressive. Attention to detail is an important trait for a future king," he said. "So, you figured out what we are here for, I take it?"
A horribly botched attempt at awakening dragons that somehow has 0 human sacrifices, she thought. Seriously, how could he think that? It was in his house words, fire and blood, how much more obvious did he need it to be that blood magic was involved. Honestly, it was no wonder he'd died a failure in the Tragedy at Summerhall.
"Yes," Aerys replied without further comment.
"Very well. In that case, would you mind explaining how exactly you got in the room to steal those?"
Rhaella smiled. "We snuck in," she said simply, and did not elaborate.
Aegon stared at her for a long second, eyebrow twitching. Then he shook his head and laughed. "The Seven gave me rebellious children," he said, "and now my children's children are driving the stake in."
That sounds like a you problem, she thought. It was after all his fault for how he raised his children. Instead Aerys was the one to reply first after a long pause.
"We suspected the place has secret tunnels, courtesy of Bloodraven," he replied. "We were right," he replied smugly. She didn't feel that smug about it. All the crawling through the dirt had really annoyed her. Why couldn't the man build more convenient secret tunnels? Honestly, wasn't he supposed to be some sort of omnipotent god?
"So, you went through all this, frankly extensive amount of thought and effort to sneak in, to do what?" Aegon asked, though a smidge impressed. As he ought to be. She was fairly certain they at the very least deserved a commendation for crawling through the spider webs. Her eye twitched at the memory.
"As we've told you to keep a dragon backup for our house," she replied. Did he have a bad memory? Was the dementia kicking in? It would certainly explain a lot about his plan. Actually, it would explain his entire frankly naively deluded reign. Helping the smallfolk in a medieval society? What the fuck was that, anyway?
"And why did you think one was even necessary?" Aegon asked, his face bearing the look of long suffering. Long suffering from everyone else, or illness?
"Well first and foremost, if the company here is any guess, a lot of them would be useless or outright detrimental. Dragons are creatures of magic. Their death snuffed out the glass candles. They were likely created with magic, and we know that they were made allies with magic. And yet, there are entirely too many maesters here for them not to be involved."
"The maesters are the keepers of our knowledge," Aegon replied with a raised eyebrow.
"And also believe magic isn't real," she retorted. That was so infuriatingly stupid, she felt the need to strangle one with his own chain. In this world, how could one not believe in magic? There had been literal dragons flying around a century ago! Even worse, how would one even think to remove magic? It seemed to be one of the few cool things about the shitshow of a continent they were on, and the grey chucklefucks seemed hell bent on rooting it out. Meanwhile, the faith of the Seven were most likely determined to do the same. They were probably just jealous that their lame-ass gods didn't have any powers.
"That may be. But they still have knowledge that is useful," Aegon countered.
"Very well. In that case all I'll ask is, where are the sacrifices?" Where are the freshly cut still beating hearts? The rivers of blood? she wanted to add, but decided it might not help.
"Our house words are fire and blood. You cannot birth dragons without blood magic. Surely you know that," she said instead.
"Trust me, my granddaughter," he said with a patronizing tone, and if she had little interest in saving him before, she was even less keen on it now. "Wiser and more learned people have been consulted on the matter, and while blood magic is indeed needed, the magic is in our blood, the blood of Old Valyria."
Well, maybe if you sacrifice cousin Maegor, that could work, she thought, but she was pretty sure that wasn't what he meant. A pity; that would at least make Aerys happy and get him to stop having gaming induced hallucinations fueled by his paranoia, no matter how much he insisted they were perfectly logical.
"Well even so, the possibility of failure is there, is it not?" Aerys stepped in.
"Yes," Aegon grudgingly agreed. She wanted to stick her tongue at him at that. Way to go Aerys!
"Then why risk everything? If two dragon eggs survive, then we can try again. More than that, the dragon eggs are a symbol of legitimacy. We lost the dragons themselves. The Crown of Aegon I was lost in Dorne, Blackfyre was lost to the Golden Company, and Dark Sister with Bloodraven. The eggs, are the last true heirloom of House Targaryen," he finished.
"That is true," Aegon said with a nod.
"And finally, five eggs are more than enough," he said, and she quickly went from wanting to cheer for him to wanting to slap him. This shit again? Really? He wasn't wrong – though she would never admit that to his face, he'd be far too smug – but she was so sick of his obsession after having had to put up with it for so long.
"Is it really?" Aegon asked challengingly.
"Why yes," he said with a bold smile. "Me, Rhaella, you, and mother and father."
Rhaella withheld a groan as the king's expression darkened.
"And what of your Uncle Duncan?" he asked.
"That is a terrible idea. Why would you do that to the succession?"
Even as he blew up their prospects of pulling this plan off, she had to agree with him there. Honestly, the more she saw of Aegon, the more she became convinced he wasn't the sharpest knife in the Jon Snow.
"Are you implying your Uncle would try to claim the Throne for himself?"
"Not at all. Mayhaps not even his sons or daughters? With a dragon, power is at everyone's fingertips, is it not? A grandson, married into an ambitious family, hearing so long that his line comes from the firstborn son of Aegon V, that deserve to be above the spawn of Jaehaerys II. At the very least, Prince Duncan didn't marry his sister, right?" he said, emphasizing his words, before taking a pause.
Personally, Rhaella would be insulted if one of her descendants got taken out by one of Jenny's. She found the woman fun enough, she supposed, but she had no spine.
"And so, eventually this grandson would become convinced that maybe the Throne would indeed be his. And with a dragon at his beck and call, he'd have the power to enforce that!" he said, gesticulating dramatically. "Would he not, grandfather?"
"Mayhaps," Aegon said grudgingly. "And yet who can predict the future? There's no telling what may happen."
Good gods. He really did want a second Dance, didn't he? Not that Rhaella was necessarily against it as long as her side won, of course, and put on a great show doing it – a good civil war was always effective in putting a ruling family on edge – but still.
"No, there is not, but should you not take every precaution? Think of your legacy," he added. "Presuming the dragons do hatch, what do you want to be remembered as? The Good King, that made the smallfolk of the Seven Kingdoms actually be treated like human beings, and who restored House Targaryen to heights never before seen, or the second Viserys I, who in his mismanagement of his family set the stage for a second Dance?"
Once again, Rhaella was reminded of how Aerys was the best bullshitter to have ever bullshitted in Westeros. She was shocked the flies hadn't started sticking to him yet.
There was a long pause after that, no one daring to say anything.
"What exactly do you propose?" Aegon finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Just give us two dragon eggs. Call it a late wedding present? Or an investment into the security of House Targaryen. There's nothing to lose, and everything to be gained," he finished with a smile.
As Aegon nodded, Rhaella looked at Aerys, in large part pride and joy, but also squinting, wondering just how much snake oil he had sold back in their world. She was almost sad they hadn't gotten the chance to swindle people together. But oh well, this life was more interesting anyways.
- Location
- miami
So daddy's off to die, and in hindsight why would you consult people who keep no knowledge on magic and don't think it's real. Not even being aware they will actively try and sabotage any attempt to bring dragons back.
That said once these two hatch there dragons they better keep a eye out since if I recall the dragons died off from slow poisoning by the very same maester. Soon as they take the Throne there objective should be to remove them from power... as well as find out how to use magic. I think the dragons act like a magical core HP style for there bonded.
And if your being ambitious find a way to not age and rule as witch King of angmar err I mean the seven kingdoms.
Thanks for the chapter.
That said once these two hatch there dragons they better keep a eye out since if I recall the dragons died off from slow poisoning by the very same maester. Soon as they take the Throne there objective should be to remove them from power... as well as find out how to use magic. I think the dragons act like a magical core HP style for there bonded.
And if your being ambitious find a way to not age and rule as witch King of angmar err I mean the seven kingdoms.
Thanks for the chapter.
If the saying "don't wake the dragon(in me)" is more than an excuse for abuse, then maybe the magic could be from meditation and control over that in combination with runes and blood?
Although I guess the meditation bit was never done and partially why the Targeryns are loony? Not enough introspection.
Although I guess the meditation bit was never done and partially why the Targeryns are loony? Not enough introspection.
Aerys II
Aerys II
It was early in the morning when House Targaryen was summoned in the great hall of Summerhall. In the center of the hall, a great mass of kindling was placed together, surrounded by a ring of obsidian stones. And above, on a large metal gratier stood five eggs. Aerys felt the need to smile at the sight, reminded of the two eggs they had gotten which were currently hidden in an escape tunnel.
Beside him, Rhaella slouched, her brow furrowed. There were deep bags beneath her eyes, and her hair was still a riot. Combined with her obvious tiredness, and Aerys could conservatively bet she wanted to murder half the room, at least. In this case she might just have her wish, with a bit of luck.
At the sides of the obsidian ring, there stood a wide variety of dubious individuals: warlocks, red priests, some Valyrian priests Aerys suspected Aegon had gotten from Volantis (or maybe Mantarys) as well as a collection of alchemists and maesters, and even an odd Septon.
At the head of the hall, Aegon sat on a makeshift Throne. He had decided to go full on Targ today, dressed in black pants and a black doublet, red dragons stitched across the sleeves with a crimson tunic slipped beneath it. He had donned his crown, the simple golden circlet that Aegon the Dragonbane had worn before him. The irony was not lost on Aerys. Though overall, he did have to say he appreciated the look, even if it would be better with the crown of Aegon I. He could certainly take inspiration when he was King, he thought.
At that moment, Aegon rose and addressed the crowd. "Welcome my kin. It is a great honor to have you all here, for this historical moment; a hundred years from now, maesters will speak of today with awe as both the rebirth of House Targaryen as well as a new dawn for Westeros."
He wasn't wrong, Aerys thought. In many ways, his and Rhaella's reign would begin today, though he guessed they'd still have to wait for Jaehaerys to kick it. But with how sickly and frail the man was, that wasn't going to take very long.
Their family clapped politely as Aegon sat back down on his throne and conversed with one of the maesters. Aerys hid a grimace; if he'd done this canon, it was no wonder he'd burned. Though doing it in Summerhall probably was enough to begin with.
Looking around he saw Rhaella muttering something. He quickly lean in close so he could whisper to her.
"What is it?" he asked her.
"This is stupid," she replied, her face looking like she wanted to slowly murder something, or in other words, looking like normal. "How do these chucklefucks actually expect to hatch dragons. Where the fuck are the Aztec rivers of blood and still beating hearts?"
Sometimes, Aerys forgot that Rhaella, for all her intelligence, was also completely and utterly batshit. Though she always corrected him with statements like that. Once again, it fell on him to be the voice of reason between them.
"I can't say I completely disagree," he replied. "Though I am not sure they'd need to go that excessive."
At that Rhaella made a non committal sound. After that they stood in silence looking as Aegon's odd band shuffled around the soon to be fire. That was when,out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Maegor. His cousin stood at the edge of their group, the elephant in the room. No one wanted to be near Aerion Brightflame's son, especially when he'd been passed over at a Great Council. It still amazed him that he was still alive.
Well, if Aerys had anything to say about it, that wouldn't be a source of confusion any longer. Though his distance from the fire might pose a slight issue. Plastering a fake, thousand watt smile on his face, he decided to act.
"Maegor," he called, "it's good to see you!"
The threat to his rule met his eyes with a shy smile. "Hello, Aerys," he said, "it's been too long since I last saw you."
"That's partly my fault," he said, draping an arm across his shoulders, "my apologies, cousin."
Maegor laughed. "No apologies needed," he said, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Well, you see, one day I shall have to be King," he said. "And as part of my duties, I must know my family. Family is the basis of everything, and we Targaryens must stick together. When I'm King I don't want any Targaryen to be forgotten!" he finished. He saw the man's smile at that. Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, so you can be up close and stab me in the back.
"Thank you, cousin," the man said.
"Anyways, what do you think of all this?" he asked, gesturing with his free arm towards the wood, while with the other he directed Maegor so they could start walking that way. That's it, cousin dearest, closer and closer to the fire. I promise it won't bite. Just burn.
"Well, to tell you the truth, no one has really asked me that before, so I'm not sure how to reply…" he said, lost in thought. "I suppose it has great promise. Our House having dragons again could help Uncle Aegon carry out all those reforms he wanted to do.
Aerys grinned. "I completely agree! It's a shame, truly, how Grandfather must fight tooth and nail for his reforms. Luckily, he will not need to, after this." Because he will be dead, he did not add.
Maegor nodded. "I am glad we are in agreement."
They had gotten closer to the fire at this point, and Aerys suspected they wouldn't be able to get any further without raising suspicion. In that moment, he saw as Aegon's ragtag band of dragon hatchers began to move around.
He removed his arm from Maegor's shoulders, still feigning a smile. "Oh," he said, as if the idea had just occurred to him, "I just remembered: Rhaella mentioned you not too long ago."
Maegor's look was sickeningly hopeful. "She did?"
"Indeed; she has missed you dearly." This was a blatant lie; Rhaella couldn't stand Maegor. "A weak, spineless, mute chucklefuck," he believed she had called him once. "I'll tell you what," he continued, "you stay right here, and I'll go get her. She'll be happy to get the chance to speak with you."
"Nothing would make me happier," Maegor assured him, and that was actually quite… pathetic. Still smiling, Aerys made his way back to Rhaella, rather pleased with himself.
She watched him approach with a raised eyebrow, a smirk cutting into the edge of her mouth. "Aerys," she tisked, "how horrible of you, truly, to give the poor man so much hope. How much snake oil did you promise him?"
Aerys rolled his eyes. "Please," he said, "I gave him comfort in his last moments. Isn't that the best thing any of us could ask for, supposedly?"
She made a sound that could have been a laugh beneath her breath.
At that moment, the red priests and the warlocks began to chant while Aegon approached the kindling with a torch in hand. Aerys watched, tensing, as he lowered the torch. Flame licked at the wood. It flickered, and then it roared to life.
At that both Aerys and Rhaella took a step back, outright touching the tapestry behind which the escape tunnel was hidden. However, the flames started burning high into the room, heating the air all around them.
And yet nothing happened. At that moment, the chanting of the priests intensified, while Aegon produced an obsidian knife from somewhere, and cut his hand, blood dripping from the black blade. Looking at it, Aegon threw it in the fire above the eggs. All at once the fire roared, and climbed all the higher, the flames starting to turn purple and white.
"Interesting," he heard Rhaella mutter. He wasn't sure that now was exactly the time to be fascinated over ritualistic blood magic that was about to go horribly wrong. His eyes swept the room for Maegor; to his satisfaction, he was still close to the fire. Good.
For a long while still, nothing happened, before Aegon gave an order, and alchemists approached with what seemed to be jars of wildfire. Both him and Rhaella stiffened up at that. And for good reason.
Before the men had even reached the pyre, their jars exploded in a sea of green.
"RUN!!!" he told Rhaella immediately, and as one they both ducked behind the tapestry, starting to flee like their lives depended on it. From behind they could hear screaming. One voice sounded quite like Maegor's, and he allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction.
His lungs burned as they raced through the tunnel, legs carrying them as quickly as they possibly could. They retrieved their dragon eggs, placed at some point along the tunnel, and threw the satchels holding them over their shoulders. Rhaella wheezed as Aerys unlatched the door which would lead them out of Summerhall.
"I… am… so glad… I didn't wear a dress," she said, shoulders heaving. The comment came out of the blue, and as the door swung open, he laughed.
"Me too," he said, "now let's get moving."
They kept running, until they couldn't anymore and collapsed on the grass outside the castle, watching as Summerhall burned from a distance. In truth, he had to admit it looked kind of beautiful, he thought as he draped an arm around Rhaella's shoulder.
She leaned against his side in response. The two of them locked in that position, watching quietly as the castle was consumed by flames.
It was early in the morning when House Targaryen was summoned in the great hall of Summerhall. In the center of the hall, a great mass of kindling was placed together, surrounded by a ring of obsidian stones. And above, on a large metal gratier stood five eggs. Aerys felt the need to smile at the sight, reminded of the two eggs they had gotten which were currently hidden in an escape tunnel.
Beside him, Rhaella slouched, her brow furrowed. There were deep bags beneath her eyes, and her hair was still a riot. Combined with her obvious tiredness, and Aerys could conservatively bet she wanted to murder half the room, at least. In this case she might just have her wish, with a bit of luck.
At the sides of the obsidian ring, there stood a wide variety of dubious individuals: warlocks, red priests, some Valyrian priests Aerys suspected Aegon had gotten from Volantis (or maybe Mantarys) as well as a collection of alchemists and maesters, and even an odd Septon.
At the head of the hall, Aegon sat on a makeshift Throne. He had decided to go full on Targ today, dressed in black pants and a black doublet, red dragons stitched across the sleeves with a crimson tunic slipped beneath it. He had donned his crown, the simple golden circlet that Aegon the Dragonbane had worn before him. The irony was not lost on Aerys. Though overall, he did have to say he appreciated the look, even if it would be better with the crown of Aegon I. He could certainly take inspiration when he was King, he thought.
At that moment, Aegon rose and addressed the crowd. "Welcome my kin. It is a great honor to have you all here, for this historical moment; a hundred years from now, maesters will speak of today with awe as both the rebirth of House Targaryen as well as a new dawn for Westeros."
He wasn't wrong, Aerys thought. In many ways, his and Rhaella's reign would begin today, though he guessed they'd still have to wait for Jaehaerys to kick it. But with how sickly and frail the man was, that wasn't going to take very long.
Their family clapped politely as Aegon sat back down on his throne and conversed with one of the maesters. Aerys hid a grimace; if he'd done this canon, it was no wonder he'd burned. Though doing it in Summerhall probably was enough to begin with.
Looking around he saw Rhaella muttering something. He quickly lean in close so he could whisper to her.
"What is it?" he asked her.
"This is stupid," she replied, her face looking like she wanted to slowly murder something, or in other words, looking like normal. "How do these chucklefucks actually expect to hatch dragons. Where the fuck are the Aztec rivers of blood and still beating hearts?"
Sometimes, Aerys forgot that Rhaella, for all her intelligence, was also completely and utterly batshit. Though she always corrected him with statements like that. Once again, it fell on him to be the voice of reason between them.
"I can't say I completely disagree," he replied. "Though I am not sure they'd need to go that excessive."
At that Rhaella made a non committal sound. After that they stood in silence looking as Aegon's odd band shuffled around the soon to be fire. That was when,out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Maegor. His cousin stood at the edge of their group, the elephant in the room. No one wanted to be near Aerion Brightflame's son, especially when he'd been passed over at a Great Council. It still amazed him that he was still alive.
Well, if Aerys had anything to say about it, that wouldn't be a source of confusion any longer. Though his distance from the fire might pose a slight issue. Plastering a fake, thousand watt smile on his face, he decided to act.
"Maegor," he called, "it's good to see you!"
The threat to his rule met his eyes with a shy smile. "Hello, Aerys," he said, "it's been too long since I last saw you."
"That's partly my fault," he said, draping an arm across his shoulders, "my apologies, cousin."
Maegor laughed. "No apologies needed," he said, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Well, you see, one day I shall have to be King," he said. "And as part of my duties, I must know my family. Family is the basis of everything, and we Targaryens must stick together. When I'm King I don't want any Targaryen to be forgotten!" he finished. He saw the man's smile at that. Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, so you can be up close and stab me in the back.
"Thank you, cousin," the man said.
"Anyways, what do you think of all this?" he asked, gesturing with his free arm towards the wood, while with the other he directed Maegor so they could start walking that way. That's it, cousin dearest, closer and closer to the fire. I promise it won't bite. Just burn.
"Well, to tell you the truth, no one has really asked me that before, so I'm not sure how to reply…" he said, lost in thought. "I suppose it has great promise. Our House having dragons again could help Uncle Aegon carry out all those reforms he wanted to do.
Aerys grinned. "I completely agree! It's a shame, truly, how Grandfather must fight tooth and nail for his reforms. Luckily, he will not need to, after this." Because he will be dead, he did not add.
Maegor nodded. "I am glad we are in agreement."
They had gotten closer to the fire at this point, and Aerys suspected they wouldn't be able to get any further without raising suspicion. In that moment, he saw as Aegon's ragtag band of dragon hatchers began to move around.
He removed his arm from Maegor's shoulders, still feigning a smile. "Oh," he said, as if the idea had just occurred to him, "I just remembered: Rhaella mentioned you not too long ago."
Maegor's look was sickeningly hopeful. "She did?"
"Indeed; she has missed you dearly." This was a blatant lie; Rhaella couldn't stand Maegor. "A weak, spineless, mute chucklefuck," he believed she had called him once. "I'll tell you what," he continued, "you stay right here, and I'll go get her. She'll be happy to get the chance to speak with you."
"Nothing would make me happier," Maegor assured him, and that was actually quite… pathetic. Still smiling, Aerys made his way back to Rhaella, rather pleased with himself.
She watched him approach with a raised eyebrow, a smirk cutting into the edge of her mouth. "Aerys," she tisked, "how horrible of you, truly, to give the poor man so much hope. How much snake oil did you promise him?"
Aerys rolled his eyes. "Please," he said, "I gave him comfort in his last moments. Isn't that the best thing any of us could ask for, supposedly?"
She made a sound that could have been a laugh beneath her breath.
At that moment, the red priests and the warlocks began to chant while Aegon approached the kindling with a torch in hand. Aerys watched, tensing, as he lowered the torch. Flame licked at the wood. It flickered, and then it roared to life.
At that both Aerys and Rhaella took a step back, outright touching the tapestry behind which the escape tunnel was hidden. However, the flames started burning high into the room, heating the air all around them.
And yet nothing happened. At that moment, the chanting of the priests intensified, while Aegon produced an obsidian knife from somewhere, and cut his hand, blood dripping from the black blade. Looking at it, Aegon threw it in the fire above the eggs. All at once the fire roared, and climbed all the higher, the flames starting to turn purple and white.
"Interesting," he heard Rhaella mutter. He wasn't sure that now was exactly the time to be fascinated over ritualistic blood magic that was about to go horribly wrong. His eyes swept the room for Maegor; to his satisfaction, he was still close to the fire. Good.
For a long while still, nothing happened, before Aegon gave an order, and alchemists approached with what seemed to be jars of wildfire. Both him and Rhaella stiffened up at that. And for good reason.
Before the men had even reached the pyre, their jars exploded in a sea of green.
"RUN!!!" he told Rhaella immediately, and as one they both ducked behind the tapestry, starting to flee like their lives depended on it. From behind they could hear screaming. One voice sounded quite like Maegor's, and he allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction.
His lungs burned as they raced through the tunnel, legs carrying them as quickly as they possibly could. They retrieved their dragon eggs, placed at some point along the tunnel, and threw the satchels holding them over their shoulders. Rhaella wheezed as Aerys unlatched the door which would lead them out of Summerhall.
"I… am… so glad… I didn't wear a dress," she said, shoulders heaving. The comment came out of the blue, and as the door swung open, he laughed.
"Me too," he said, "now let's get moving."
They kept running, until they couldn't anymore and collapsed on the grass outside the castle, watching as Summerhall burned from a distance. In truth, he had to admit it looked kind of beautiful, he thought as he draped an arm around Rhaella's shoulder.
She leaned against his side in response. The two of them locked in that position, watching quietly as the castle was consumed by flames.
Rhaella IV
Dawn_Star
Dawn1000
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"Well, that was tiring," Rhaella said, collapsing into her chair. Beside her, Aerys ran a hand across his face. She wound a lock of hair around her finger and grimaced as she gulped down Arbor Gold. Thinking of it, taste wise she preferred Dornish Red, however being even better than champagne, Arbor Gold was a true drink for royalty. And gods did she need a drink right now. She glared up at the ceiling as she was forced to recall the exhausting last few hours.
She and Aerys had just gotten back from being summoned by Jaehaerys, whereupon the weak, sickly, snivelling man had wept, forced them to comfort him – honestly, what on earth made him think they would ever want to do that? – and tearfully reminded them of their duty to the realm now that they were directly in line to the throne. The entire ordeal was almost enough to make Rhaella wish she had died with Duncan, Maegor and the others at Summerhall.
Not only did she have to deal with the man's annoying emotions, but now she had the "duty to the realm." The man had also asked them again for kids, she thought with a shiver.
Duty this, duty that, soon the man would tell them that she couldn't purposefully ask servants for things that weren't in the kitchen just to see them struggle. The anxiety in their eyes never failed to amuse her. Some of her bad mood faded a little at the memories. Fun times.
Thinking more on it, there were some good things now. Soon enough, with the slightest bit of luck (or if luck wasn't on her side, the slightest bit of cyanide) Jaehaerys would make himself unavailable from a slight case of dropping dead and leaving them the fuck alone.
Then they would be King and Queen, at last!!! She could do whatever the hell she wanted, without her "father" breathing down her neck and demanding that his two children fucked each other. That was the worst thing, but there were so many others. "Vassals should be respected this, can't dable in dark magic that, having a harem of ladies is wrong they say." Well, she said they were idiots. Who didn't want a harem? Issei had had the right of it, in her opinion. Highshool DxD was a shit show, but even a broken clock was right twice a day.
Yes, the thought was very appealing to her. She had to admit that the idea of having Loreza Martell whenever she wanted was an intoxicating one. Hmm, maybe that would be a bit much. She wasn't sure, but there was the smallest chance that she just needed something to busy her mind with to vent after the encounter with their "father".
Aerys stood up from his chair with a grunt. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. Even now, frustrated and tired as he was, he refused to just slump like a fucking normal person. Honestly, he was so strange sometimes. She had in the years started to like him, but there were things about him that just weren't fun. On the flipside, she had had the time of her life at Summerhall, so she couldn't judge him too harshly.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
He smoothed down his doublet and said, "I'm going to sleep." He waved a hand vaguely. "We're never talking about what just happened ever again."
He stared at her until she grunted in acknowledgment. She agreed full-heartedly. THREE half-minute hugs!!! Three!!!! The sheer audacity of Jaehaerys!
"Good night, Aerys," she said, further curling into her chair. His lips tugged upwards into a thin-lipped smile.
"Good night, Rhaella."
Rhaella disliked the training yards. They were loud, sweaty and messy, full of a bunch of unattractive men spilling bodily fluids onto the ground. Their only semi-redeeming quality was the ladies who swooned after these men, blushing and tittering in a way that gave Rhaella war flashbacks to the One Direction craze of the 2010s. She covered her nose with a handkerchief as she scowled, eyes sweeping around the area for Aerys as she prowled in search of him.
She found him sparring against her least favorite person in the entire world: Tywin Lannister. They were fighting with live steel, the metal clanging as they ducked, parried, and stabbed at each other. She was somewhat impressed by Aerys' skill; he was surprisingly good, from what she knew about combat. But it was evident that Tywin was better. He pressed and pressed until Aerys' defenses failed him and he went collapsing into the dirt.
Rhaella felt something bristle in her when Tywin smiled smugly and when to help Aerys up, arrogance in his every move. Slowly, she began to clap, and every head in the training yards turned her way. Good.
"Well fought, Lord Tywin," she said. The smile she sent him was sickeningly sweet and laced with poison. "It is good to see that even with all of the gold Lord Tytos has wasted down the drain, he still provided his sons with good dueling instructors."
Tywin stiffened and Aerys shot her a dark, warning look. She ignored it and walked over to him.
"Your Grace," Tywin said with incredibly gritted teeth. Well that was probably yet another Reyne that was going to die in an especially horrible way. The look on his face was worth it though.
Rhaella's smile grew even wider, all teeth at this point. She placed a hand on Aerys' arm. "I have matters to discuss with my husband," she said, "if you will excuse us, my lord." Her tone made it clear that it was not a request.
"Of course, Your Grace, I shall leave Prince Aerys to his… summons," he said with the smallest bow he could possibly do. I am so going to sleep with your wife, she thought to herself. She had never met Joanna Lannister in her entire life, but at this point, it was a matter of principle. Also, if Cersei's looks were anything to go by, there was a lot to admire there.
Aerys' voice in her ear distracted her from her plots of revenge. "Rhaella," he asked, "what is it?"
"Important matters of the realm," she said haughtily. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "The Blackfyres," she said softly. Immediately Aerys sprang like a bow.
"That is indeed important," he murmured.
Quickly he followed her until she found herself in an abandoned passageway, hidden behind one of the most ancient tapestries in the Red Keep. She rather liked exploring them, even if it was ghastly dirty.
"So, what about the Blackfyres?" he asked.
She kissed her teeth. "Nothing new, but we need to talk about them, and more," she said. "A lot is going to happen quite soon, so… what now?"
"Well now the Throne is almost ours," Aerys said, slightly dreamily.
Her eye twitched.
"Gee thanks. I wouldn't have guessed that on my own. Do you have any other thrilling discoveries? Have the maesters uncovered that water is actually wet?"
"Very funny," he said in a deadpan. "Okay, what do you think we should do now, because clearly you have something in mind." How the fuck had he guessed that?
"Well," she said, "for starters, the war of the Ninepenny Kings is coming up. How should we deal with that?" she asked.
"Well, I need to participate," he replied, his voice sure without a hint of doubt in it.
"Why?"
"I need to show my face there. I need to make connections and friends, including, even if you hate it, Tywin." Her eye twitched at that. She might publicly sleep with Joanna.
"And I need to be there to ensure that the Blackfyres and the Golden Company are fully cleansed," he said. There was logic to all of it. If she could, she wasn't sure if she would have gone or not. War seemed exciting, although rather messy for her tastes. But more importantly, she saw her opening.
"Speaking of ensuring they are removed, I think I need to start working on a spy network." Spy networks were fun, all that intrigue, all that drama, everything done cleanly and out of sight.
"Oh?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well yes, we clearly can't allow others to run that thing for us," she said, speaking to the arguments she by now knew Aerys would be most receptive to.
"And what specific ideas do you have in mind? How will you run a spy network?"
"With spies, you dingus," she said frustrated.
She was quite offended by his doubtful look. She'd read plenty of John Le Carre, it would be fine.
She and Aerys had just gotten back from being summoned by Jaehaerys, whereupon the weak, sickly, snivelling man had wept, forced them to comfort him – honestly, what on earth made him think they would ever want to do that? – and tearfully reminded them of their duty to the realm now that they were directly in line to the throne. The entire ordeal was almost enough to make Rhaella wish she had died with Duncan, Maegor and the others at Summerhall.
Not only did she have to deal with the man's annoying emotions, but now she had the "duty to the realm." The man had also asked them again for kids, she thought with a shiver.
Duty this, duty that, soon the man would tell them that she couldn't purposefully ask servants for things that weren't in the kitchen just to see them struggle. The anxiety in their eyes never failed to amuse her. Some of her bad mood faded a little at the memories. Fun times.
Thinking more on it, there were some good things now. Soon enough, with the slightest bit of luck (or if luck wasn't on her side, the slightest bit of cyanide) Jaehaerys would make himself unavailable from a slight case of dropping dead and leaving them the fuck alone.
Then they would be King and Queen, at last!!! She could do whatever the hell she wanted, without her "father" breathing down her neck and demanding that his two children fucked each other. That was the worst thing, but there were so many others. "Vassals should be respected this, can't dable in dark magic that, having a harem of ladies is wrong they say." Well, she said they were idiots. Who didn't want a harem? Issei had had the right of it, in her opinion. Highshool DxD was a shit show, but even a broken clock was right twice a day.
Yes, the thought was very appealing to her. She had to admit that the idea of having Loreza Martell whenever she wanted was an intoxicating one. Hmm, maybe that would be a bit much. She wasn't sure, but there was the smallest chance that she just needed something to busy her mind with to vent after the encounter with their "father".
Aerys stood up from his chair with a grunt. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. Even now, frustrated and tired as he was, he refused to just slump like a fucking normal person. Honestly, he was so strange sometimes. She had in the years started to like him, but there were things about him that just weren't fun. On the flipside, she had had the time of her life at Summerhall, so she couldn't judge him too harshly.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
He smoothed down his doublet and said, "I'm going to sleep." He waved a hand vaguely. "We're never talking about what just happened ever again."
He stared at her until she grunted in acknowledgment. She agreed full-heartedly. THREE half-minute hugs!!! Three!!!! The sheer audacity of Jaehaerys!
"Good night, Aerys," she said, further curling into her chair. His lips tugged upwards into a thin-lipped smile.
"Good night, Rhaella."
Rhaella disliked the training yards. They were loud, sweaty and messy, full of a bunch of unattractive men spilling bodily fluids onto the ground. Their only semi-redeeming quality was the ladies who swooned after these men, blushing and tittering in a way that gave Rhaella war flashbacks to the One Direction craze of the 2010s. She covered her nose with a handkerchief as she scowled, eyes sweeping around the area for Aerys as she prowled in search of him.
She found him sparring against her least favorite person in the entire world: Tywin Lannister. They were fighting with live steel, the metal clanging as they ducked, parried, and stabbed at each other. She was somewhat impressed by Aerys' skill; he was surprisingly good, from what she knew about combat. But it was evident that Tywin was better. He pressed and pressed until Aerys' defenses failed him and he went collapsing into the dirt.
Rhaella felt something bristle in her when Tywin smiled smugly and when to help Aerys up, arrogance in his every move. Slowly, she began to clap, and every head in the training yards turned her way. Good.
"Well fought, Lord Tywin," she said. The smile she sent him was sickeningly sweet and laced with poison. "It is good to see that even with all of the gold Lord Tytos has wasted down the drain, he still provided his sons with good dueling instructors."
Tywin stiffened and Aerys shot her a dark, warning look. She ignored it and walked over to him.
"Your Grace," Tywin said with incredibly gritted teeth. Well that was probably yet another Reyne that was going to die in an especially horrible way. The look on his face was worth it though.
Rhaella's smile grew even wider, all teeth at this point. She placed a hand on Aerys' arm. "I have matters to discuss with my husband," she said, "if you will excuse us, my lord." Her tone made it clear that it was not a request.
"Of course, Your Grace, I shall leave Prince Aerys to his… summons," he said with the smallest bow he could possibly do. I am so going to sleep with your wife, she thought to herself. She had never met Joanna Lannister in her entire life, but at this point, it was a matter of principle. Also, if Cersei's looks were anything to go by, there was a lot to admire there.
Aerys' voice in her ear distracted her from her plots of revenge. "Rhaella," he asked, "what is it?"
"Important matters of the realm," she said haughtily. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "The Blackfyres," she said softly. Immediately Aerys sprang like a bow.
"That is indeed important," he murmured.
Quickly he followed her until she found herself in an abandoned passageway, hidden behind one of the most ancient tapestries in the Red Keep. She rather liked exploring them, even if it was ghastly dirty.
"So, what about the Blackfyres?" he asked.
She kissed her teeth. "Nothing new, but we need to talk about them, and more," she said. "A lot is going to happen quite soon, so… what now?"
"Well now the Throne is almost ours," Aerys said, slightly dreamily.
Her eye twitched.
"Gee thanks. I wouldn't have guessed that on my own. Do you have any other thrilling discoveries? Have the maesters uncovered that water is actually wet?"
"Very funny," he said in a deadpan. "Okay, what do you think we should do now, because clearly you have something in mind." How the fuck had he guessed that?
"Well," she said, "for starters, the war of the Ninepenny Kings is coming up. How should we deal with that?" she asked.
"Well, I need to participate," he replied, his voice sure without a hint of doubt in it.
"Why?"
"I need to show my face there. I need to make connections and friends, including, even if you hate it, Tywin." Her eye twitched at that. She might publicly sleep with Joanna.
"And I need to be there to ensure that the Blackfyres and the Golden Company are fully cleansed," he said. There was logic to all of it. If she could, she wasn't sure if she would have gone or not. War seemed exciting, although rather messy for her tastes. But more importantly, she saw her opening.
"Speaking of ensuring they are removed, I think I need to start working on a spy network." Spy networks were fun, all that intrigue, all that drama, everything done cleanly and out of sight.
"Oh?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well yes, we clearly can't allow others to run that thing for us," she said, speaking to the arguments she by now knew Aerys would be most receptive to.
"And what specific ideas do you have in mind? How will you run a spy network?"
"With spies, you dingus," she said frustrated.
She was quite offended by his doubtful look. She'd read plenty of John Le Carre, it would be fine.
- Location
- Earth
This is amazing. I cannot wait for Not!Rhaegar to be the sane one to both his mad parents
uh…. was this posted in the write story?
Dawn_Star
Dawn1000
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It absolutely was not 💀. Thanks for pointing that out
Aerys III
Dawn_Star
Dawn1000
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Aerys stood amidst Jaehaerys' war council, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. He stared up at the ceiling, trying in vain to tune out the monotonous drooling of the councilors around him. Planning a war should not have been this boring but if he had to hear Ormund Baratheon talk about the logistical line to the Stepstone one more time, he was going to lose it harder than Rhaella on one of her bad days.
Where was the excitement? The daring strategy? Why, if his father wasn't going to let him go, did he have to be here to witness the worst parts of warfare?
It's all right, just focus on the plan, he told himself. Deep breaths, don't do a Rhaella, don't meticulously contemplate stabbing Ormund's eye out, that's her MO. His fingers twitched at his sides and he rubbed at his temples.
"That will be enough for today, my lords," Jaehaerys said at last, much to his relief. "We will reconvene on the morrow to discuss further strategy."
It had been the same for the past two weeks. Ever since they had decided they needed to move in on the Blackfyres, something which he had advocated for years now, and which was finally getting him the strategic acclaim he deserved, it had been non-stop war councils to decide how their armies were going to fight Maelys. Especially as, surprising no one but her, Rhaella had failed to create a spy network to take him out. She had been seething about it for weeks, and the servants of the Red Keep had learned quickly to avoid her, if they somehow hadn't already.
So now, the War of the Ninepenny Kings was coming, and he didn't plan on missing it out. He had a reputation to build. Sadly, Jaehaerys, the old fool, had refused to let him leave for the Stepstones. The Targaryen dynasty, he claimed, was too vulnerable to let him risk his life in battle. As if Aerys would ever allow himself to be killed in such a manner. How insulting.
That discussion had happened before the first War Council, and ever since, Aerys had been biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike. And it was now, now that the minimum plausible time to wait had passed.
Rhaella would be very displeased if he had to do that and there would be many a whipped (or worse) servants, but it was a price he was willing to pay. But that was just the contingency plan. As the rest of Jaehaerys' war council filed out of the room, Aerys cleared his throat.
"Father," he said, "I wish to speak with you."
Jaehaerys' eyes snapped to him, warmth and a tinge of disbelief spreading across his face. And for good reason. When Aerys addressed him, it was almost always 'your grace'. To call him 'father' was something he did very sparingly, and always selectively. The man was desperate for family recognition, that was clear to see, and it was something he planned to use. The Gods knew he wasn't going to get it from Rhaella.
"What is it, son? How are you faring, I know the preparations for this campaign have been a burden on us all, so how are you?"
"I'm fine, father, it's not exactly about that. Matter of fact, I think so far preparing for this campaign has gone better than I expected. Not stressful at all," he said.
"I'm happy to hear that son," the man said with a smile. "What was it then?"
"Well, I'd like to take a more active role in the campaign," he said. Jaehaerys's face immediately closed off at that.
"So this is about wanting to go and fight again," he said, his voice suddenly much less fond. It was laced with an undercurrent of steel that made Aerys bristle.
Shit, he just thought to himself.
"Yes, and I know we did talk about it, and I did respect your wishes," he said. "However, in the meantime, several things have come to the forefront of my attention," he continued smoothly.
"Such as?" his father asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well for one, I have finally been vindicated for saying we should go after the Blackfyres for years," he said. At that Jaehaerys gave a nod. "And the court has picked up on that. What better way to follow this than with triumph on the battlefield," he said.
"How do you know it is going to be a triumph? War is never easy or certain. Your Uncle Daeron fought against simple peasants and still died." At the mention of his late brother, Jaehaerys' frame took on a heaviness. A kind of raw, old grief flashed across his face, quickly smothered.
"Unlike Uncle Daeron I do not plan to fight in the front lines, or lead a charge. The place for a commander is behind the front lines, not fighting but directing his soldiers to victory. I do not mean to take any useless risks," he said.
"Such as needlessly going into a war?" Jaehaerys asked him. God damn it. He hated to admit it, but that was a point won by the old man.
"That is different," Aerys replied, smiling winningly through gritted teeth. "We cannot allow some other lords to completely control what happens with our armies. And the image boost our house would win by being on the ground as we root out the last Blackfyre would secure our legitimacy for three more generations," he said. He wasn't even bullshitting, that was what he himself had realized was the reason he so wanted to go to war.
Something in Jaehaerys' eyes flickered, and Aerys could tell he was wavering. He waited with bated breath for his response. Only for the king to shake his head yet again, his resolve back in place. "You make good arguments," Jaehaerys replied, "but the risk is too high. None of that will matter if you die and our succession gets butchered beyond repair. Our house will die with you," he said.
"If that happens, you and our mother still have years to make more children," he said. It was the last thing he had before the Backup Plan. He really didn't get why they hadn't had more, probably some prophecy nonsense.
"We are not as young as we used to be," Jaehaerys rebutted, "I will not take that chance. And what of Rhaella? Would you leave her a widow?"
Sigh… It was the perfect segue and it was clear he needed to do it.
"In the very unlikely event that happens… She will not be alone." He took a deep breath. No turning back now.
"What?" Jaehaerys' eyes snapped to his, demanding an answer.
Aerys braced himself. Here it was.
"We just found out the news. She is with child," he said.
At that Jaehaerys' face was stuck for a second, before morphing into a look of pure, unfiltered joy. "My son," he breathed, "this is most wonderful news. What a bright moment for such dark times."
"Yes, indeed, so you see father, even should the worst come to pass, our House will be fine. Come on, let us enjoy this bright moment and truly make it the start of a rebirth for our family. And plus, I would never take any unnecessary risks while there, and risk not seeing my firstborn," he said.
At that Jaehaerys looked hard at him, before he finally relented.
"Very well, I see how determined you are at this, and with this joyous news… So be it," he said.
Aerys grinned. And then did the unimaginable. He hugged him. Very briefly, only a few seconds at most, but Jaehaerys practically melted into the hug. Then he was pulling away.
"Thank you, Father," he said, "you will not regret this. Now, I need to be on my way."
"Go to Rhaella," Jaehaerys said, suggesting what he was already planning. "Be with your wife for your last few weeks without war." Who else would he be with? Rhaella might have been inane but she was frankly the most bearable company in this God forsaken world.
Aerys nodded and left, making a beeline for Rhaella's chambers. He knew she wouldn't take what he told Jaehaerys well. At all. Upon entering her rooms, he saw a woman seated beside her, no doubt one of the women she collected like they were Pokemon.
It was for her spy network, she claimed, but suspiciously, they were all very beautiful, and all very willing to sleep with her, and listen to her tyrades about literature, a topic which she was quickly revolutionizing in Westeros. Aerys shuddered at the thought.
"Aerys," she said, raising an eyebrow, "what are you doing here?"
He shifted, relishing these last few moments without a headache.
"We need to talk," he told her, his head pointed towards Rhaella's latest harem girl.
Rhaella's brow furrowed, but she nodded. "Fine," she sighed. She didn't even bother glancing at the woman, who still watched her adoringly. "You're dismissed," she said, "run along."
The woman hesitated. "My princess?"
Rhaella's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Are you daft?" she snapped, "I said you're dismissed. We'll continue our talks another day, and if you're attentive enough, maybe we'll do more," she said more seductively.
Aerys wrinkled his nose. How tasteless. The woman flinched, and, with a confused combination of hurt and hope, fled the room.
"In fairness, she wasn't the best company, the concept of gothic horror doesn't seem to stick with her," she said. "Anyways, what's this about?"
"I finally got Jaehaerys to agree to send me to the Stepstones," he said.
"Well good on you," she said, her voice disturbingly close to encouraging. "Now, how much snake oil did you have to sell him?" she asked with a smile.
"Not that much." At that Rhaella raised a mistrusting brow. "I pointed out the political and military reasons why it would be a good idea. And… I also told him the fact that you are pregnant."
A beat of silence. And then, Rhaella said in a deceptively soft, and frankly very out-of-character tone, "You did what?"
Where was the excitement? The daring strategy? Why, if his father wasn't going to let him go, did he have to be here to witness the worst parts of warfare?
It's all right, just focus on the plan, he told himself. Deep breaths, don't do a Rhaella, don't meticulously contemplate stabbing Ormund's eye out, that's her MO. His fingers twitched at his sides and he rubbed at his temples.
"That will be enough for today, my lords," Jaehaerys said at last, much to his relief. "We will reconvene on the morrow to discuss further strategy."
It had been the same for the past two weeks. Ever since they had decided they needed to move in on the Blackfyres, something which he had advocated for years now, and which was finally getting him the strategic acclaim he deserved, it had been non-stop war councils to decide how their armies were going to fight Maelys. Especially as, surprising no one but her, Rhaella had failed to create a spy network to take him out. She had been seething about it for weeks, and the servants of the Red Keep had learned quickly to avoid her, if they somehow hadn't already.
So now, the War of the Ninepenny Kings was coming, and he didn't plan on missing it out. He had a reputation to build. Sadly, Jaehaerys, the old fool, had refused to let him leave for the Stepstones. The Targaryen dynasty, he claimed, was too vulnerable to let him risk his life in battle. As if Aerys would ever allow himself to be killed in such a manner. How insulting.
That discussion had happened before the first War Council, and ever since, Aerys had been biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike. And it was now, now that the minimum plausible time to wait had passed.
Rhaella would be very displeased if he had to do that and there would be many a whipped (or worse) servants, but it was a price he was willing to pay. But that was just the contingency plan. As the rest of Jaehaerys' war council filed out of the room, Aerys cleared his throat.
"Father," he said, "I wish to speak with you."
Jaehaerys' eyes snapped to him, warmth and a tinge of disbelief spreading across his face. And for good reason. When Aerys addressed him, it was almost always 'your grace'. To call him 'father' was something he did very sparingly, and always selectively. The man was desperate for family recognition, that was clear to see, and it was something he planned to use. The Gods knew he wasn't going to get it from Rhaella.
"What is it, son? How are you faring, I know the preparations for this campaign have been a burden on us all, so how are you?"
"I'm fine, father, it's not exactly about that. Matter of fact, I think so far preparing for this campaign has gone better than I expected. Not stressful at all," he said.
"I'm happy to hear that son," the man said with a smile. "What was it then?"
"Well, I'd like to take a more active role in the campaign," he said. Jaehaerys's face immediately closed off at that.
"So this is about wanting to go and fight again," he said, his voice suddenly much less fond. It was laced with an undercurrent of steel that made Aerys bristle.
Shit, he just thought to himself.
"Yes, and I know we did talk about it, and I did respect your wishes," he said. "However, in the meantime, several things have come to the forefront of my attention," he continued smoothly.
"Such as?" his father asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well for one, I have finally been vindicated for saying we should go after the Blackfyres for years," he said. At that Jaehaerys gave a nod. "And the court has picked up on that. What better way to follow this than with triumph on the battlefield," he said.
"How do you know it is going to be a triumph? War is never easy or certain. Your Uncle Daeron fought against simple peasants and still died." At the mention of his late brother, Jaehaerys' frame took on a heaviness. A kind of raw, old grief flashed across his face, quickly smothered.
"Unlike Uncle Daeron I do not plan to fight in the front lines, or lead a charge. The place for a commander is behind the front lines, not fighting but directing his soldiers to victory. I do not mean to take any useless risks," he said.
"Such as needlessly going into a war?" Jaehaerys asked him. God damn it. He hated to admit it, but that was a point won by the old man.
"That is different," Aerys replied, smiling winningly through gritted teeth. "We cannot allow some other lords to completely control what happens with our armies. And the image boost our house would win by being on the ground as we root out the last Blackfyre would secure our legitimacy for three more generations," he said. He wasn't even bullshitting, that was what he himself had realized was the reason he so wanted to go to war.
Something in Jaehaerys' eyes flickered, and Aerys could tell he was wavering. He waited with bated breath for his response. Only for the king to shake his head yet again, his resolve back in place. "You make good arguments," Jaehaerys replied, "but the risk is too high. None of that will matter if you die and our succession gets butchered beyond repair. Our house will die with you," he said.
"If that happens, you and our mother still have years to make more children," he said. It was the last thing he had before the Backup Plan. He really didn't get why they hadn't had more, probably some prophecy nonsense.
"We are not as young as we used to be," Jaehaerys rebutted, "I will not take that chance. And what of Rhaella? Would you leave her a widow?"
Sigh… It was the perfect segue and it was clear he needed to do it.
"In the very unlikely event that happens… She will not be alone." He took a deep breath. No turning back now.
"What?" Jaehaerys' eyes snapped to his, demanding an answer.
Aerys braced himself. Here it was.
"We just found out the news. She is with child," he said.
At that Jaehaerys' face was stuck for a second, before morphing into a look of pure, unfiltered joy. "My son," he breathed, "this is most wonderful news. What a bright moment for such dark times."
"Yes, indeed, so you see father, even should the worst come to pass, our House will be fine. Come on, let us enjoy this bright moment and truly make it the start of a rebirth for our family. And plus, I would never take any unnecessary risks while there, and risk not seeing my firstborn," he said.
At that Jaehaerys looked hard at him, before he finally relented.
"Very well, I see how determined you are at this, and with this joyous news… So be it," he said.
Aerys grinned. And then did the unimaginable. He hugged him. Very briefly, only a few seconds at most, but Jaehaerys practically melted into the hug. Then he was pulling away.
"Thank you, Father," he said, "you will not regret this. Now, I need to be on my way."
"Go to Rhaella," Jaehaerys said, suggesting what he was already planning. "Be with your wife for your last few weeks without war." Who else would he be with? Rhaella might have been inane but she was frankly the most bearable company in this God forsaken world.
Aerys nodded and left, making a beeline for Rhaella's chambers. He knew she wouldn't take what he told Jaehaerys well. At all. Upon entering her rooms, he saw a woman seated beside her, no doubt one of the women she collected like they were Pokemon.
It was for her spy network, she claimed, but suspiciously, they were all very beautiful, and all very willing to sleep with her, and listen to her tyrades about literature, a topic which she was quickly revolutionizing in Westeros. Aerys shuddered at the thought.
"Aerys," she said, raising an eyebrow, "what are you doing here?"
He shifted, relishing these last few moments without a headache.
"We need to talk," he told her, his head pointed towards Rhaella's latest harem girl.
Rhaella's brow furrowed, but she nodded. "Fine," she sighed. She didn't even bother glancing at the woman, who still watched her adoringly. "You're dismissed," she said, "run along."
The woman hesitated. "My princess?"
Rhaella's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Are you daft?" she snapped, "I said you're dismissed. We'll continue our talks another day, and if you're attentive enough, maybe we'll do more," she said more seductively.
Aerys wrinkled his nose. How tasteless. The woman flinched, and, with a confused combination of hurt and hope, fled the room.
"In fairness, she wasn't the best company, the concept of gothic horror doesn't seem to stick with her," she said. "Anyways, what's this about?"
"I finally got Jaehaerys to agree to send me to the Stepstones," he said.
"Well good on you," she said, her voice disturbingly close to encouraging. "Now, how much snake oil did you have to sell him?" she asked with a smile.
"Not that much." At that Rhaella raised a mistrusting brow. "I pointed out the political and military reasons why it would be a good idea. And… I also told him the fact that you are pregnant."
A beat of silence. And then, Rhaella said in a deceptively soft, and frankly very out-of-character tone, "You did what?"