Chapter Text
There were whispers about Daemon Targaryen in Runestone. The whispers were always there, ever since Aerys learned to speak he heard of his infamous father. He did not remember ever meeting him, but he felt like he knew the man just by going off of rumors. They called him the Rogue Prince, Lord Flea Bottom and the Prince of the City. He was known for his harsh, swift but always just punishments upon evildoers, as well as his winning smile and silver mane.
They always told Aerys he was the spitting image of his father. He, too, had the silver hair and the indigo eyes of the Targaryens. His great aunts and uncles loved to joke about how he looked nothing like a Royce, even though his mother always sneered at them when they did that. Aerys did not mind. Was it not something to be proud of? To be the son of a Prince and the nephew of a King? Who were the Royces compared to the grandsons of the Old King?
That was not to say he disliked his mother's family. He had grown up with them. He bore her name and would wield her sword Lamentation when he grew old enough. He would become Lord Royce after she was gone. He wished that would never happen, though. He could never say it to her, but he adored his mother. He may not have met his father, but his mother was always with him every waking moment. She gave him lessons in every subject you could think of. Numbers, strategy, riding, archery, reading, even swordplay. Lady Rhea was a jack of all trades, as the servants liked to call her, and Aerys would not have it any other way.
But lately, his mother had soured, her expression always grim and her mind always wandering. The whispers of his father seemed to grow louder, too. Everyday he would hear hushed tones asking if it was today. Was it tomorrow? Next month? Of course, Aerys did not know what it was, but he could hazard a guess.
And it did feel good when his guess was proven to be correct. One unsuspecting morning, Runestone woke up to the shrill shriek of a red beast hovering above it and landing square on the courtyard, scattering dust everywhere. He had been out sparring with some of the squires when the beast landed, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity. Aerys could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He knew that dragon from the rumors. Caraxes the Blood Wyrm, mount of Prince Daemon.
He had always known he would meet his father one day. He had just expected more ceremony. Appearing out of the blue certainly seemed to be Daemon's style though, going by everything he heard. When the dragon gently lowered itself onto the ground, a tall man slid from its back with grace and Aerys found himself studying him intently.
Indeed, the man in front of him could have been Aerys himself from the future. The same silver hair, the same indigo eyes. The same cheekbones and lean physique. The only major differences he could spot between his own image and that of the man's in front of him was the stubble that adorned his face and the numerous scars he bore. The man must have noticed him too, for he narrowed his eyes and the faintest smile threatened to spring forth from his lips. Perhaps had Aerys known he would come, he would have found it within himself to give him a smile as well.
Suddenly, quietly, he felt a firm graps on his shoulder and looked up to see the painfully pleasant expression on his mother's face. Aerys knew that expression. She had used that on people that geniunely angered her. Her Lady's face. He had seen her pull that one on poor Lord Tollett. The man could not bear to look at her face for days after that.
The man ahead did not seem to care, however, as he strode confidently at the two of them. Only then did Aerys notice the curious bundle the size of a pumpkin he carried in the cradle of his arms. He came up before them and looked straight at him, that vague smile now blossoming into a pure and obvious one. He knelt in front of him and laid his free arm upon his free shoulder. His mother's grasp tightened.
"It is good to meet you again, Aerys." he spoke, his voice sweeter than butter. "It has been some time."
Aerys gulped and nodded. "I-I don't think we ever met before, my prince." he managed to croak out, earning a laugh from the man.
The man, no, his father regarded him and he laughed softly. "I seem to recall holding you in my arms when you were born. I wager that counts as a proper meeting, does it not?" He gave his shoulder a soft squeeze as he got up, facing his wife, the smile on his face gone instantly. "Rhea."
His mother nodded at him, face as stoic as the statues in the crypts of Runestone. "Daemon. We have prepared rooms for you and allocated some space for your... mount." She spoke rigidly.
For his part, Daemon took it in stride. "Ah, very good. It has been a long road indeed and I will need rest, but not before I deliver what I came here for." He said, breaking eye contact with his mother and looking down at Aerys. He carefully handed him the bundle in his arms and gestured to unwrap it.
Aerys found himself gulping once more as he took off the layers upon the bundle. It surprised him that the more he peeled, the hotter the bundle grew. When the removed the last layer, he found himself looking directly at a large egg as white as milk, glistening brilliantly in the sun.
His father smiled once more at him. "That, is your inheritance. Though were it up to your mother, you would never recieve it. Do not ever forget that while your name might not be Targaryen, you have the blood of the dragon coursing through you."
Aerys, feeling more like a boy now than ever, could only nod as he looked upon the white dragon egg, wondering when it would hatch.
----
The following few months, the whispers of Daemon Targaryen completely disappeared from Runestone. Afterall, you could not gossip about a man who was currently present with you. Aerys spent a lot of time with his father, learning dragonlore and High Valyrian from him. He did not see his mother as often as he used to, but she would join the two of them occasionally and sometimes would even smile.
Still, Aerys could not help but notice the tense atmosphere whenever his parents were in the same room together. They attempted to be cordial with each other when in public and especially within his vicinity, but when they were alone Aerys knew for a fact that their throats would go sore from shouting the next day.
He often found himself passing by his mother's solar hoping to hear their shouting matches, and more often than not he was lucky. His father would always complain about being sent away and never seeing his son grow while his mother would retort by saying she was more like to die with him in the castle than without. He knew she must have been exaggerating. Daemon was not a bad man, despite his reputation.
They watched his egg together and cared for it together. His father had brought him books in High Valyrian with pictures, but Aerys could see that he was disappointed. Not in Aerys, but in the fact that he had never been taught the language of his forebears. His father had even taken him out on a ride on Caraxes once, to "put that High Valyrian to good use". It had been an unforgettable experience, and only made him wish more and more for the milk white egg to break its shell and give the world another dragon. If his father was to be believed, it would be soon.
----
It had begun like any other day. Aerys practiced in the yard with the other squires early in the morning. His mother had come by, giving him some advice and laughing at his antics for a bit before mounting her horse and riding away on her regular hunts. Aerys practiced for a bit more before deciding to go and find his father. Prince Daemon's sword training was much more complex and rigorous than the ones his master-at-arms put him through, but Aerys always felt like he came out of them stronger like Prince Daemon. There weren't many places his father could be at this hour so he did his usual routine of checking one by one. First, he went to the library. Despite reputation and appearances, Daemon was an avid reader. When the library was empty, he went to the kitchens. The man loved a good meal. Not there either. He decided to check out Caraxes' section of an abandoned part of the castle. The dragon was not there.
If Caraxes was not in Runestone, then the dragon had either gone out on a hunt or his father had taken the beast on a ride. Considering the absence of Daemon, Aerys was inclined to believe that the two of them must have been flying around the Vale. He shrugged and decided to make his way back to the castles when for whatever reason he felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand. He shivered. Suddenly he had the urge to leave Runestone. He felt sick just being there. He quickly made his way to the stables and mounted his horse, affectionately named Snowmane for its white coat.
He rode around the hills surrounding Runestone for hours absentmindedly, occasionally stopping and watching the scenery and maybe drawing some of them in his sketchbook. He was pretty far from the castle now, must be around his mother's favorite hunting grounds. Elk and rabbits were found plenty here, though at the moment there were no animals around. Even Snowmane seemed kind of rigid. He could not tell why until he felt the woosh of the wind above him and heard the screech of a large beast. He smiled and nudged Snowmane forward, riding towards where Caraxes landed, even though the beast was more than hesitant to do so.
He found himself surrounded by trees as Caraxes stood inside a clearing, craning its long neck forward. He quickly dismounted and made to approach the scene when he spotted his mother's brown horse there, with her atop it opposite of Daemon who was still mounted upon his dragon. Aerys came to a halt. They were outside of Runestone now. Whatever words they would say to each other, there would be no audience. Finally Aerys could get to see the truth of the relationship between his parents. He bid Snowmane quietly disappear into the forest as the animal knew the way back to Runestone and settled behind some trees, observing the interaction.
His mother calmly held the reins as she gazed up at her husband. "The time has come then?" she asked him.
Daemon nodded briskly. "You know it has. The egg's hatching. Once it does, there's no more use for you." he spoke, his voice eerily cold.
Aerys spotted his mother tense up, eyes darting around quickly. "What will you tell Aerys? That his mother just up and abandoned him? He will see through you like I do, you bastard." she spat with venom.
His father, for his part, seemed completely uninterested. "Hunting accidents happen all the time. You stand in front of his inheritance and bar him from keeping his true name. I cannot allow that. He will be grief struck for sure, but his father will be there for him when he needs a parent. I will promise you that."
Lady Rhea Royce said nothing for a moment before suddenly pointing her bow at Daemon atop his dragon. Aerys felt rooted to the spot. What in the Seven Hells was happening?!
Caraxes reared back as Prince Daemon shouted a single word in High Valyrian. Aerys remembered him teaching him that word. He knew it was only to be used against enemies. He knew how Caraxes would respond.
"Dracarys!"
The dragon's neck craned above as he spew forth a brilliant red streak of flame upon the sky. Not at Rhea, but above her, dangerously close. Aerys understood the intent immediately. Spook her horse and...
His mother fell off her steed followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of something cracking. Only then did Aerys felt strength return to his legs as he rushed forward from his hiding spot towards his mother. "Mother!" he yelled and yelled, hoping against all odds that she was fine.
When he reached her, he did not need a maester to know she was gone. He knelt in front of her lifeless body as blood oozed from the back of her head. He quietly, gently, closed her eyes and stood up, drawing the practice sword at his belt and raising it at Caraxes and the man sitting atop the beast.
Daemon's eyes were wide as he looked at him with shock. "S-son... I..." he began.
"Murderer." was all Aerys said at him, his teeth clenched. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to split his head from his worthless neck and drag it all across the continent for all to see.
The Prince looked at his son with nary a word and a gaping mouth for what felt like an eternity, before he quietly commanded his steed to rise and fly away. Aerys knew he would never see him in Runestone ever again.
----
The funeral procession of Lady Rhea was solemn. None dared to speak a word more than the simple condolences to Aerys. The details of her passing were still vague within her castle. Some said it was a hunting accident. Some said Daemon murdered her. Some said it was bandits.
Aerys did not elaborate upon any theory. He needed to think. That bastard Daemon needed to be brought to justice, but he could not do it so hastily. He needed to gather evidence and build a case against him. But that was the boy within him speaking, the same boy that listened to his stories of Old Valyria with glee and believed himself to be Targaryen in all but name. There was another voice though. It had appeared that day, but had quietly, gently grown its influence within his mind. This voice was telling him that Daemon Targaryen would never be brought to justice by conventional means. If he could make the entire kingdom watch what he had done as he did, the one trying him for murder would still be the king, his brother. No, no, no. A trial would never work. He needed to ruin the bastard. He needed to turn him into an unrecognizable, pathetic shell of his former self. He needed to destroy his image and only then allow himself the satisfaction of killing him.
Aerys excused himself to his rooms after the funeral, asking to not be disturbed. He sat in the darkness of the room, quietly mustering the egg in front of him. He felt it in the back of his head. The time was now. He did not know how he knew, but he just did. And soon enough, small cracks began to form upon the shell. Then larger ones. Aerys breathed deeply. In and out. He never took his eyes off the egg as the shell cracked and cracked until an opening was made. A small creature poked its head and looked around curiously. Then it extracted its whole body from the shell, standing upon the basin that housed the egg before. The creature locked eyes with him and slowly approached him, cooing all the while.
Aerys opened his palms as the small dragon settled on it. It was large enough to cover both of his hands as it looked up at him. It was pure white, with red eyes that felt like they were burning. Some would call it cute, Aerys thought. He gently started patting it with his right hand after settling it on his left. First the wings, then the chest. He scratched under its chin and the creature seemed to love that, so he scratched it some more. He started to rub its neck gently, petting its scales. Yes, some would indeed call it cute.
He grabbed the creature firmly by the neck and raised his arm violently in the air, then brought it down upon the cold stone floor just as violently, the creature's blood splattering across his room as he repeated the motion countless times, bashing and bashing and bashing it. When he was done, all that remained within his hand looked more like a bat. A battered, gore covered bat. The rodent of the skies. Fitting, Aerys supposed.
Yes, some would call it cute. But not now. A dragon can only be vile.
----
Lord Aerys Royce absentmindedly read the missive in his hand again. A royal invitation to serve in the small council by King Viserys himself. Aerys supposed it made sense. The old cunt did not have many Targaryen relatives left to him after his daughter went upon her self imposed exile into Dragonstone and his vile brother went on a forced exile into Essos. He had heard of Laena Velaryon and her twin daughters. Some servant had dared to ask him whether or not they would host his "sisters" soon. He had her drawn and quartered for even insinuating he could be family with those vile dragonspawn.
He moved to throw the missive to the hearth when he thought better of it. It was a golden opportunity. He had been planning the downfall of the Targaryens and their dragons for years. He was in his twenties now, by all accounts a competent Lord who bore royal blood. With a position in the Small Council, he would be able to discreetly begin enacting his plans. He brought a hand to his black beard, thinking carefully. He had been dying his hair and beard for years. He could not afford to look like he was one of them afterall. But if he needed to not only survive but succeed in King's Landing, he needed to make the best of his "family" connections. He decided right then and there as he folded the missive and gave the order for departure to his household.
The road was long and the destination was not at all worth it. King's Landing could only be described as a pigsty. Aerys could spot the stench from aboard his ship. As soon as they docked in the lower levels of the Red Keep, he was not surprised to see a royal escort was already present to welcome him. A knight clad in white introduced himself as Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard and Aerys had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Lickspittles of the Targaryens, willing to give their own lives for their worthless hides. Pathetic.
He allowed himself to be escorted through the Red Keep up to the Throne Room, where the King was hearing petitions. Aerys was content to wait his turn, but apparently never one to shy away from nepotism, the King immediately gestured for him to come forward. He seemed to be a jovial man with a short mustache adorning his upper lip. Fat, too. What are they feeding on here, I wonder?
He kneeled before the Throne as he heard the courtiers hush among themselves. He did not need to concentrate to hear murmurs of "Daemon" and "looks like his father". That irked him more than it should, considering he had been preparing himself for the inevitable comparison for a while now.
"Rise, nephew." came the voice of the King. Aerys raised his head and stood straight as an arrow, bringing his hands behind his back as he gazed upon the king atop his throne. "Today, we welcome Lord Aerys Royce of Runestone to our court. Son of my beloved brother Daemon Targaryen and the former Lady of Runestone, Lady Rhea Royce. I do not believe you have ever been to court, have you, Lord Royce?"
"No, Your Grace." Aerys answered stiffly, ignoring the sting of hearing his mother's name along with that bastard's. "But I have heard a lot of it. It truly is as pleasant as I have been led to believe."
The King laughed shortly. "Well, you should try living here. I'm sure your perspective will change after a few months." he held his belly as he laughed. "I take it that your presence here means you have accepted my offer?"
Aerys nodded. "Indeed, Your Grace. In your missive you made it clear that you were offering me a position in the Small Council. I believe the only spot open now is Master of Whisperers."
"It is. We have heard of your rule here in King's Landing and I am sure I speak for everyone when I say we are all impressed. They say nothing goes on in the Vale without your knowledge. Do you believe you can utilize this skillset for the entire Realm, nephew?" Viserys asked softly.
"I can. Nothing will happen within or outside of Westeros without you hearing of it first, Your Grace. This is my solemn vow to you." As if he would ever keep faith with a dragonspawn.
The King seemed pleased as he accepted his vow of fealty and dismissed him to return to affairs of court. Aerys expected he would be invited to sup with him later tonight, so in the meantime he decided to explore the castle. For one, the place looked like a grotesque mass protruding from the Blackwater Bay. He was thoroughly unimpressed by it as he walked through the corridors, hands behind his back with Lamentation dangling from his hip. He visited many places within the castle, the kitchens, the gardens, the cellars, the library, the rookery, the private room assigned to him, and the currently empty Small Council chamber. Yes, he could easily have his own network spring up here as he did with the Vale before.
He had intended to go to the Tower of the Hand and meet this illusive Otto Hightower before he was stopped by Criston Cole again, who informed him that the Queen wanted to meet with him. Holding the urge to sigh, Aerys followed the man to the Queen's chambers.
Alicent Hightower was slightly older than him, but by no means was she old. Even Aerys had to admit that she was beautiful, not that he cared about such trifles. Marriages were more trouble than they were worth. He had observed one enough to know how it ended, and he did not wish that fate upon anyone else. Alicent Hightower seemed to bear hers with grace, however.
"Lord Royce, we have been expecting you." she spoke clearly as she curtseyed. He noticed the wary, almost imperceptible twitch in her eye as he sighed. Great, another person who judged him by virtue of knowing his father. "It has been some time since a relative of the family has graced the Red Keep. We are delighted to welcome you."
Aerys bowed his head. "And I am delighted to be here, Your Grace. I was gladdened when I recieved the King's missive, so that I could meet my relatives from my father's side of the family." and kill the damned dragons while I'm at it.
Alicent nodded. "I am happy to hear that. My father, the Lord Hand, was the person who suggested your appointment. I am sure you know of his rivalry with your father, so it came as a surprise to His Grace... But I believe you are, how to put it, estranged, are you not?"
Aerys drew in a sharp breath. "One could say that. His untimely departure following the death of my mother has certainly scarred our relationship." More than you will ever know.
Still, it was interesting that Otto Hightower had requested for him personally. The Hightowers must be looking for allies against Rhaenyra's faction, and who better to ally with than the only other person with Targaryen blood within the entire continent that did not reside in the Red Keep or Dragonstone. Unfortunately for Ser Otto, Aerys had no intention of meddling with the affairs of the current royal succession crisis. In fact, he delighted in it. By all accounts Viserys was eating himself to an early grave and when he was gone, the dam would break. Civil war between those that supported his fat daughter and those who supported his inept son. It made no difference to Aerys. If he was lucky, the Targaryens would never recover after their little family squabble and many dragons would die. But he also was not cruel. He knew that if there were more dragons, many people would be licked by their flames and die. Like his mother did. Man was powerless to stop the beasts in the eyes of all, and just their reputation would be enough to terrify even the mightiest knight. He could not have that. He needed to cull their numbers, make them an inconvenience to use. Both sides would need to use their dragons as a last resort and hopefully kill each other then, thus freeing Westeros from this blight.
The Queen appeared solemn. "That was ill done of him. You have my condolences once more for your mother. I am certain your cousins would like to express theirs as well."
Ah, Aerys spotted another angle of her manipulation. She hoped to endear him to these cousins of his so that he would support them when the time comes. He supposed it would pass as clever had the Lord of Runestone been anyone but him. Strategically it made sense. That old twat Jeyne Arryn was guaranteed to support Rhaenyra due to their familial bonds as well as to prove that women can inherit above men when the law dictates it. The Hightowers wanted the might of Runestone at their back to either cower Jeyne into submission or render the Vale ineffective by having them fight among themselves. He was mildly impressed, but mostly disappointed. They clearly hadn't done enough research about him to know about his intense hatred of the Targaryens. It was no secret within Runestone. Hells, he dyed his hair and beard black just to not appear like a filthy dragonspawn. If the Hightowers thought they could win his loyalty by throwing a bunch of children at him, they were deathly mistaken.
Still, he smiled at the Queen innocently. "Ah, I would love to meet all of them. We recieve word of their antics even as far as Runestone."
That was partially true. He had endeavoured to keep tabs on all royal claimants and their relatives. Rhaenyra and her sons he knew enough about. An incompetent woman with three bastards. She would run the Realm to the ground. On the opposite side, Aegon was apparently completely uninterested in duty and he was extremely attached to his dragon to boot. Not a worthy candidate. Helaena was rumored to be a dragon dreamer, so she was automatically worthless in his eyes. Damn the Targaryens and their magic. They should all have died with the Doom. There was Aemond, the dragonless second son. Now him, him he could work with. The boy apparently thought not having a dragon made him less of a person when it was absolutely the opposite. Dragons only deterioated one's mind and pushed their ego to the top. He was wise when he bashed his own hatchling to the floor all those years ago. He could not imagine himself now, flying atop the skies. Just the image of him flying upon Caraxes was enough to make him feel disgusted with himself.
He spoke with the Queen some more, mostly about the Small Council, before taking his leave. As expected, the King's summons came not long after. With him, he spoke of his plans to establish network chains and the approximate cost of said networks while also clarifying what information they could expect to recieve in the near future. Of course, his mind was in the Dragonpit. His best agents would need to be placed there. He could feed the dragons rotten and poisoned meat and strike them down silently while they were sick. He could also steal dragon eggs from the Pit and make a huge fuss of it to hopefully shut the place down to prevent any interventions and prevent the other Targaryens from mounting their dragons. With the place shut down, killing the large dragons would be easier than killing a hatchling. He would know all about that.
King Viserys sipped his wine, clearly getting inebriated a bit, as he pointed at him. "I do recall Daemon bringing you a dragon egg some years ago. What a beautiful egg that was. He picked it from Dragonstone himself, you know? Said his son deserved the best. Whatever happened to that egg? We never heard of you hatching it or riding a dragon."
Aerys shrugged. "It did hatch, but the hatchling was sickly. It did not live an hour afterward."
The King seemed sad as he glanced down. "A pity. The world could always use more dragons. Still, you would have felt the bond between you and the dragon. I had a similar one with Balerion as well. Both of us lost our dragons so early... Had you named it? Before it died?"
Aerys carefully set his wine down as he looked at the King directly, keeping himself from breaking into a grin and instead forcing his face into a grieving one. "I did not have time to pick a proper name, but... I was mourning my mother as well. The dragon was pale, milky white. I had hoped to name it, but it never lived. It was a Corpse almost immediately after birth."
Corpse. What a fitting name for such a disgusting creature.