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🕑 Added 2025-02-03 19:34:19 +0000 UTCUpdate for malfoy tier.. open for Potter tier on : 13-2-25.
Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 27: The Dichotomy of Love and Hate
90 AC
Kingslanding
Cregan Stark
It had been one week since he arrived in the capital, and the betrothal had been announced, with a tourney set to celebrate the occasion in two moons. The sheer number of jealous murmurs he had heard through Winter made him laugh—so many people envious of his royal marriage. Many still couldn’t comprehend why the king had agreed to such a match. Whispers spread that the Starks had hoodwinked the Targaryens: first, the Crown Prince falling for a northern bastard; then, no real punishment for violating the Queen’s orders and taking The Gift back; and now, a royal marriage. The rumors of the cure he had provided for Aegon only grew stronger with each passing day.
Only disbelief and wariness toward heathen ways prevented people from approaching him for a miracle cure. Some believed it worked only on babes. Whatever they believed it was getting harder not to find the enjoyment in their bluster.
During daytime for the last week, he had spent time courting Viserra, and surprisingly, he liked her—just as she seemed to like him. Winter could sense that Viserra disliked most of her elders and had been engaging in something nefarious. Only the contempt and mockery he felt through winter had kept him from taking offense when Viserra insulted the northern fleet and its trading success in front of Rhaenys, comparing it unfavorably to the Sea Snake’s ventures. Why Viserra went on to list the various family lines through which Corlys is related to the royal family and especially Rhaenys was a mystery to him.
Aethan Reed had also reported seeing Corlys Velaryon spending much time with Rhaenys, discussing great voyages and the supposed greatness and lineage of House Targaryen and Velaryon.
“Aethan, why do you look so surprised by Rhaenys and Corlys?” Cregan has asked as he could see no reason for him to care about the Royal Families marriages.
“Lord Stark, you know about the Targaryens’ power of dragon dreams and our own version of green dreams?” Aethan asked.
“Aye, Daemon has taught me about it—how the future is shown through visions that are difficult to understand,” Cregan said.
“Well, Daemon, as always, is blessed in this as well. He has seen many things. I don’t know how much he has shared with me or even you, but he once said Corlys would marry Rhaenys. However, the Rhaenys in his vision was older than our princess. I thought it was unlikely, and even Daemon was confused about how it would come to pass. But now, it is happening—just as he foresaw,” Aethan said, a strange gleam in his green eyes.
Cregan processed this, his eyes widening as a thought struck him. My father… my grandfather? How did that happen if he could dream so much?
“Ah. That is because he has never foreseen the Starks' path, and whatever he could see would change drastically because of his presence. Even so, he foresaw Bennard’s betrayal long ago. That was the true reason he was never as close to his children as he was to you—notwithstanding that his children followed their father’s footsteps in hating Daemon.”
Cregan frowned before a memory hit him and he started laughing. “You are correct. He knew. Daemon knew about the betrayal long ago— when our uncle banished him to Bear Island. Uncle accused Daemon of harboring betrayal, and I still remember the nameless expression Daemon had then… and the laughter that followed.”
“Typical Daemon,” Aethan said with a shrug.
By nightfall, Aethan excused himself to his room, leaving Cregan alone with his thoughts.
Lying on his bed, Cregan wondered what else Daemon had foreseen and why he had not shared any of it with him. Perhaps that was why, when he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of Winterfell—of his younger days when Daemon used to tell him epic stories.
Cregan!
He dreamed happily, as he remembers the story and how exciting it was for him, but the story was interrupted—by Daemon. Older, as he had last seen him before his journey to King’s Landing and not the younger version that should be telling the story.
Awareness and fear gripped Cregan as he realized Daemon was dreamwalking, peering into his mind.
“Daemon… How is this possible? Should I be worried about any others and why now?”
“Oh? It is easy, my dear brother,” Daemon replied. “You are in my paternal home, and I am in my maternal home. Isn’t it interesting that both have protections against this type of magic, yet I can breach them because of my blood? Even then, this shouldn’t be possible for anyone else. The Starks and the Targaryens have stronger defenses in their mind, but our bond allows me to connect to you. The inherent protections would take care of anyone else.”
Cregan calmed as the fear of outside control vanished.
“Why are you contacting me like this?” he asked. “I thought we agreed not to communicate at all—someone might see me talking to an animal or thin air.”
Daemon scrutinized Cregan before speaking.
“What the fuck are you doing, cousin? Why didn’t you follow the King’s word and marry in King’s Landing? You have no business dragging me into the middle of the Targaryen family affairs.”
Cregan was surprised—he had thought Daemon clever enough to guess his reasoning. But like all things Targaryen, his brother is highly irrational and he had lost patience to think through.
“No business? So you don’t want to attend my wedding? Why shouldn’t I have the elder of my family officiate my marriage?” Cregan snapped.
“Oh, is that so? Then we could have held a northern ceremony in the godswood at Winterfell after the southern function. That’s not the true reason. Answer me now,” Daemon demanded coldly. The dream world trembled with rising emotions.
“You’re too clever, Daemon, but not clever enough when it comes to the Targaryens. Have you ever thought about why you act so irrationally when making decisions regarding your paternal family? I want you to reconnect with them. You still have a father, a grandfather, an uncle—you still have a chance to be part of their lives, while I have no one. The old gods denied me a family, but you? You could have made them call you back to the South themselves, made them welcome you into the family. Why are you running from them?” Cregan shouted.
“Oh? You think I’m a coward who flees confrontation?” Daemon’s voice was sharp. “I didn’t want to meet them without knowing I could escape—even from dragons—if need be. I refuse to feign love or respect when I have none. But, my dear brother, the time for running is over. I was planning to return south anyway. I have plans to enact, dragons to tame… and perhaps even princesses to seduce.”
“What?!” Cregan asked, shocked. He could see that Daemon has ignored his first question, but the answer was pure arrogance that he has never seen anywhere else. Even the king is not this arrogant or indifferent. “Daemon, you’re banished from the South. The King proclaimed it to me just this week! Why are you taking such a risk?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Cregan,” Daemon said with a dismissive wave. “I won’t be going as myself. I’ll dye my hair black or shave it off entirely. It wasn’t vanity that made me write that song about my half-black, half-silver hair—it was so the bards would make it famous. I’ll travel as a bard, let the people hear my divine voice.”
Cregan cringed, remembering the first time Daemon had ever sung—it had been horrendous, so much so that even Fenrir had attacked him. But, as always, by spending time with dozens of bards, Daemon had somehow turned his talent around.
“Daemon… Are you sure you want to go as a bard? Your talent will make you stand out.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I know how to blend in—I’ve watched people do it all my life. Anyway, it’s too late to change your wedding now, and I’ll be attending, regardless of who else does. It’s happening far earlier than I expected, but at least it’ll be entertaining to needle my grandmother if she actually comes,” Daemon said with a grin.
Cregan looked thoughtful before asking, “So what’s her issue with you, Daemon? Is she that entrenched in the Faith of the Seven?”
“Not at all, brother. The truth is, at the end of the day, there’s a little madness in every single one of us. The only thing that restrains it is the fear of consequences, the leashes we place upon ourselves. Alysanne Targaryen is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and she has no leash to hide her madness. Hers is the madness of partiality—of loving too fiercely and believing her opinions to be infallible. When she loves someone, it is absolute. And when she does not? It is pure indifference and neglect.
She has been like this since her youth. She loved her brother Jaehaerys more than anyone else and supported him in usurping her nieces' claim. She adored Saera so much that she still dreams of bringing her back, but she disliked Viserra enough that she would have betrothed her to Theomore Manderly had he not given his full support to House Stark and my ventures. She cherished Daella, yet her daughter is an Arryn, and the queen has never visited her—not even once.
Likewise, she decided to hate me—whether for my bastardry or for my mother, whom she sees as a seductress who led her ‘innocent’ crown prince astray. This is my best guess as to why she behaves the way she does.”
Cregan was bewildered. “That’s… some deep thinking. And now that you mention it, it makes sense in hindsight. So that was why you asked me to bring old Theomore himself to King’s Landing? That explains the relief Viserra felt when she first saw me—and Theomore—when we were introduced at court. Winter is always a blessing to have with me; as it lets me sense others’ feelings.”
“Aye, you are correct, Cregan. And you should worship me for my benevolence in helping you with Viserra,” Daemon said with a smug grin.
Cregan scoffed. “That’s irrelevant, brother. She would have fallen for me anyway—I’m the handsome one between us.”
Daemon merely smirked in mockery. “Anyway, now that you recognize my wisdom and my plans within plans, you should promise not to meddle any further with the Targaryens for my so-called benefit.”
Cregan nodded with a sheepish grin.
“The night is still young,” Daemon continued. “Tell me all about my paternal side—especially Princess Gael and my half-sister. Tell me what you’ve sensed through Winter’s eyes. I’ve seen their interactions, whether through warging or greenseeing, but having Winter’s perspective will be useful for my future plans.”
Cregan sighed, knowing this would take a while.
“So…” he began.
===================================================
3 Moons Later
Daemon Snow
Winterfell
‘Fuck it. Having a little brother sucks’.
I was sitting on the sidelines of the training yard, observing the men train while lost in my thoughts.
I watched the men-at-arms and could tell they had plateaued in their physical development. Even they seemed to sense something was wrong—many had stopped training altogether, focusing only on honing their sword skills under Brandon’s careful eye. My own mood was mercurial, burdened by the fact that I now had to deal with my paternal family, far ahead of my plans.
Cregan had arrived at Winterfell two weeks ago, and I knew the Targaryens would soon fly north for the marriage, while Viserra’s belongings were being sent ahead. Cregan had already informed me that Aemon, Rhaenys, and the Queen would be attending the wedding—Aemon to give Viserra away in the King’s stead, and Rhaenys, apparently close to Viserra, wanting to fly Meleys as part of her training.
But what puzzled me was why my sister was coming here at all when, according to Cregan, she despised me. From what he had gathered through Viserra, it stemmed from her mother’s influence and the arguments Aemon had with her about me.
That had left me speechless then.
My father hadn’t seen me since I was two weeks old, yet this woman still found a reason to hate me. Or maybe it was plain jealousy—jealousy over my mother? Or maybe it was the fact that I am a male and Aemon had stopped having children with only Rhaenys. I had seen many meetings when The King snipped at Aemon for having no more children. I was sure that the king had extended the same care and love to Jocelyn too. Or maybe it was something else, afterall there is no need for a good reason for hating someone. Shit happens.
I frowned as I noticed two men laughing while sparring, their half-hearted efforts grating on my nerves. A sudden urge to punch something surged within me. But even I understood that when progress became stagnant, it was hard to train with the same intensity and the training will become boring. The laugh and fun mood was the result of that boredom.
Then, an idea struck me.
For years, I had trained my body by wrestling with Fenrir. Fighting a direwolf who could kill with a single swipe of his paw had been painful—at first. Until I healed. Adapted. Became stronger. Even Fenrir had grown more lethal from those bouts, sharpening his instincts alongside my own.
And so, the answer to their boredom became clear: Wrestling.
What better way to improve than by forcing two men to overpower each other, with the winner earning a prize? And I’d get to hit something in the process.
I would set some rules—no breaking bones, no eye-gouging. Anything else could be healed.
Rising from the bench, I stretched my arms, feeling the weight of my decision settle over me. The moment I stood, the men around me tensed, their eyes flickering with unease as they sensed my shifting mood.
“Proud warriors of Winterfell, I’ve just had a brilliant idea to strengthen our bodies and escape this tedious boredom.” I grinned.
Immediately, I saw the worry etch itself across every face in the yard.
I just grinned.
====================================
Omniscient POV.
Queen Alysanne had to swallow her laughter as the young Tully boy attempted to woo her granddaughter, Princess Rhaenys. They were attending a feast at Riverrun on their journey north, a necessary stop before reaching Winterfell.
Rhaenys had only ever flown Meleys over King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark, yet she had been adamant about accompanying them to Winterfell for her beloved aunt’s wedding. Alysanne had been tense ever since her daughter, Viserra, had grown suddenly closer to Rhaenys years ago. She had watched them converse again and again, searching for any hidden scheme Viserra might be plotting. Yet, to her surprise, she found nothing. For all intents and purposes, Viserra truly seemed to love her niece as she should.
Alysanne had noticed Rhaenys becoming more serious in her lessons and thoughts over the past few years, but her motivation had increased drastically since befriending Viserra. The girl had even sought out the King for lessons on the history of House Targaryen and Velaryon, eager to understand their connections. Alysanne chuckled, recalling her husband’s expression when Rhaenys had questioned him about the Velaryons. Ever since the Sea Snake had been appointed Master of Ships, Jaehaerys’s dislike of Corlys had become evident—and she could not blame her King. Corlys’s casual arrogance was greater than even the Lord Paramounts’.
But Alysanne also understood that Rhaenys had been determined to accompany them for some hidden purpose. The tension in her posture, the weight of her thoughts—it all led to that conclusion.
Her musings were abruptly cut off when a Frey boy attempted to court Viserra. The entire hall fell silent at her daughter’s sharp retort for the heathen comment.
“The next person to insult my future husband’s family,” Viserra declared coldly, “will lose their tongue.”
Aemon, who had been casually eating throughout the exchange, merely picked up the heir’s knife and set it down on the table with deliberate ease.
Alysanne sighed. What was it with her children and their fascination with taking tongues in defense of the Starks?
She raised a hand, calling for peace and dismissed the tension.
Maybe next time I will allow, the fools who dared insult her daughter’s choice of marriage to receive whatever punishment his children devised.
=================
That night, Alysanne ordered Rhaenys to sleep in her chamber for comfort. Her beloved daughter Gael had been left behind in King’s Landing—Alysanne knew such a journey would be too taxing for her delicate nature. She had also given explicit orders to the Kingsguard and Septas to keep Daemon away from Gael, ensuring that he would never corrupt her youngest daughter.
In the dim candlelight, Alysanne spoke in a low voice.
“Rhaenys.”
Her granddaughter, who had not been sleeping but rather lost in thought, responded immediately.
“Grandmother?”
“Tell me, child, what is on your mind? Why did you insist on accompanying us? I know you have been close to Viserra for years, but I suspect this is neither about your friendship with her nor about training your dragon-riding skills.”
Rhaenys sighed, rubbing her temples in exhaustion.
“Well, you are correct, Grandmother,” she admitted. “I want to see my father’s mistakes with my own eyes before I decide on my future king consort.”
Alysanne almost yelled in shock before forcing herself to lower her voice.
“Your future king consort is Viserys. That decision was already made by the four of us—me, the King, your father, and your uncle Baelon. Just as your uncle Baelon will serve as Hand of the King, Viserys will be your king consort. Daemon or Aegon will be your Hand.”
Rhaneys who knew aboyt the unofficial decision already made at their birth didnlt get angry or sad.
“Grandmother, I love viserys as he is my cousin, but I will be honest with you, I am not attracted to him. He will make a fine Hand of the Queen, but not my King Consort. I would have, off-course followed my elders wishes if not for the dangers to my claim to the throne.
“Daemon Snow,” Alysanne interrupted, her voice sharp. “That is why you are reconsidering, isn’t it? He is a bastard, Rhaenys. Even the North could not stand against the other six great houses alone for a mere bastard, even with Stark Blood when there are many legitimate heirs. You have nothing to fear, my dear. But tell me, who else could you possibly be considering over a Targaryen? Viserys will have a dragon—that is the greatest security you could ever ask for.”
Rhaenys nearly snorted but held back. Mocking the Queen, even privately, was not wise.
She knew The Queen never believed any of the songs or tales of magic, but she knew his father, uncle were not fools and even when a learned man like Ser Otto said he had verified some tales, it should not be taken lightly and yet The Queen couldn’t see past her own opinions.
Grandmother, I asked Viserys to come with me to claim Dreamfyre,” she said. “But he was uninterested. He wants to wait. I suspect he hopes to claim Silverwing after your time, as its gentle nature is more suited to him.” She shook her head. “Even having a dragon does not make one a true dragonrider. If he has no will to wield his power, what use is it? I know him better than anyone, and I know this—if he ever had to command a dragon to burn people, it would break him. That is why I need to see my brother for myself. I need to decide whether I require a husband with ambition, with the will to protect my claim and enforce my orders.”
Alysanne clenched her jaw, her anger toward her bastard grandson flaring. Even his shadow haunted her favored grandchildren, influencing their choices in ways she could not prevent.
“Rhaenys,” Alysanne said after a moment, “your father promised you the freedom to choose your husband, and my husband’s iron will has softened in his old age. He will not force you to marry Viserys against Aemon’s wishes. The fate of Saera shattered his resolve—he will abide by his heir’s decision in this. Even a dragon less child disobeyed him for their desires and he knows what would his own heir with a dragon will do, if he orders something that is not welcome. But I ask you, child—you say Viserys has no will to fight for you, but what of his father and his younger brothers?”
For a moment, Rhaenys looked surprised, as if she had not considered that.
“I see you had not thought of it,” Alysanne noted, her tone measured. “and why would you? Even being more skillful in almost anything and having the biggest and most battle tested dragon, Baleon’s loyalty to his brother was never in question. Everyone had taken it for granted while you forgot our own history in just previous generation. The younger brother with bigger dragon declared himself king over his rightful nephew and look what happened.
She let the words hang in the air.
“Baelon’s loyalty should be rewarded,” she continued. “Even if he serves you only because Aemon wishes it so.”
Rhaenys sighed, deep in thought.
“I will consider this, Grandmother. You have given me much to think about.”
Silence enveloped the room.
=============
Queen Alysanne Targaryen observed the kneeling northern men as they welcomed the royal family. After an appropriate time, her son commanded them to rise. Her gaze shifted to the Stark who would soon marry her daughter.
Lord Cregan was handsome, and there was something about him—something familiar, something that that made the stark just more like her family. She wondered what made this generation of starks have the otherworldly beauty that the Valryians are famous for. He looked genuinely pleased to see Viserra, and the subtle tension he had held in King’s Landing was missing here. She understood—this was his home, where he felt safe.
She glanced toward the back of the crowd, searching for her bastard grandson, but found no sign of him. When Aemon voiced the same question, it was Lord Cregan who answered.
“My prince, we received reports of bandits in the Wolfswood. Daemon and Fenrir left to deal with them. They know the forest better than anyone.”
Alysanne immediately understood why daemon went away when they arrived. Her grandson had to kneel before them if he is in Winterfell when they arrived as tradition and courtesy dictates, but instead, he had conveniently disappeared.. How simply intelligent of him to just go away to avoid that.
“Oh, he left alone to deal with bandits? And just yesterday, knowing we were arriving?” she asked, her voice full of skepticism. “I wonder, what foolishness he had to go alone in a forest where a group of men could ambush him.”
Cregan hesitated for only a heartbeat before bowing slightly.
“Your Grace, Daemon is not in danger. Fenrir is larger than even Winter, and there is nothing in that forest that could harm him. He alone is enough to track and kill the bandits.”
Alysanne saw the honesty in Cregan’s eyes—the absolute belief in his words.
Viserra will have her work cut out for her if she hopes to influence this fool against his bastard kin.
Alysanne sighed inwardly. He truly believes in these otherworldly things.
=======================
The wedding was set to take place in two days, and Alysanne was restless. She was old now, and the cold of the North seeped into her bones in a way it hadn’t decades ago when she had last visited. Even the warmth of Winterfell felt insufficient, and there was a subtle but undeniable feeling that she was not entirely welcome in the castle.
It was the small things that no other noble lady would notice, but Alysanne had always considered the servants and smallfolk worthy of her attention. The servants of Winterfell followed the rules of interacting with nobility to the letter, but their eyes did not lie. She had observed them—the men-at-arms, the castle staff, everyone—and the way they treated Viserra was very different from how they treated Aemon, Rhaenys, and herself.
Viserra received warm, kind smiles, while they were met with nothing but rigid respect. Alyssane had even overheard some of the servants whispering about Daemon, calling him their "god-blessed," hated and belittled by a "hateful harpy of a queen." They whispered how someone who seemed so kind to them could be so cruel to her own grandson.
She had wanted to punish the servants for their insolence, but her son, Aemon, stayed her hand.
"No, Mother," he said firmly. "Do you really want to alienate the staff of Winterfell when they are so welcoming towards my sister? And besides, they only wonder about what I myself have questioned for years. Your indifference and love to your own blood without any rhyme or reason." His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something sharper beneath it. "At least I had a reason to hate my son for so long. I was young, foolish, and mad with grief. But you… you have no reason.
"Similarly, for a long time after Aemma Arryn’s birth, I thought it was because she lacked the Targaryen name—you were indifferent toward that granddaughter of yours. But then I saw how little you liked Viserra once she finally stepped out of Saera’s shadow. Just like now, you suffocate my youngest sister while remaining indifferent to Daemon the younger—yet you dote on Aegon, a boy saved because of Daemon’s wisdom.
Alysanne looked as if she had been struck by the question. But she immediately composed herself and replied coldly.
"I love all my family, but Daemon Snow is a bastard. He is not family. If we considered every dragonseed to be one of us, then half of Dragonstone would be related to us in some way or another. The only reason our line has avoided an overabundance of dragonseeds is that my brother and both my elder sons were monogamous. Even my father, my brother Aegon, and that traitor Maegor left many dragonseeds behind—did we acknowledge them as our uncles or nephews? No, no one did that.
"The mistake, Aemon, is not mine. It is yours. You acknowledged your bastard before the realm—a boy born not even of a Stark girl, but a Snow. You should have known there was no future where you could marry a woman already carrying your child. You should have returned to King’s Landing the moment you knew she was with child. I tire of this stupidity, of you blaming me as if I have wronged him. yet the only person who could truly admonish me remains silent and understanding."
Aemon looked confused for a moment when Alysanne sighed and replied.
Aemon hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing in confusion. Alyssane sighed and answered the question before he could voice it.
"Your father—the King. He knows the truth. That is why he remains indifferent to how I treat Daemon. You should follow his example, my son. As for the servants… I will turn a blind eye to them for now, for Viserra’s sake. I am weary of this cold and this castle. Aemon, come. You will escort me to the godswood, where Silverwing is roosting. I wish to see my beloved dragon and bask in her warmth."
Aemon wanted to refuse, but the sharp look in his mother’s eyes stilled any protests.
"Don’t think you have escaped my question about the other Targaryens, Mother."
=======================
Aemon and Queen Alyssane entered the godswood through the Stark entrance. Only members of House Stark could use it, or those granted permission by Lord Stark himself. They had been given such permission, as Silverwing preferred to spend her time in the godswood, sometimes even lying in the hot spring-fed lake. Both Caraxes and Meleys had been forced to roost in the Wolfswood, as Silverwing had claimed this space for herself. Even Alyssane had been surprised when her dragon had snapped at the younger dragons, sending them away. Even Caraxes was afraid to start a fight with the bigger one.
As they walked deeper into the godswood, Alyssane shivered against the northern cold. From afar, they could see Silverwing’s massive form shifting, her head moving as she made small sounds. Alyssane frowned—she had expected her dragon to be resting.
When they got closer, the source of Silverwing’s movements became clear.
Both Aemon and Alyssane froze in shock. A girl, no older than six or seven, stood by the dragon, scratching its scales and speaking animatedly. Even more astonishing, a massive bear lay a short distance away, completely unbothered by the dragon’s presence.
Aemon knew that Silverwing was the most docile and friendly of dragons and had never killed a human. However, startling her now could be dangerous. Even though the dragon was known to be gentle, no one had ever dared to get so close—even in the presence of the queen. Even their own family was cautious around other’s dragons, except for his father.
He saw the surprise on his mother’s face quickly give way to fear and even anger. Alysanne started briskly walking forward, but Aemon immediately caught her hand in warning.
Mother be calm. Your fear and anger will affect the dragon.
Alysanne stopped at once and took a deep breath. She immediately connected with her dragon—and was met with another surprise.
Alysanne felt neither hostility nor indifference from Silverwing. Instead, the dragon radiated exasperation, a kind of amused fondness toward the girl speaking to her, and even contentment at the scratching and patting. The dragon felt Alysanne’s presence and immediately sent a welcoming trill, eager to show her the child she had found—oh, and the pet bear too.
"Come, son. Silverwing knows we are here now," Alysanne said as they entered the clearing.
The bear immediately lifted its upper body and looked at them. They hesitated, but the bear simply lay back down and closed its eyes. Now, they could clearly hear the excited voice of the child.
"My mother said not to bother other animals or try to befriend them. She told me they would attack me, and she even said I'd be punished if I went looking for dragons, especially since three were coming with the Targs. But I know you’re all just big cats, and my pats will make you like me. Isn’t that right, Silverwing? You’re so beautiful—more than the Red Queen and that snake-headed red one. You are the Silver Queen, the Queen of Beauty!"
Aemon and Alysanne froze, utterly stunned by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
But Aemon… he found himself liking the girl’s voice. He admired her bravery, the sheer wonder and happiness in her voice. What would he give to get back the worry free and innocent days back. He sighed internally even though a smile appeared in his face. And, oddly, he felt a strange sense of kinship with her.
Hem hem.. the queen made some sound to attaract the girls attention, but the girl was really engrossed in the dragon.
Alysanne, who had dealt with many children before, sighed and nodded at her son. Aemon stepped closer and gently placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
"Girl, who ar—"
Perhaps it was the strength of his grip or the speed with which he moved, but the girl reacted far faster than Aemon thought possible. She yelled in surprise, bending forward to escape his grasp. In the same motion, she whirled around, a knife already in hand, stabbing toward him with a fierce snarl on her face.
Only years of training allowed Aemon to react in time, stepping back just enough to evade the strike. He looked down at her face—and froze.
The girl looked up at him—and froze as well, her wide eyes locking onto his hair and eyes. A second later, she hastily dropped the knife, her expression shifting to a sheepish grin tinged with fear.
Aemon, however, remained frozen for another reason.
She had Lyarra’s eyes and same wild spirit. His beloved Lyarra.
And beneath the northern coloring, he could see it—the same sheer, inhuman beauty hidden in her features, just like Rhaeny’s beauty hidden by black hair. He had already felt some connection to the girl from afar. And now, combined with how much Silverwing tolerated her antics, the truth settled in his mind.
Granddaughter. Daemon’s child.
A harsh sound tore through his thoughts—his mother’s voice.
"Girl," Alysanne snapped, her anger evident as she processed the fact that her son had nearly been stabbed by a mere child.
"Mother," Aemon warned, his voice calm. "It’s all right. The little lady was startled. The fault is mine. One should not touch a lady when she is engrossed in something. Isn’t that right. Lady..?"
The girl hesitated. "Lyanna Mormont," she said, then quickly added, "My prince."
His mother made an irritated sound.
Aemon knew Alysanne hadn’t seen his Lyanna yet, as his body blocked the girl from view. He stepped aside.
The moment Alysanne caught sight of the child, her sharp voice turned into a snap. "Girl, I appreciate your preparedness, but how could you attack a prince of the blood? And what foolishness led you to pet my dragon? She could have ki—"
But Aemon smirked as his mother’s voice, once filled with anger, slowly shifted—to curiosity, then wonder, and finally recognition.
Alysanne fell silent. She understood now. This child was Targaryen by blood. The answer to Silverwing’s unusual friendliness was clear. And she finally understood Aemon’s smirk and his apparent lack of concern over the attempted attack.
The girl shifted uncomfortably. "My queen?" she asked hesitantly.
Alysanne shook her head. "Lady Mormont, since my son was unharmed and found no fault, you are forgiven. Now, on to more important matters. What made you come here and pet a dragon? That was incredibly foolish. You could have been burned—or killed."
"But, Your Grace, Silverwing was welcoming. I came with Teddy to watch from afar, but she sniffed me out and called to me. And I know no animals will harm me. Also… I couldn’t be burned. I once touched fire, and I felt only warmth."
Both Aemon and Alysanne’s eyes widened in awe. They had good fire resistance—but neither of them were unburnt.
"I see," Alysanne murmured. "Silverwing is always friendly, but you are fortunate it was her and not another dragon. Beware, young lady—never approach a dragon without its bonded rider. Do you understand?"
Alysanne’s emotions were in turmoil. This was her first great-grandchild, but this was the bastard’s daughter. And she could already see it—the sheer cuteness of the girl. She would be more beautiful than her own Saera.
The girl nodded. "I understand, Your Grace."
Alysanne pressed on. "Now, tell me—who are your parents?"
At that, the girl hesitated. Alysanne saw her eyes widen slightly, and realization dawned—Lyanna had just now understood that she was standing before her grandfather and great-grandmother.
"My mother is Dacey Mormont, heiress to Bear Island. And my father is a bear in the forest."
"What?" Alysanne said in shock. "A bear? Don’t joke with me. Who is Lady Dacey’s husband? Tell me his name."
"But my mother isn’t married. Even my grandmother isn’t married. I’ve heard that in other houses, if a noblewoman is the last of her line, someone will marry and take her name. But Mormonts don’t do that. We have children, and they are always named Mormont. That was our tradition when the Ironborn ruled us, and it remains our tradition under the Starks."
Alysanne whispered, "But… only the king has the right to—"
"Mother," Aemon interrupted. "This has been their tradition for millennia. The Conqueror allowed the noble houses to keep their customs unless he explicitly denied it."
Alysanne hesitated, then finally nodded.
Aemon turned back to the girl. "So, Lady Lyanna, do you know the name of this 'bear in the forest'? Did your mother name him? Did he name himself?"
Lyanna looked down. "I promised not to tell his name to anyone… when he returned to Bear Island."
Alysanne nearly hugged the girl on the spot to calm her down and pinch the cheeks. She was so huggable and adorable. She wondered if Silverwing’s fondness for Lyanna was influencing her own feelings.
Aemon nodded. "Oh? Then there’s no need to break that promise. Come, child. Since you know the name, you must know who I am. Walk with me—I want to learn all about you."
Aemon saw Lyanna was worried and was hesitating, so Aemon added, "If you do, I’ll tell you about my dragon—the snake-headed one. I may even introduce you to him."
Immediately, Aemon could see all the worry and fear vanish from his granddaughter's face, replaced by excitement.
"Really? Then come! I will introduce you to Teddy here and even Fenrir when he comes back to me—after he gets bored with Uncle Daemon. Come pet him here, I found Teddy here when I was only two, in a cave in the forest with his mama bear."
Alysanne was once again surprised, and even a sense of worry for the girl entered her mind. She decided to have a talk with Lady Mormont about how her blood had found its way into the forest when she was only two.
The girl started running but came to an immediate stop. Aemon thought it was out of courtesy to the queen, as tradition dictated, but the girl completely ignored his mother. Instead, she ran to Silverwing and hugged the dragon's neck as it lay on the ground.
"Oh, Silvy, I will come back to be your friend so you are not lonely and even bring some meat for you. If the servants don’t give me any, I could make Fenrir or Teddy hunt something for you. Don’t worry, I will keep you company when you are here."
The dragon simply purred and trilled in contentment.
At that, Aemon had to swallow his laughter at his mother’s expression.
========================
Authors Note: yeah that happened…. Surely daemon’s plan to hide his child and never saying to lyanna he is her father would have worked wonderfully…..
Dear Readers, please note that I had run a festival discount of 10% for 1 month for Potter Tier in Dec 1- 31st last year for ALL my readers. Unfortunately pat reon had other settings… it only came to my attention that the discount option is only shown to new, free or cancelled members, not existing subscribers. So many had missed out on it and thus I have scheduled the same discount from March 1 to 31st.
I am grateful to all the support and everyone can avail the discount by cancelling and restarting the membership!!
Comments
the batman
yeah..... :D !!!!!
Derrick Ofori-Yeboah
🤣😭🤣😭 my father is a bear in the forest 🤣🤣
the batman
that is an nice guess... let see what happens.... lyanna will have prominence in the story..
Tariel Khalvashi
Looks like I know who the next rider of this dragon will be. Lianna is just great. I hope she will be an important character in this story.
avatarjedi
I was really bored and I just got a $100 tip at work today so I bought the next two chapters early. I really liked this one. Aemon and Lyanna was so cute!
the batman
Thanks !!! Next chapter will be up today for malfoy tier, which will be last updte for tier in forseeable future. Next chapter will be open for potter on 26-2-25.. but ads 29 will only be published for EVERYONE as scheduled... i.e in march first week.....
Amit Efraim
It was a great chapter when is the next one please i need more
