Chapter Text
He sat as the sea dragged away the sand under his feet. The feel was the same as before. The only things that changed were the facts that he was neither Maegor nor was he in Braavos anymore.
The change had been rather abrupt. He sat down on the beach as he watched the sun set. It had been a week since he had been here. It took him quite a while to get adjusted. Maegor Targaryen had never been to this place. But he wasn't Maegor anymore, nor was he in the times he had lived.
Dragonstone was the seat of the Targaryens from before the Doom, the seat where the heirs to the Iron Throne were meant to rule. He had never been to Dragonstone before, but he had heard many tales from his mother.
The only important woman in his life. He still firmly believed that his mother's final wish was what had brought him here. A life without having to carry the burdens of being named Maegor.
He let a smile slip at the thought of his mother. His mother, Daenora Targaryen, had been the strongest person he had ever met. A woman, a princess she was, a queen and dowager queen she would have been.
It was all snatched away by a few men who, deep in their cups, decided they knew better. But his mother was strong and proud. She left Westeros then, taking him along, leaving behind all the luxuries of still being a princess.
"Aemond." It was Alicent Hightower. His supposedly new mother. She reminded him of his own mother whenever he gave it a thought.
His mother had fought for his inheritance, but it was all for naught. The Iron Throne, which should rightfully have been his, went to his uncle Aegon. What use was there in being bitter about losing something that should have been his?
Alicent was doing the same, fighting for the throne, which she believed was her son's birthright — and now he was one of her sons.
"You are alone," he said, seeing her standing there without anyone escorting her, not even the Kingsguard.
"I thought of having a private conversation with you," she said, giving him a disapproving look as she took in his wet clothes. He didn't speak, just stared at her.
She seemed rather reluctant at first, but she sat beside him. He was surprised that she actually sat beside him on wet sand, willingly ruining her dress.
"Don't look so surprised, you are my son," she said, before trying to ruffle his hair. He got away.
"You said you have something to tell me," he said, perfectly changing the course of the conversation.
"You have been avoiding me lately."
"And who told you about this, mother?"
"Myself, of course," she smiled at him. It was rather comforting.
His mother used to do this — sit on the shore and watch across the sea, whenever she missed home. He liked joining her to comfort her.
He leaned his head on her shoulder as they looked at the turbulent sea in silence.
"I also heard that there were a few changes you made to your training schedule."
"Ser Criston told you," he said, more than asked.
He had changed his training schedule, as he preferred a spear compared to a sword. It was something he preferred — it was the weapon he had trained with his whole life before getting here.
So he increased his training with a sword and also asked to be trained to use a spear so that he wouldn't lose a fight even if he had to use a sword without losing his grip on his skill of using a spear.
"If this is about what your father told you, don't feel too bad about it," she said.
Her words brought him back to the matter at hand. His mother had made sure that he learned about his ancestry.
The Dance of the Dragons was a rather important part of the history of House Targaryen. He had always been someone who would rather know about history than what was happening in the present, so he was quite familiar with the last rider of Vhagar, the mount Queen Visenya herself once rode.
Aemond One-Eye Targaryen. He also knew how he had gotten the dragon, and what he had lost in getting it. Everyone in the world dreamed of riding those beasts, and few ever would. He, too, had dreamed about it, only to wake up and be reminded that dragons no longer existed.
But now he was in a time where dragons existed, and he could be the rider of the largest dragon alive in these times. Aemond was the rider of it — and since he was Aemond now, he was sure that he could be the rider of Vhagar.
But he wasn't willing to lose an eye, so he made a plan. All that was left now was to execute it.
"I have something I want from you, mother." When he saw his new mother's face brighten, he knew at that moment that she would be willing to do almost anything just to make him speak to her.
He felt a little bad, but thinking of the possible future eased it a little.
"What is it?" Looking at him, her tone changed, and her face turned serious, as she knew that whatever he was about to ask would be something she didn't approve of.