Chapter Text
The battle between Aemond and Daemon was fierce, Vhagar and Caraxes fighting to the death. Caraxes’ jaw had a set grip on Vhagar’s neck. Vhagar had managed to tear off Caraxes’ wing, her claws searing into Caraxes’ belly. Aemond watched as Daemon leaped off of Caraxes’ saddle, lunging at him, Dark Sister in hand. Daemon was ready to seek bloodshed– Just as Aemond was.
Once again, Aemond felt a weapon pierce into his eye. First, it had been Lucerys over a decade ago in Driftmark, and now it was Daemon with Dark Sister in the missing eye socket. It felt like a cruel joke by the sevens. The pain was excruciating and unbearable, although Aemond swore that this time, the pain was worse than last time. At least last time, he had the gentle hand of his mother worrying for him. He had also wounded his Uncle to no return. Both Vhagar and Caraxes had plunged into the lake. The last thing he remembered was plunging into the sea, his vision getting blurry as he was submerged in water, and the water filling his lungs.
On the 22nd day of the 5th moon of the year 130 AC, Aemond remembered both his injury and the water filling his lungs, dragging him into a watery death. So why in Seven hells had he woken in his ten-year-old body? Aemond’s nimble fingers reached up to his left eye. He still had it. This meant he hadn’t claimed Vhagar yet. He remembered the deaths of many, from both the black and green factions. Adults and kids. The stranger came even for the dragons.
Aemond felt ill. Surely this was a dream? Perhaps the seven were playing a cruel trick on him? He let out a tired sigh as he paced his room. Just how did he manage to travel back in time? Why was this happening exactly? Was he dead, trapped in some afterlife
The young prince pinched his arm, the instant red color blooming onto his pale arm, and the stinging pain that followed right after. He let out a groan of pain; he was not in a dream, and he was fully conscious. He felt so odd, back in his ten-year-old body. It was even odder having to adapt to being able to see from both eyes, the looming pain that ached in his nerves no longer there.
His eyes snapped as the door opened, revealing his mother. His eyes softened, the only parent who truly cared, while his father had a favorite child, and it definitely wasn't Aemond or his siblings.
“Mother.” Aemond greeted. A small whisper, he was afraid that if he said it any louder, the stranger would come for his mother. Gods, had he missed her? She looked so young; the king hadn’t died yet. The war hadn’t left her tired yet.
“Sweetling,” Alicent replied, and Aemond had the urge to wallow in his mother’s arms and tell her everything he had experienced. “As you know, we will be traveling to Driftmark for your Aunt’s funeral.”
Aemond looked up at his mother. He remembered this talk from his past life; his mother said the same words. In that timeline, Aemond had been focused on how to claim Vhagar. To feel the pride of claiming the largest and fiercest dragon, a memento of the time of Aegon’s conquest.
“I want you to be careful, Sweet boy, don’t do anything rash or dangerous.” That warning. Did she know that he would attempt to claim Vhagar in his last life? Did she realize just how badly Aemond wanted a dragon and just how much he was willing to risk? How disheartened he was when his egg didn’t hatch?
“Mother-” He began, only to be interrupted.
“Promise me, Sweet boy. That you won’t do anything rash, that you won’t go out and try anything dangerous like attempting to claim a wild dragon”
Aemond’s breath hitched. He could see the clear worry on his mother’s face; her face was swollen, and her eyes lacked any light. Just like before. Sevens! How did he miss this in his past life? She was young, but it seemed as if life had forced her to age more quickly, to face the worries without a mother by her side.
“I promise, mother.” Aemond replied in a soft voice; he did not want to worry his mother. He didn’t want her to have to protect him in the Driftmark castle, against his father, who clearly cared more about his grandsons’ percentage being questioned than his son, who had just been maimed. “I promise not to claim Vhagar.”
Alicent’s arm instinctively wrapped around Aemond’s now small frame. The young prince stilled in his mother’s hold. In his past life, he never felt the comfort of anyone for years before the stranger came for him, except her. He thought he needed to be feared and respected, that the only way to end the war was through bloodshed. Yet, why did being in his mother’s arms feel so warm? He wouldn’t disappoint her again; he wouldn’t make her feel like she was the only one who cared for her children, even if it was true.
Aemond was silent in his mother’s arms. A whirlwind of thoughts surrounds his mind. He yearned to tell her about the past life– to tell her to be wary of Otto’s manipulation and the dangers of the dance that was lurking on the horizon. He yearned to tell her not to do anything foolish that would quicken the dance.
How could he? Would she believe him? Would anyone accept the words from a ten-year-old, yet had the memories of a twenty-year-old.
The tightness and discomfort in his chest grew. The warmth of her embrace felt comforting, yet it reminded him of the vulnerability he faced. He couldn’t bear the thought of her dismissing his warnings or, worse, thinking him mad and sending him to the septon, or worse, Oldtown.
Aemond took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. In that moment, he resolved to protect her, even if it meant keeping his secrets and leaving her in the dark. His past was a shadow he couldn’t easily share, but perhaps there were other ways to guide her—subtly, cautiously. Perhaps like this, he could protect those he held close to his heart and not let them suffer the fate they faced in Aemond’s previous life.
” Mother.” He croaked in a quiet voice, “I know Grand-sire wants to send Daeron to Oldtown to be a cupbearer.”
There was still silence between the mother and son duo. Alicent did not want to send her youngest son away; he was only four at the moment, and her sweet boy. Yet, her father had thought there was really no need for Daeron.
” I want to go,” Aemond mumbled, looking up at his mother’s face. “I don’t want to go to Driftmark, I want to stay in the keep and instead pack to go to Oldtown.”
Another silence.
Alicent felt her breath hitch. Aemond was her sweetest boy, her little boy who she thought wouldn’t survive. He had been twice as small as his older brother, yet he cried the loudest. The maester had been worried that Aemond wouldn’t have survived the night, so she stayed by his crib for moons. He cried if she was away.
Aemond truly did want to go to Oldtown. He remembered in his past life,e he was the reason the dance was triggered, that stormy night he followed Luc. That night, Arrax on Vhagar was the night the dance began. When Lucerys and Arrax fell to their death in the sea, their bodies were found in pieces.
The Queen thought about it once more. Oldtown. A small part of her told herself that Aemond would blossom in Oldtown, with so much history and the Starry Sept nearby, and such a city that bustled with life and trade. It wasn’t like King’s Landing,g where vipers disguised themselves in court. Aemond would thrive in her hometown, alongside the books and her brother.
So in a moment of certainty, Alicent did one thing that would surely hurt her. “Alright, sweetling.” She whispered, keeping a tight hold on her son. “I’ll make proper arrangements to send you to Oldtown, you will have to write to me a lot, and listen to everything your uncle says.”
Aemond quickly nodded. Was it possible? Was his mother allowing him an escape from the capital? Aemond adored Uncle Gwayne; the man resembled his mother a lot, but he tended to be more lenient. Aemond understood now, Uncle Gwayne had been given freedom and not been controlled like his mother.
Alicent looked at her little boy, his sweet eyes sparkling in happiness. When was the last time he was so happy? She remembered when he was three and four, absolutely excited for his dragon to hatch. He would carry it everywhere, he told himself it was going to hatch any day.
Alicent liked seeing her baby boy so happy.
“I will speak to your grandsire on this matter, but I will not stop until he agrees.” She stated, her nimble fingers carding through his silvery blond hair. “Please, sweet one, take care of yourself, if and when the time comes, come back home safe to me.”
It was a plea. Aemond kept silent; she was pleading for him to come home safely when the time came. He remembered she had said the same time when he had left for Rook's Rest, although she didn’t say Rook's Resty. Aemond could see it in her eyes; she begged the sevens to bring her boy home when he mounted Vhagar.
Her eyes were always so expressive. Sometimes, Aemond wished he had gotten her eyes. Hazel eyes with flecks of green it reminds him of Vhagar. Instead, he had the king’s eyes, the eyes of the man who never loved him,
“Thank you.” Aemond replied. He felt so thankful for his mother, the woman who would do anything for him, Aemond only wanted to protect his mother and family in this life. To make sure the dance didn't start and his mother wouldn't have to mourn him.