(Scenario: “You Do Not Realise What You have Done” continues after first origins of the Dance With Dragons short story. After flying Vhagar for the first time, Prince Aemond Targaryran lands to find trouble waiting for him.)
After flying twice around the island of Driftmark, Vhagar descended. Prince Aemond’s stomach lurched as the dragon landed on the ground. His blood raced around his body, faster than ever before, and he breathed in and out to calm himself.
Then, Aemond grinned. Finally, he had claimed a dragon. It had taken him ten years to find one: ten frustrating years, with on-stop mockery from his older brother. Now, Aemond knew that all he had endured had been worth the wait. He had not just claimed any dragon, but Vhagar: the oldest, fiercest dragon left in the world; the one Queen Visenya had flown during the Conquest. It was an honour that Vhagar had chosen him to be her rider.
Aemond slid down Vhagar’s side. When his feet touched the ground, he stepped forward but then stopped. He couldn’t leave his dragon now. Aemond had waited so long for one. To walk away, even for a few hours, was a betrayal to all he had ever wanted.
Aemond turned around. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, placing a hand on Vhagar’s scales. “I promise.”
Vhagar had once turned towns to fire and ash during the days when Queen Visenya had ridden her, like Harrenhal as depicted by Fadly Romdhani. Now, Vhagar could do the same again at Prince Aemond’s command.
“You Are Going To Be In So Much Trouble”
“You are going to be in so much trouble, Aemond.”
Aemond recognised that annoying voice and grunted. He had just got a dragon. Couldn’t his nephew just leave him alone for a few moments to enjoy being with Vhagar? “Oh,” Aemond said, mockingly. He turned around to see his young nephews, Jacaerys and Lucaerys, standing before him. “Tell me all about this trouble I’m in,” he continued. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Our mother is furious with you,” Lucaerys said. “Daeron was crying when we found him in dragon shit. He said you hit him and pushed him into it.”
“I did not,” Aemond lied.
“Aye, then why is he covered in shit and why does he have a bruise on his cheek?” Jacaerys demanded.
“I don’t know,” Aemond lied again. “Maybe, Daeron jumped in the shit and hurt himself to get attention? I don’t care. It just has nothing to do with me.”
“It will when His Grace finds out that you have disobeyed him,” Jacaerys countered, wearing a smarmy grin to add to his irritating being. “He forbade you to take Vhagar, but you took her anyway, as Daeron said you did when he tried to stop you.”
“We’ll Fight You If We Have To.”
Aemond snorted. “And what can His Grace do now?” he said. “Vhagar is mine. She chose me to be her rider. If any of you try to cross me, I’ll have her roast you alive before letting her eat you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lucaerys said. Then, he and his brother removed wooden, tourney swords from their sheaths. “We’ll fight you if we have to. Vhagar isn’t going to do a thing to us. You’ll see.”
Aemond raised his brows and did his utmost not to laugh. His nephews were near half his age, and near half his height and strength. “Not even two of you can you take me on,” he said. “You might as well give up now-”
Jacaerys threw him a tourney sword and Aemond caught it. “We have practiced with you,” Jacaerys said. “You don’t frighten us.”
“That’s because I’ve always taken it easy with you. But I won’t this time.”
The Fight Begins
Aemond attacked Jacaerys with the wooden sword. Jacaerys blocked the strike. Aemond pulled back his sword, swiftly, and stuck his nephew in his unguarded ribs.
Jacaerys gasped. Aemond turned and raised his sword, blocking Lucaerys’ strike. Lucaerys pushed his sword forward, to poke Aemond in the eye.
Aemond swivelled, moving out of the way. Then, he hit Lucaerys in the back as the boy sprawled forwards by his own momentum. Lucaerys bumped into his brother, knocking him over to end up on the floor.
Aemond chuckled. “You boys are pathetic,” he said. “You are too small to stand against me.”
Lucaerys got up, putting on an over-the-top frown. “You’re ten years old,” he said. “You are hardly a fearsome warrior. You are too scrawny for that. Even Aegon says so.”
His words struck a chord in Aemond. As much as he wanted to be, he was not his brother as he lacked Aegon’s muscular build. Still, Aemond was not going to be taunted by his younger nephews. “At least I am a Targaryan.”
“So is our mother,” Lucaerys retorted. “It is not our fault that our father was a Velaryon.”
A Strong Reaction
Aemond snorted. “You’re not a Velaryon,” he said. “You’re a Strong. Everyone knows it.”
Jacaerys ceased bending over in pain and stood up straight. “What did you just say?”
“I said: you’re a Strong. You’re all Ser Harwyn Strong’s bast-”
Jacaerys wailed and launched himself at Aemond. He swung his sword at Aemond’s head. Aemond blocked it.
He went for and Aemond’s thigh and Aemond blocked it.
He thrusted his sword for Aemond’s stomach and Aemond twirled out of the way.
Still twirling, Aemond swiped downward. He swiped so hard he smashed the sword out of Jacaerys’ hand. The smack of the sword hitting the ground reverberated around the cavern.
“I Am Not A Bastard”
Aemond growled. “You should not have attacked me like that,” he said.
“I am not a bastard!” Jacaerys said.
Swordless, he pounced at Aemond. He threw a punch. Aemond caught it and twisted his arm, forcing his nephew off balance.
Aemond dropped his sword and clenched his fist. Jacaerys’ widened. “Stop! Stop!” the boy cried. “You’re hurting me-”
Aemond slammed his fist into Jacaerys’ stomach. Jacaerys bent over and rasped for air. “I told you that you shouldn’t have attacked me,” Aemond said. “Don’t think that just because you are crying like a baby I am going to let you off.” He punched Jacaerys in the groin and the boy yelped. “Scream in a higher pitch and I might even take you for a girl.”
Aemond smirked and forced him to the ground, himself over him. He wanted to stamp on the little shit, to hurt him, yet to make sure that he would leave no physical marks or scars on his nephew.
A Flash Of Silver
But then Aemond glimpsed a blade of sliver flash to the side. He craned his neck and-
Aemond screamed. Pain, sharp pain, exploded from his eye. A dagger’s point had pierced it. Blood gushed from the cut and Aemond put his hand over his eye to hold back the blood streaming down his face.
“Seven Hells,” Lucaerys swore. “I-I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to-”
Vhagar roared. The noise, the heat and the pain dizzied Aemond. His legs were suddenly unable to hold his weight and he slumped against a wall for balance.
The sound of feet pattering echoed. Aemond looked up. Out of his sole good eye, through the blur, he saw his nephews scurrying away down the cavernous tunnel. “Run!” he shouted. “Run like cowards!”
Pain blasted through his brain and Aemond screamed again. Aemond took his hand away. “I can’t see out of my eye,” he said. His heart beat rapidly. His body shook. And his muscles seemed to have turned to jelly. “I can’t see out of my eye!”
“You Do Not Realise What You Have Done”
Lucerys cutting Prince Aemond’s eye.
“You do not realise what you have done,” Jacaerys said to his brother; his voice reverberated down the tunnel. “You could lose an eye for this, or your life. This is going to split our families. War may even come from this.”
The word war channelled the pain within Aemond, directing it at a target. “When my mother learns of what you’ve done,” he shouted. “There will be war, and you will die for this! Mark my word!”
Vhagar snarled. Aemond turned around. He could make out the outline of his dragon against the dark cavern, and Aemond gave her a snarl to match hers. War was going to come now, Aemond was certain of it. And he was damn glad that he had Vhagar to help him fight against his dragon-riding bastard nephews. Vhagar would devour them all. Aemond would make sure of it.
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