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Life Eternal

This is an HOTD fanfic based off *another* fanfic, Second Sons by @avengingangelfanfic

The order I highly recommend reading in is Second Sons first (might take you a while, as it clocks in at well over 500K words!) and then reading my drabble prologue here:

This is a drabble based off of Second Sons by @avengingangelfanfic ! Set 25 years into the future in that same fanfic universe, at Storm’s

Lastly, you can proceed with the story in THIS post!

Disclaimer: The events in this fic are NOT canon to the canon events of AvengingAngel's story! It was just an idea bouncing around and I asked for permission, which was graciously given, to put it in words. Gif credits are in the gifs themselves, except for the still image of King Edward, which is a screengrab from TLK.

Summary: Set 44 years after the initial events of Second Sons, Daemon Targaryen, son of Aemond and Lyanna, struggles to find his way due to his parents' fame. Who will he go to first in order to solve this problem?

Faceclaims: Daemon (Aemond as portrayed by Ewan Mitchell, except without the missing eye and his hair in a single ponytail)

Royce Baratheon (King Edward from The Last Kingdom, as portrayed by Timothy Innes)

Alphonse Baratheon (Osferth from The Last Kingdom, as portrayed by Ewan Mitchell)

King Jacaerys (Aragorn as portrayed by Viggo Mortensen)

Aegon II and Helaena (Tom Glynn-Carney and Phia Saban, but just imagine them way older!)

Word Count: 4400

Rating: T (mentions of death, mentions of violence)

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In the first 25 years of the reign of Rhaenyra, the People’s Queen, Westeros enjoyed unprecedented peace and prosperity. Save for the usual disputes between great houses over old wounds, the staving off of pirates who got too bold every couple of years, and the hard winter of 140 AC,those first 25 years were considered the Golden Age of the Seven Kingdoms.

It seemed once the new queen made short work of the extremist Faith Militant and the Flameborn in House Targaryen were revealed, no other major enemy desired a dance with the dragons who sat the Iron Throne.

Such a difference to the tragic years shortly following the birth of Prince Aemond and Princess Lyanna’s 7th child, Daemon. Before the terrible times of turmoil, let us tell of this last instance of happiness for The Dragon Blade and his Princess of Hearts.

The much beloved son came after 6 equally loved daughters: Catelyn, the eldest and born in the midst of the Crown’s battle against the Faith Militant, Laena, second and named for her grandsire’s second wife and Queen Baela’s mother, Alicent,their third, named for her father’s mother and who grew to share Prince Aemond’s love of books, Alyssa came fourth, named for her great-grandmother, followed by a fifth daughter, Daenys, who together with Alyssa stuck to her elder sister Alicent like a shadow. A sixth child, seemingly the last (for it was 7 years after the birth of Daenys that this occurred and following this birth, it would be ten years before Princess Lyanna’s womb would quicken again, everyone of the mind that she was going through her change of no longer being fertile) turned out to be another daughter, whose name was decided upon to be Rhaenys.

“By your leave, we have decided to name her Rhaenys.” Prince Aemond had famously told The Queen Who Never Was, upon his arrival at Driftmark. He had taken up the habit of flying upon Vhagar to announce the births of his children to the lords and ladies of various houses.

So it was when Princess Lyanna brought forth a son. While she stayed in King’s Landing with the King Consort and Queen positively preening with pride over their latest grandson, Prince Aemond flew to the great houses his daughters had married into: Caswell (for Laena), Umber (Daenys), and lastly Baratheon (his eldest, Catelyn, had married Lord Royce). Two of his daughters, Alicent and Alyssa, had married Aegon II’s sons, Maelor and Valerion, respectively. They resided in the red keep with the rest of the family, seeing to the celebrations. King’s Landing was full of joy, its citizens celebrating yet another dragon born.

No one could predict the absolute horror that was to come, the calamity that would begin with the murder of her grace Queen Rhaenyra and her Lord Hand and husband, King Consort Daemon, in the city of Braavos.

No ravens came but a messenger on a ship arrived with a barebones crew to deliver the horrible news. Braavos would have been burned to the ground by command of the newly made King Jacaerys, had his fury not been assuaged by the Dragon Blade.

Prince Aemond, having been made Hand of The King in the war council immediately following the news, felt the matter stank of outside forces plotting against Braavos. The city and its holdings had always been friendly with the crown, had sent much needed aid during the hard winter, always paid tariffs when in Westeros’ ports instead of covertly trying to weasel out of them and all the sea lords had immediately condemned the murder. What’s more, Caraxes and Syrax had not attacked the city. The two dragons instead flew to Mereen and began setting that city aflame before being fended off by canons, spears and all manner of debris being flung at them with catapults. They did not immediately return to Dragonstone or King’s Landing, only appearing later at the deciding battle of the upcoming conflict. It was not long after the war council that the White Worm came to King Jacaery’s court with the information she had been tasked to uncover the moment messenger’s had informed House Targaryen of the killings.

So the ravens flew from the Red Keep all over Westeros: Rhaenyra, Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, and her husband Daemon, King Consort, were dead by orders of Khal Drogo, self-styled king of Slaver’s Bay. Khal Drogo was determined to be the Stallion Who Mounts The World, and only House Targaryen had any hope of standing against his mighty army of giants, wizards and slaves.

It seemed that King Jacaerys, who history would come to know as Jacaerys the Defender, would have his mettle as a ruler first tested by this tyrant. A funeral was held for his late mother and stepfather, the much loved Queen and King, their bodies having been delivered personally by a council of sealords from Braavos.

The funeral procession was a most heart wrenching sight. Flowers were tossed as the bodies passed by. The smallfolk wept and wailed. Even the guards had visible streams of tears flowing from their faces.

Saddest of all was the procession of the new King and Queen’s family. King Jacaerys and Queen Baela steadily walked by, their bodies rigid and faces like stone. Crown Prince Aemon followed, tear tracks clear on his face, his eyes full of fire and looking determined for revenge. The Lord and Lady of Driftmark, Lucerys and Rhaena Velaryon, came after, followed by Aegon II holding steady Princess Helaena, all their children following.

Prince Aemond and Princess Lyanna had fallen behind with Lord Rick Tully, they struggled with him to comfort and raise up Lady Alicent Tully, who had collapsed on the path and was screaming with intense sorrow. The people of King’s Landing could only watch in sadness as Aemond, Lyanna and Rick took to kneeling on the ground, attempting to get a hysterical Alicent to stand and walk. Her words were heard by all nearby.

“Don’t make me do it! Please, gods, don’t make me do it!! I cannot I cannot do it please do not make me-”

—-------

Daemon Targaryen closed the history book. It was looking to be yet another disappointment in what he was searching for, as was every book and scroll that talked of his late parents. He had read so many that by now he could predict how the maesters, septas and scholars would choose to portray his mother and father: in every way except as people. Rubbing his temples and standing to search for another book in the library, he contemplated his next move.

It was always the same. They were devoted to each other, moved and operated almost as one unit, songs were written of them, their words and actions immortalized on paper and stone, and yet…they felt like strangers to him. He had lost them in the last battle of the war against Khal Drogo, when he was but a year old and King Jacaerys had afterwards issued a rather strange decree: no one was to talk to him of his parents until he came of age.

When he was a small boy, he did not see the reasoning for such a thing, but soon learned. Prince Aemond and Princess Lyanna were akin to mythical deities for the people of King’s Landing and all throughout the seven kingdoms, second in popularity only to the People’s Queen herself, Rhaenyra. King Jacaerys did not want Daemon to grow up under the pressure of living up to them. Though they were all aware of the decree, it didn’t stop little comments constantly peppered into Daemon’s interactions with the smallfolk.

In his growing years, he didn't understand them. As a teenager, it got infuriating. Daily, as he walked about the city, he was always told he was his father reborn. Many would add that he may be his father in looks but his heart was all his mother’s. His own wants, his own ambitions, his own words even, were continually dismissed as people would try to prod him into acting like his parents, people he never knew. His cousin, the King, suddenly did not seem so unwise with his decree. Had it been obeyed fully, Daemon guessed he could have grown up not feeling so inadequate. He used to hate it at first, resent it, this constant shadow of his parents ever looming over him everywhere he went.

Now, a couple of weeks past his 19th nameday, he finally felt a desire to know them as a son should. His sisters, far older than he, were not much help. Daenys and Laena lived away from the Red Keep, their own holds to rule along with their husbands and own families to look after. Alicent was always busy either with her namesake library or their grandsire Daemon’s university, Alyssa ever at her side. Rhaenys had married into House Stark some years ago, far too remote to regularly converse with even by raven.

Catelyn Baratheon and her husband Lord Royce were the ones he was closest to, despite them having approximately 30 some years on him, their eldest son Alphonse his dearest friend. Ravens to and from Storm’s End were common, visits on dragonback frequent. Daemon’s brilliant white dragon, Parthurnaax, enjoyed flying to Storm’s End to cavort with Caraxes, his grandsire’s old mount, who had been claimed by Alphonse.

Daemon shared a special bond with his slightly older nephew: save for the signature Baratheon brown hair, Alphonse had Aemond Targeryen’s face as well.

He understood the impossible comparisons to some degree but his parents insisted he shared only a face with his grandsire yet even they could not help but admit the truth when he had asked: though Alphonse had a softer version of the late Dragon Blade’s face, it was his son Daemon who had grown to be the very mirror of him (save for not having a missing eye himself).

Alphonse and his uncle were quite close, as close as brothers would be, the result of having been fostered in King’s Landing until he came of age himself. Alphonse had often found himself reassuring his uncle after a particularly bad day.

“Let them talk. Saying a thing does not make it so. You are Daemon Targaryen, not Aemond the Dragon Blade.” Alphonse would say.

Catelyn, while never having an in depth discussion with Daemon about her own father and mother, as per King Jacaery’s decree, insisted that the stories told by the people and the histories written by maesters and septas would never come close to doing justice to the memory of Aemond and Lyanna. Royce, who had also known them well, agreed. Three years past, on Daemon’s 16th nameday, they both offered to sit and talk of them with him.

Still in the throes of his frustrations of not being considered his own person, he had angrily refused with all the vehemence of a 16 year old determined they were the only one in the world feeling such anger. Daemon had even refused to answer Catelyn’s ravens for a few months after. Alphonse had tried to make peace with them but was unsuccessful until communications were initiated by Daemon himself again.

Now, at 19, it was Daemon who broached the subject once more. One week since he had sent a raven and still no answer. No matter. There were periods of time when Catelyn took up to two weeks to respond, duties as Lady of Storm’s End keeping her busy. Daemon was happy to wait, now that he was sure of what he wanted.

—-------

Daemon did not have to wait long. 2 weeks after sending a raven, he was summoned by his cousin.

“His Grace, King Jacaerys, invites you to break your fast with him and Prince Aegon the Elder, my prince.” Ser Arryk informed him one morning, as he was just leaving his chambers. Daemon knew it was not an invitation. His presence was required. Ever since his spat with Catelyn, despite having reconciled, he felt that the King remained short with him and it was best not to antagonize him by refusing an order.

He made his way to the vast family common balcony on a far end of the keep. It offered the most expansive, amazing view of the city. When he got there, Helaena was also present, she and Aegon milling about the smaller table full of food and transferring morsels to their own plates before seating themselves at the bigger table. King Jacaerys, already seated at the head of it, laughed at something Aegon said. Servants stood by the door but the atmosphere was relaxed. So it was to be an informal meal…

“Cousin. Uncle. Aunt. A lovely morning, is it not?” he called out as he entered. They all turned and he saw it, the look everyone always gave. Like they thought for a moment that Aemond Targaryen stood before them until reality set in. It was hard not to think that way for them, he supposed. Daemon had grown his hair long as Targaryen men traditionally did but still snuck in a bit of defiance: instead of the half ponytail favored by his father in all paintings he saw of him, he kept his tresses tied back in a single, low ponytail.

“Daemon.” Jacaerys said. “Come, I have a task for you.” He motioned for him to sit in the chair across from Aegon and Helaena, who both smiled and nodded at his presence.

Daemon sat, taking a glass of wine offered by Helaena. He faced the King. “What is it?”

“Alphonse tells me Storm’s End has need of a dragon. Him and your sister Catelyn are due in Braavos for a diplomatic trip on behalf of the Crown. Lord Baratheon would appreciate your presence until they return.” Jacaerys bit a piece of lamb off his fork as he finished speaking.

Daemon was confused for a moment. “Did a raven come? I wrote to Catelyn weeks ago and have not received a response.”

Aegon chuckled a bit. “That is because Alphonse wrote to us on her behalf, since Catelyn was momentarily away with Royce, dealing with some border dispute. Apparently they gave him leave to read their correspondence and when they got back they didn’t feel sending another raven was necessary…”

“It was the right decision, in the end.” Jacaerys put in. “Catelyn hasn’t the time right now to really give you the discussion of your parents that you deserve. This trip is important.” At this, Daemon snapped to attention.

“I’m sorry, nephew. “ Helaena apologized. “ We visited them on dragonback the other day. Everyone is aware now, that you are ready to know the truth.” she said simply, as was often her way. Daemon felt his cheeks burn. Everyone? Everyone knew his business?! Catelyn would pay for this. Alphonse too!

“You should leave as soon as possible. Catelyn and Alphonse will take flight as soon as they see Parthurnaax in the skies.” Jacaerys continued. “The groups causing trouble in their lands have been quelled and Lord Baratheon has more than enough men to keep it that way, but the presence of a dragon will ensure things remain peaceful.”

Daemon said nothing, staring at his plate. Helaena began talking, attempting to snuff out the tension brewing. “Lord Baratheon loved your parents well, Daemon. I’m sure he would be happy to talk about them with you until Catelyn returns.” Still, Daemon said nothing. Jacaerys took notice and put his fork and cup of wine down, looking to him.

“Nephew-”Aegon began, trying to diffuse the situation but Daemon cut in.

“All this blustering is unnecessary, Your Grace.” he said, the last two words laced with venom. “Be direct with me: you are not sending me to assist Storm’s End. Lord Baratheon needs help fending off raiders like my dragon needs help killing the sheep for his meals.”

The servants tensed, Aegon and Helaena remained silent. Jacaerys was now fuming but his voice remained calm. “Cousin...what reason would I have to not be direct with you?” he asked in a silky, irritated voice. He stared unflinchingly at Daemon, who stared back but seemed to second guess his decision to lash out. He may be family, but Jacaerys was still King of all Westeros. If Daemon were anyone else, he would surely be sleeping in the dungeons tonight for daring to speak in such a way in the King’s presence.

“I am not a child anymore.” Daemon said.

“The fact has not escaped my notice, despite you currently having the attitude of one.” Jacaerys said. “Come now, there's no need to be angry. I am not using any pretext to send you off. Your long awaited talk of your parents is merely a pleasant addition to your mission. Think of this as more a favor to me” his voice softening, Jacaerys continued. “I may be King but Vermax and I cannot be everywhere at once. It would soothe my mind to know my coast remains under protection of a dragon.”

Quick as it had come, Daemon’s anger dissipated at the caring tone in his cousin’s voice. Helaena reached out to hold his hand as Aegon spoke up.

“We will certainly be happy to talk of your parents further with you when you come back.” Aegon said with a smile. “No more sidestepping the subject, nephew. You deserve to know them fully as we did and to love them as we all still do.”

Feeling he would cry if he spoke, Daemon merely nodded stiffly at them all and started to eat. Jacaerys began to speak of the weather with Aegon and Helaena as if it were the most riveting topic, all of them pointedly ignoring Daemon’s silence. He would speak to them again when he felt ready.

—-------

Of all days for Storm’s End to have clear skies and a shining sun, Lord Royce Baratheon thought it auspicious that it would be today. His brother-in-law, Daemon, had arrived a few hours ago. Royce happily greeted him in the courtyard despite the reserved demeanor that initially met him.

“Brother, it is good to see you.” Daemon seemed jittery and restless. Royce tactfully led him to his library and had refreshments brought. It was best to just get on with it, Daemon had waited long enough.

“How are Catelyn and Alphonse?” Daemon asked, hands clasped behind his back as he paced the library, ignoring the lemon cakes and tea brought.

Royce smiled, his hands clasped to his stomach. “They are the same.” He took a lemon cake and nibbled at it. “Catelyn infuriating with her winning of bets against me, her own lord husband. Alphonse insists we arrange his marriage because talking to any maiden causes him to break out in a cold sweat and so making a match himself would be impossible, according to him.”

“He had gotten better at that, last I saw him.” Daemon chuckled.

“Has he? I have yet to see such a thing.”

“Perhaps it is just the fact that he cannot do it under your eye? He says you scare him. Not in a way that you would mean him harm, but just the way you carry yourself. As if you could achieve the greatest things in history.”

“I would hardly say talking to a maiden is one of the greatest things in history but your sister might become cross with me if she heard me giving voice to such an opinion.” Royce joked.

Daemon laughed and the older man looked on fondly. He was so like his father in appearance, but he laughed like his mother…

“Well…I think everyone in all of Westeros by now knows why I am here…” Daemon began. “I don't even know how to begin to…I just…I know nothing of them, really. All those histories, their great achievements, they tell me nothing. Of mother and father. I don’t even know what to ask!”

Royce sighed.

“You do not have to confine yourself to only ask of pivotal moments, you know. You can ask me anything of them, however mundane you may think it to be.”

“Truly? You would not think me wasting your time?”

“Not at all. I've been waiting for us to have this conversation with much anticipation, actually.”

“Anything?” Daemon asked again, still not quite believing he would finally get to know what his mother and father were truly like.

“Anything, brother. If you wish to know what jokes would cause your mother to roll her eyes, I will tell you. If you desire to know what the most frequent source of your father’s irritations was, I will spare no detail. Ask away.”

“Well…” Daemon began, looking out a window. “...I actually wish to start with knowing what you thought of them? When you met them. How they make you feel? How did they treat you? You were just a boy, after all.”

Royce examined the painted ceiling as he began talking. “I was so… terrified when my mother, gods rest her soul, brought my sisters and I to King’s Landing.”

Daemon sat on a chair, arms on the sides of it, listening intently. Royce stayed standing, slowly walking around the library, idly brushing the spines of books as he talked.

“All each of us had ever known was the cruelty of my father. He had the power, so he had the right to treat us as lesser, as he so insisted upon telling us at every opportunity. As soon as he was not in the vicinity, mother would contradict his word, try to build us up after father would tear us down. ‘Cruelty is not the way. None of you deserve this wretched treatment, you deserve kindness and love and happiness.’”

Daemon’s eyes began to mist over but he said nothing and let Royce continue.

“You can imagine my fear when mother dragged us to the Red Keep. Words mean very little when what you actually witness is something different. Save for our mother, kindness and love did not exist to us, especially not from those with power. Our father was a mere lord and he treated us as if we were scum so in my mind, the Targaryens, the rulers of the seven kingdoms and higher up in authority than him, would far outstrip his cruelty to my sisters and I. I had heard stories of this new Princess of Hearts, but I thought them the same as fairy tales: made up fantasies. For no Targaryen could possibly be so kind! Oh, and your father, the Dragon Blade. Well, I was in awe of tales about him but if I ever met him in person I would never have expected him to be anything other than deadly and vicious. He was like Balerion The Black Dread to me. ”

Daemon did not look away as Royce turned to face him.

“I did not believe it when Rhaenys, She Who Might Have Been Queen, vowed we would not be imprisoned. Daeron and Joffrey, despite their friendship with me when my family arrived, insisted we would be treated fairly and still I did not believe. They were not the ones in power, our very fate in their hands. The Dragon Blade had my father thrown to the dungeons for being rude with his words, so I prepared myself to be screamed at and possibly beaten when we were brought before the Queen…when your grandsire ordered everyone out, Rhaenys pulling us back so mother could talk to him alone…I thought it was over for us.”

Royce smiled sadly, continuing his story.

“I wanted to cry when everything turned out for the better, when the Hand promised we would not suffer for my father’s sins. I wanted to crawl up into mother’s arms, to praise her for being the bravest woman in the whole world for facing King Consort Daemon Targaryen himself… but we were in court and it would not have been proper, of course.” He laughed lightly, brightening the mood and Daemon smiled, keeping his silence so Royce could keep talking.

“It just…as soon as I saw there was nothing to fear from Daemon or the Queen, I felt like I wanted to know everything about them, these silver-haired dragonriders! Quite sure father would have beaten me to within an inch of my life if I had dared to ask him if he had magic. Lyanna must have had patience to spare, with all the impertinent questions my sisters asked of her family and bloodline. Her not simply boxing their ears and sending them off to their chambers as my father would often do was a miracle, to be honest.”

Daemon laughed at this along with Royce. Hearing him speak of these things, it was as if he were there himself, watching it all unfold.

“Oh gods, if your over protective mother had known how clumsy Cassandra was, holding Catelyn would have been out of the question. It's a good thing babies and pottery bear no resemblance to each other or my wife would have ended up on the ground as soon as Lyanna had handed her off.” Daemon was crying with laughter now, Royce smiled with glee, allowing him to catch his breath before going on with his recollection of things.

“And when your father appeared! It was very jarring to see what, to me, seemed like a deadly creature sidle up to your beautiful mother and gently give her a kiss. She did not fear him whatsoever! I was in shock, I think. I expected him to ignore me since ,compared to everyone else present, I thought myself of no consequence. He actually squatted down to talk to me. Me! A lad of a mere 5 years. This man who even the guards at home spoke of in fear, who had my father imprisoned just for talking!”

Daemon leaned back in the chair, listening intently. Hearing all this, he felt as if he were meeting his father and mother for the first time. He felt Royce’s joy and enthusiasm.

“Being around them, your parents… it just felt safe. I didn't sense any hooks later to be reeled in for favors from their kindness, like with other lords and ladies…there was no barrier of formality. I didn't feel like my nerves would snap if I made a mistake with court decorum. I did not feel stupid and worthless. They did not paint us with the same brush the rest did due to my father’s actions. I felt I could be myself. It was quite freeing, let me tell you.”

As Royce continued to talk, servants replenished the food and drink. Daemon continued to listen well into the night, happy to finally get to know his mother and father.

CHAPTER 2

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