Game Of Thrones: The Dragon Targaryen

For the second time in as many weeks, Aelor woke in a tent, though this one wasn't his. This time he was more than happy to escape his dreams, as they hadn't been nearly as pleasant.

They'd all been about burning cities and roasting wolves. He'd relived the deaths of the Starks over and over, each time trying to save them and failing worse with each attempt, Rickard Stark burned to death a thousand times, his son strangling himself just as many. With each death of the Starks Rhaegar died again, then Renfred, and finally Elia, all as Aelor watched and screamed and struggled in his mind, unable to stop any of it.

When he finally escaped the worst of the Seven Hells his body was covered in sweat and out of breath, c.h.e.s.t rising and falling rapidly.

"I see now why you don't sleep." Aelor furrowed his brow at the voice he was only vaguely familiar with, only then noticing the cool of the cloth being held against his forehead. He followed the hand holding it down a distinctly feminine arm, suddenly finding himself looking at Alysanne Lefford.

"What…what are you doing here?" His voice was rough even to his own ears and his throat pained him, as if he'd been shouting constantly for hours. Aelor realized he probably had been.

The heir to the Golden Tooth's lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners as she removed the cloth from his forehead to dip it in a bucket of water, wring it out, and return it—now cooler—back to his forehead. "I've been listening to you scream."

Aelor was finally starting to get his breath under control, the terrors he had just relived fleeing his mind. "Funny."

Alysanne shrugged. "No, it wasn't, but thank you anyway." She ran the rag down to his bared c.h.e.s.t, trying to cool the Dragon of Duskendale down. He was a Targaryen—heat didn't bother him near like it did most men—but the sensation was pleasant regardless. "A rider summoned me to come care for my father after your cavalry had an apparent run in with some pits and spikes. In truth I think it's another attempt to integrate me in your good graces, seeing as he's only got a few bruises that were mostly healed by the time I got here."

Aelor snorted, even as he felt his tired and sore body relax under the light touch of her hand with the cloth. "I told him if he forced you to do something like that again I'd kill him."

Her smile this time was broader. "He informed me of that, actually. I think he actually believed you were serious."

"That's because I was."

"Oh. Well, I thank you for the concern for my personal wishes." After wringing the cloth out again she returned it to his head. "I'll have to ask you to leave his head on his shoulders, if I may. My father may have unrivaled political ambition but he is a better lord than most. Besides, I'm here now on my own accord, not my father's insistence." When Aelor merely c.o.c.ked a brow, Alysanne looked away from the cloth to meet his violet eyes. It was only then he noticed that hers were a startlingly pretty dark brown. "You were screaming very loud, Your Grace. There was only so much your Dornishwoman companion could take, despite how tough she seems to be."

A rush of embarrassment coursed through the Prince and he g.r.o.a.n.e.d. "That's a good sign for the men, their commander screaming like child."

She returned the cloth to his c.h.e.s.t, alternating between it and his head periodically, eyes now firmly back on her work. "I know of no child who can scream like that, Prince Aelor, but you need not worry about your men. They have all gone to besiege Casterly Rock, while we are currently directly outside Lannisport." She paled briefly. "Or what used to be Lannisport, anyway."

Aelor looked into her eyes, willing her to meet his again, something she eventually did. "I warned you I was no saint."

Alysanne nodded, holding his gaze marvelously well. "You did. And I told you you were no demon either."

"Tell that to Lannisport."

Her tone was stubborn, nearly as stubborn as Aelor's own. "I will. I'll tell that to all the tens of thousands of innocents you evacuated when you could have burnt them to a crisp."

For the first time since he was a young boy Aelor Targaryen was forced to look away, turning his head to face the opposite direction. "Don't give me credit; I didn't do it out of the goodness of my own heart."

"No, you did it for Elia Martell." Aelor's head snapped back around, violet eyes wild. Alysanne was meeting them calmly, not an ounce of fear in her own. "You spoke in your sleep as well. Of King Rhaegar, some man named Ren, a Balman and a Brandon and a Talana. But most of all you spoke of Elia. A man doesn't feel that much pain over his brother's wife unless…"

Aelor looked away again, jaw set. His mind was clear, for the first time since King's Landing wholly and completely his, and it wasn't cutting him any slack. "I just destroyed a city full of men who were only following their liege lords orders, taking the homes from thousands of innocents in the process. I did it because I thought it would avenge the woman I love, but in truth it just harms her memory. Elia wouldn't have wanted this, any of it. I started to wipe out an entire family for a woman who would beg me to do the opposite if she was still alive."

"Do you regret it?"

He grunted. "No. It is war. They tried to wipe out House Targaryen, and they should-they will-suffer for it, even more than they already have. But I should never have done it in her name, using her death as an excuse to sate my d.e.s.i.r.e for blood."

Alysanne's small hand carefully reached over him to gently grasp his chin, silently telling him to turn his head back. He did so grudgingly, though he didn't meet her eyes once he had. "No, you shouldn't have. I don't think Queen Elia would have wanted this. I never met the woman, but from what I hear from your fierce Dornish friend she was truly lovely."

"She was."

Her hand hadn't moved, and she gently pulled at him again, urging him to look at her. "Look at me, Aelor." With a shaky, annoyed sigh he did. Alysanne was situated close to his side, face only a few inches away from his own. There was nothing but complete conviction in her voice as she spoke, willing the Prince not to look away. "You allowed thousands of people you hate because of their allegiance to walk away free because you knew it would be what she wanted. You left a child on the throne when you could have taken it for yourself without a soul to protest, not because you don't have ambition, not because it's best for the realm because in truth it probably isn't, but because you love that child like he's yours even though he isn't."

Aelor cut her off. "How do you know that?"

Alysanne glared at him for the interruption, voice coming out impatient at his denseness. "Because King Aegon isn't dead yet, because you talked about him and Rhaenys constantly that night at the Tooth, and because I'm not buggering stupid."

The Dragon of Duskendale couldn't help but smile just a touch, despite all that had happened. "Fair enough."

Alysanne Lefford went on, still glaring. "As I was trying to say, you have honored Elia Martell more than you know. You were there for her in life, when you smuggled her and her children out of the city, and you have been there for her even since her death, protecting those children and trying to set up a Kingdom where they can prosper and grow." She gestured over her shoulder, to what Aelor could only assume was Lannisport on the other side of the tent although he had no bloody clue just where he was, as this wasn't his tent and he assumed they'd moved him far away from the siege lines so the men wouldn't hear his turmoil. "What happened out there is part of that, as I daresay it will be decades before anyone is foolish enough to rebel against the Targaryen's again. All you've done you have done for her children, and that honors her more than anything else you could have done."

Aelor stared at the young woman as she glared at him a moment longer before returning to her work with the cloth, soaking, wringing and stroking. "You know," he said slowly, after a long moment. "You are a very opinionated woman."

"You're not the first man to say that."

"And you have precisely zero fear, even of a man who just destroyed a city."

Alysanne snorted, glaring at him for another moment. "You're damn right I don't, and you'd best remember it before you play this 'I'm a terrible person' folly on me again because I'll slap you. It gets old, Prince Aelor, and quickly."

Aelor chuckled lightly, though his mind was focused on what she had said earlier. Elia was gone, and all the blood of all the Lannister's wouldn't bring her back. He didn't regret his orders concerning Lannisport, as it would stand as a beacon to the rest of Westeros that the Targaryen's didn't need dragons to utterly destroy you, but the wanton slaughter he had been so intent on was folly. Tywin must die, of that there was no contest, but most of his family was as innocent of her death as Aelor was. Elia wouldn't have wanted their slaughter, and while he may never be able to hold her in his arms as he so desperately wanted to, he could still honor her beliefs.

Aerys would've wanted their deaths, it was true, but Aelor decided then and there that he was not the Mad King.

Nothing could change the past, of that he was aware. The Starks had died, curtesy of his father and Aelor's own inaction, and trying to save them in his dreams would never change that. Thousands had died because of it, many just that morning, assuming he hadn't been unconscious for days though Aelor didn't have a single clue how long he'd been here. Rhaegar had played a major hand in it, as had Lyanna Stark, but it was Aerys who had truly sparked all of this, all the death and destruction his insanity had brought about. If Aelor was to honor Elia, if he was to protect her children, he couldn't become his father, as he very nearly had; as he had so desperately wanted to be, if only so his vengeance and hatred could be sated in fire and blood.

Aelor waited for the other, darker part of him—the Aerys part—to reassert itself, to tell him that he must kill everyone of Lannister blood to have his vengeance, but it never came. It had vanished as the Starks had from the flames of Lannisport.

And Aelor Targaryen was free.