GOT : All Left Behind

It was amazing how much discomfort you could ignore when panic had a strong enough grip on your heart. Arms that could barely lift a flagon could suddenly shift a horse's body. Lungs that previously strained to fill suddenly ceased to ache and drove you further than previously thought possible. Legs that would fold after even the slightest drop could suddenly carry you through an entire palace at a brisk jog.

While dressed in full plate.

Nobody tried to stop me, but that was to be expected. I had all but abandoned my disguise when I reached the guards at the stables, casting aside my helmet for the sake of visibility, and the entire court knew me. I was a prince of the blood, after all.

Thus, I swiftly made my way through the abomination that some people might refer to as a keep. 

Though the memories of my past life were already quite faded, I could quite vividly remember imperial palaces that were smaller than the Red Keep. Still, it was a testament to the human spirit that my fatigued legs were able to carry me through the keep, past countless chambers and apartments, over the drawbridge, and past the spike-filled moat that a certain madman who fancied himself king thought was a good idea, and into Maegor's Holdfast.

The fact that the smaller sub-castle within the Red Keep was still larger than the castles of many a lord was a constant reminder of westerosi madness. But that was an issue for another day. For now, I had to focus on the problem at hand: making sure nothing had gone catastrophically wrong in my brief absence from court.

Maintaining my pace, I gave the briefest of nods to the Kingsguard guarding the only entrance to the holdfast, being mindful of my step to avoid slipping and falling on the spikes. Because of course there had to be sharp iron spikes surrounding the one path most commonly used by the royal children. Personally, I would have removed the spikes in favor of a dragon, but apparently that was dangerously sane.

Or perhaps removing all those spikes was too expensive for a kingdom currently building a road network.

No, Vaegon, focus on the now.

The now which had the servants acting with a lot more fervor and energy than usual. Some carried flagons, not all of which were full, judging by the difficulty with which some of them were moving, others carried clean cloth, far nicer than what was usually used for cleaning. A few carried firewood, while some, hurrying the opposite direction, carried naught.

My gut was telling me something was afoot. My mind was telling me I had seen this before. Some three or four years ago, if memory served, followed by a few months of joy. And followed in turn in yet more months of despair.

Somebody was going into labor.

The children were no doubt being attended by no shortage of nannies and servants to distract them. Anything to keep them away from the mother-to-be. But who was it, I wondered? My sister Alyssa or my mother? The former was no reason for concern, beyond her relative youth, but she was robust enough that it should not matter. The latter… the latter would mean the Grand Maester would need to be 'encouraged' to not repeat the mistakes of my mother's previous pregnancy.

Naturally, I followed the servants carrying the supplies. Just to see where they were going; I had no desire to walk in on childbirth. Regardless of my motives, they did not stop me. I was a prince, after all, but more than a few seemed like they had thoughts they wished to share. But once they noticed my gaze, they turned their eyes back to the ground.

They were all hurriedly making their way down one of the narrow halls of the holdfast, and I recognized the route. It led to one of the smaller apartments with its own hearth, to better conserve heat, chosen by Alyssa for her impending labor. The door was tightly shut, two of father's white knights beside it, with muted chattering slowly spilling out. No screaming, though. That was good. That meant that the worst had passed. It also meant there was no reason to keep me out.

But the servants carried on past the door.

That was odd. But while I was here, I might as well stop by. The inhabitants were awake, after all, if I were to judge.

The Kingsguards did a double-take when they saw me but did not try to stop me. Judging from their builds, I had to guess they were Sers Crabb and Shaw. The former I knew from his freakish size, the latter by process of elimination. They in turn knew me and helpfully opened the door as I approached.

Within, the blazing fire in the hearth had raised the temperature of the room enough to immediately bring a sheen of sweat to my forehead. Alyssa was on the bed, cradling a small cloth-swaddled bundle, her mismatched eyes focused on it with unmistakable love. Directly next to her was Baelon, whose face was split by a broad grin, while Grand Maester Elysar was flipping through the pages of a book.

The healer being forced to look up information was hardly a reassuring sight, so I chose to ignore him in favor of two of my favorite siblings.

"My apologies," I said by way of introductions, gently closing the door behind me. "Being a mystery knight took longer than expected. Did I miss anything important?"

"Vaeg!" Baelon all but shouted, face still dominated by his smile, but an angry nudge from our sister cut him off from continuing.

"Quiet!" She hissed, pulling the swaddled bundle closer to her. "You'll wake him."

"Sorry…" The proud smile gave way to a bashful grin I had not seen in a while as Baelon lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm a father, Vaeg! Me! I have a son!"

"You sound like you were the one to give birth to him," Alyssa slyly remarked, brushing a sweat-soaked strand of dirty-blonde hair out of her eyes. "Although personally, I don't know what Jocelyn was complaining about."

"Some births are easier than others, even with the same mother," Elysar opined from across the room, sounding bored. "Look to your namesake, Your Grace. Five easy births followed by three that were difficult. The last of which was Jocelyn. And killed the queen dowager."

He looked as though he were about to elaborate when the door slammed open, revealing a panting serving girl.

"Grand Maester! The queen, she's… it's… the babe…" She did not even manage to complete her message before the man in question slammed his book shut.

"Will be attended to by me." His tone brooked no argument. "Your graces, if you would be so kind as to stay here and wait, I cannot afford to be interrupted."

Without another word, the Grand Maester stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Have you decided on a name?" I decided to distract myself from my mother going into labor just a few doors down. The birth was going to be dangerous for her, even with the most competent maester. A qualification which Elysar's most certainly did not possess.

"Viserys." Baelon announced proudly. "Viserys Targaryen."

"I'm still surprised he didn't name him after our eldest brother," Alyssa admitted. "Or you, for that matter."

"Mayhaps our brother is a man of good taste?" I asked after a moment's contemplation. I was lacking an acceptable witticism for this situation, sad to say. For now, I would be happy that he did not call the babe Aegon.

"Or mayhaps he did not want to decide between naming him Aemon, Vaegon, or Jaehaerys." Alyssa offered her poor husband the napping bundle that was their son. He accepted eagerly, holding the babe as though he were fine pottery that might shatter at the slightest pressure. It was quite the amusing image, the well-built warrior prince holding the fragile infant.

"Equally likely," I admitted with a slow nod of the head. How very much like my brother to find a fourth option where three existed.

"Or mayhaps I wanted a name father would not object to?" Baelon asked, not bothering to raise his smiling eyes from the newest addition to our family. "A name worthy of house Targaryen?"

"Brother!" The heavy oak door slammed open, sending the newborn into a fit of surprisingly powerful screaming that made me wince. Joy of joys, he was going to be such fun to have around in the coming months, I just knew. "Get Vhagar, a dragon's been spotted in the city!"

Aemon Targaryen stood in the door, clad in riding leathers that had clearly been put on in a hurry, and huffing as though he had sprinted here. His gaze swept across the room, past our glaring sister, past our brother futilely trying to calm the babe, before settling on me.

"Vaegon? Back from your little escapade, I see." My oldest brother said, gesturing towards my armor. Good to know that he cared. "Mother had a conniption once she got word of your absence. Follow Ser Crabb to the others, lest you give her another."

"I'm perfectly content where I am now." I crossed my arms defiantly but keeping my tone light. "She is too busy with other matters to worry about my whereabouts for the moment. Besides, have you met your nephew yet? He's adorable!"

"Vaegon, there is a wild dragon larger than Vermithor in the city." Aemon said, his voice unnervingly calm despite the white-knuckled grip he kept on his whip. "I will need every dragon rider I can get if we want our father to have a city to return to. Baelon and I cannot in good conscience ride out to drive it out of the city if we have to worry about your wanderlust."

"Then stop worrying."

Maybe I should have told him about my newest… ally. Or my entire plan for the Cannibal, really. That probably would have avoided this whole confrontation. But he would have told father and obstructed me. All 'for my own good'.

"The beast could reduce the city to a pile of ash within the hour if we are not careful." Aemon maintained his icily calm tone. "We need to drive it away from the city. I cannot do so with just Caraxes, so I need Baelon. You are a child, and I cannot trust you to keep a woman fresh out of childbirth safe, or even yourself for that matter."

"Oi, I hardly need to be kept safe!" Alyssa rapidly sat up, incensed at the implication. "I'll be back on Meleys before the week is out, you mark my words!"

Oh boy, this looked like an argument that was about to get out of hand. Best to resolve it before tempers flared too much.

"Is it a black dragon?" I asked, deciding to just tackle the matter straight-on. Subtlety had its uses, but sometimes the direct approach was necessary. "Roosted at the hill of Visenya? Because that's where I left the Cannibal."

"The Ca- HAVE YOU GONE MAD." Finally, Aemon dropped that annoyingly calm tone of voice. Unfortunately, his sudden outburst of anger was directed at me. The man a decade my elder yanked me closer by my armor before pushing me towards the wall. "It picks hatcheries clean! By the Seven, why would you even try to claim it?"

"I needed a dragon," I said simply. "Since father won't let us near Balerion without written and sealed permission, I had to settle more the next most impressive dragon."

"Hah!" Alyssa interrupted the argument with a hearty laugh. "I told you he would do something bold!"

"Taming the Cannibal was madness, not boldness!" Aemon argued. "Dreamfyre was available! She is near as large and famously even-tempered! Instead, Maegelle claimed her to chase after you!"

"And now your little island is free to produce more hatchlings for a few years," I hissed back. If he wanted to back me into a corner, then he would learn the truth about a saying concerning a cornered rat. "Since you were unwilling to take care of your own holdings, someone had to do it. You're welcome, by the way."

"Enough!" Baelon interrupted, interrupting the anger simmering in my chest. Gods, I was acting like a child again. The child that I, by almost every conceivable metric, still was. "Cease your arguing! The crisis has been resolved, so just appreciate your nephew and congratulate your sister."

He made a fair point.

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