Chapter Text
(SPOILERS FOR MID/END OF THE DANCE OF DRAGONS!!)
It happened right after he and Daemon killed one another at God's eye. Daemon; His uncle. His Idol. His Enemy. His Hero. His Villain. Daemon leapt from his seat on top of his dragon, fell, and stabbed him with Darksister through his good eye. Aemond knew he was dying, so he took him down with him. Both of them and their dragons fell into the water.
Fire can't kill a dragon, but water can still drown them.
That was when it happened. There was a fading ache where Dark Sister was driven through, and the world around him felt... Strange. otherworldly. Silent, lacking wind or air. No water or earth. Only fire. Standing alone in the middle of the stone-like room, Aemond couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. Measured. Judged.
"Do you realize what you've done?!" He heard a sharp, angry male voice bark.
"Breath and be calm... The Zaldritsos just got here." A strong, Queenly voice said right after. Aemond didn't know how he felt being called ‘Little Dragon.’
"Do you realize what you've done?" A softer female voice sounded. Almost seductive.
"... I fought for my Brother and my house."
"Do you realize the extent of the damage you caused with this dance? The far-reaching consequences? For our house? For the Realm? THE WORLD?"
"What?.... No..."
It was then events of the future flashed before him. Events that he didn't get to see because his life ended before they occurred.
The death of his sister, who tossed herself from a window.
His half-sister took King's Landing as the Lannister's and his brother took off with the Crown's gold.
The Storming of the Dragon pit. The slaughtering of eggs, hatchlings and dragons. Dreamfyre as she tosses her body into the glass dome in order to break it. Sacrificing herself free whatever hatchlings remained alive. Little Joffrey falling. The death of Syrax.
His brother as he ordered his sister to be stabbed in the chest and eaten by her dragon as her last son screamed for her.
The dragons. Getting smaller and smaller, then dying out. A fat, worthless king selling dark sister and giving Blackfyre to his bastard. His fat face smiling as his younger, more worthy brother dies saving him from an assassin. Legitimizing all his bastards to spite his sister-wife on his deathbed.
A beautiful girl with a mane of blonde curls, marrying a prince. Common born, but Impressive and talented. Winning over her husband's family and being loved by all of them. The prince, madly in love with her. Ready to give his crown for her or talk his family into letting her be his queen. A huge family dinner at a place called Summerhall.
Then the same Summerhall now engulfed an inferno. The whole family, burning in the hall with the middle sister-in-law giving birth to a silver-haired boy far too early even as the flames burned less than 40 feet from her. Burning the Crown Prince and King. The same girl with a mane of blonde curls, dancing in the ruins of the blackened Hall. No crown on her head, instead losing her mind to grief. Returning and dancing the next day. And the next day. and the day after. Over and over, dancing where her prince and his family fell.
Jenny, something told his mind. That woman now spinning around and around with no one. Jenny of the Old Stones.
The Middle brother claiming his crown, naming his newborn the crown prince.
Madness and Fire. "Burn them all!" Rebellion. Three last dragons. One last Targaryen.
Then ice and death. A dark night with wave after wave of a horrifying dead army. A man seemingly made of only blue ice and evil.
His father's dagger. The Red Keep burning. The last dragon, a Queen. Betrayed and stabbed. A melted iron throne.
He didn't know how long he'd been screaming, and how many times he said he didn't mean this. How many he yelled ‘NO’ at every wrong done to his family in the future.
"He honestly didn't mean to..." Said the softer female voice.
"And he regrets it." Said a new, Crisp male voice. Clear as a bell.
"We saw his life and how he was raised already... We know why." Said the Queenly voice.
"THAT'S DOESN'T EXCUSE HIS ACTIONS!" The angry male voice yells.
"Do remember those words are coming out of YOUR mouth, dear son." The queenly voice bit back. "And you have VERY little room to speak."
Son? Aemond's brain whirled.
"It... it was also my fault." another, older voice called. This one Aemond knew. This one Aemond knew all too well.
"Father?" Aemond called.
"I'm sorry... For trusting Otto. For letting you and your brother grow up... With... Without me." The voice caught itself, and Aemond's throat caught as well.
"...And for that slip of the Tongue under the milk of the poppy at the end of my life."
"Slip.." Aemond's now two eyes widened. "You never said you wanted Aegon to be king... Did you?"
"No... I didn't, my boy. Alicent heard what she wanted. What she thought I wanted."
The weight of those words crashed into him, and he realized again, for the second time in that many minutes, how it was NOT worth it. The price the house of the dragon paid was far too much by half. The voices had started murmuring and talking amongst themselves. Aemond lowered his head and was silent. He was proud of his house. He wanted nothing more than to bring honor to it. Prove himself worthy. Strong. A true dragon...
It nearly killed his heart and soul over and over that his father, His uncle, and half-sister never saw him. Not as himself or what he had achieved. A little Recognition. An Acknowledgement. That would have been enough.
"Answer me this, Little Dragon..." The clear male voice asked, grabbing his full attention.
"If you had to do it all over again... Would you do the same things?"
"... No..." Aemond answered truthfully. Silence was all that met with his answer.
"You would right the wrongs you did? In Truth?" A third, weaker male voice asked.
"Yes. Without hesitation."
The queenly voice gave a proud laugh. "Send him back."
"MOTHER!"
"Silence, Son. Let's send him back. Return him to before the lines were drawn. Let's give him a chance and see if he can fix it."
"Very well..." The clear male voice.
"Yes..." The weak male voice.
"Do it." The seductive female voice.
"I Agree." His Father.
"We'll give you a chance, Little dragon. Do better this time. And stop this madness from happening." The Queenly voice said. After she spoke, the large fire in front of him moved and split into 14 different flames. It then moved into formation as a perfect circle formed around him. They began slowly starting to spin. Then moved faster and faster, then faster still. Until they were just streaks of light, Then a feeling of himself floating came over him.. Then flying.
Then he was dropped... Jolted back into his body on the king's ship the day they docked at Driftmark.