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Chapter Text

Aerys Targaryen knew madness, he had lived with it being a physical presence in his mind. He knew how madness felt, as if a thick layer of fog was clouding his brain and it took so much effort to string together a coherent thought. Dark shadows swam across the edge of his vision but were never there when he turned to look, how it seemed that everyone was after his life, as if the whole world had turned against him, no one could be trusted for how could he trust another when his own mind constantly conspired against him?
No, he cannot trust anyone, the only thing he could trust was fire, for fire did not betray, it burned whoever he demanded. Burning people was the only thing that made him feel alive, the smell of burnt flesh proof of the fact that he was in control. There was a deliciously dark velvety Voice in his head , whispering to him in the night when he was alone that no one can harm him if he burned them first, that he should just burn the whole world, burn them all, let the entire world end in fire and blood, as a tribute to his dead family, as per his House's words. If they wanted to destroy him, he would take them down together.

He tried actually, he tried so hard to keep the madness at bay, to keep it hidden away in the darkest depth of his mind, wrapped in chains and shackles. Everyday he fought a constant battle inside his head, warred against the worst of his thoughts, everyday that he did not burn the Red Keep down with wildfire was a victory against madness. But no one knew about his battles, did they? No one knew how hard he was fighting, how much effort he was giving in order to not kill them, they should be thankful, really, they should all kneel down and worship their king for his efforts, how he was warring with the Voice in his head to keep them alive. It would have been so easy, so easy to simply give in and light a keg of wildfire and everything would stop, the shadows, the dark whispers, his struggles, everything. But no, he would not give up, he was a dragon and dragons did not admit defeat, not even to their own minds.
But he was so damn tired, tired of fighting a war within himself, the Voice becoming stronger and stronger with each passing day, moon and year. And then, Duskendale happened.

It was during Duskendale that he and the madness became one, the Voice becoming firmer instead of a whisper floating in wind. The torture was gruesome, yes, but it was the humiliation that burned more than the pain. He was kept on his knees and made to beg, he had to crawl like a dog on all fours and lick the food of the floor if he didn't want to starve to death, he tried that once, starving to death, but it turned out that hunger burns more than humiliation. He was a weakling who didn't even have the strength and willpower to kill himself.He was not allowed to wear clothes, a dragon didn't need clothes, a guard mocked once. He was not allowed sleep for long periods of time, whenever his eyes would close they would poke him with a spear from outside the 12 by 8 inch cage he was kept in. Sometimes he was lead out, blindfolded and not allowed to see, they let him fumble around in the dark, attacking him randomly, his uncertainty of where the next blow would come from seemed to amuse their mistress, Serala the Lace Serpent, as she was known. Those humiliations were her idea, he could tell, it was her deep sultry voice that chuckled when the men performed another new trick on him to please their lady.
In those dark days, amongst pain and humiliation, it was so tempting to take refugee within the madness, to let the Voice whisper sweet promises of revenge to him, how their flesh would burn and how marvelous their screams would sound, how fire and blood will be brought to the Darklyns and Bollard and Serala, these thoughts were the only salvation he had during those six moons. And he did that, brought fire and blood to his tormentors, sent them to their deaths, but the last dregs of his sanity also died within Duskendale, only the madness remained.

Sometimes, he resented Ser Barristan for saving him. Sometimes, he hated himself for surviving in the first place.

After Duskendale, the Voice became more prominent, the shadows more frequent in his vision. The burnings became more common, he relished in the fear people displayed, the smell of burning flesh and the dying screams of victims were the only things to keep the Voice inside his head quite, to keep the shadows away, he finally felt normal then, at least for a while, he was always in a good mood after a burning incident, until the Voice was heard again, madness once again itched at his skin and he felt like he could burst. He wanted to claw away at his skin, to shed this body and turn into a dragon like the sigil of his House and fly away.
This had him once again in search of a candidate for burning, to stop Aerys from clawing his own eyes out as everything became too much, the shadows, the Voice, the itching. He tried to convince himself, that they were guilty, that they deserved this, that it was an honour for their insignificant life to end in fire and blood, in service to their king. But one day, when in the grasp of madness he ordered the burning of a 6 year old girl, for the crime of colliding with the queen, when he forced his sister-wife to watch justice being served on her name by her husband and King, something inside Aerys had shriveled and died, as he watched Rhaella sob. Of course, Aerys dealt with his despair the only way he knew, by hurting others, by making them feel as wretched as he felt, so he raged at Rhaella for hours, striking her for the first time in all the years of their marriage. It was the last time Aerys has seen Rhaella cry.

Then the rebellion happened, he lost battle after battle and each battle lost he went deeper and deeper in the clutch of madness. Then he lost his son, his firstborn, who had once been his pride and joy, who was dead with his chest caved in by the hand of Steffon's son, Aunt Rhae's grandson. Aerys knew that day that he was going to die and if he was dying he will take down everyone else with him too. His advisors, those who were left, talked about sending Rhaella and Viserys to Dragonstone, he didn't object. No one bothered about Elia or his two grandchildren, he didn't care. He filled jar after jar of wildfire below the keep, the sept and city, as much as he could. His son is dead and now Aerys wanted to burn the whole city as a tribute to his son. By then, shadows clouded his whole vision instead of hovering at the edge and the Voice spoke through his tongue instead of speaking in his mind. He didn't fight the madness as it took over, he had no reason to fight anymore.
When the Lannister forces came, Aerys knew the end was near, he knew Tywin, his old friend turned enemy, that ruthless bastard is not here to help, he is here to take revenge for every slight he and his lady wife had suffered from Aerys. But what did it matter anymore, if he was dying, he will also take Tywin to the afterlife with him, Steffon was already there, waiting for them, yes, the three of them will finally be reunited at last. So he order the gates to be opened. He had already given the order to light the wildfire as soon as Lord Tywin is seen to enter the city to Rossart and his team of pyromancers. Now he was alone in the throne room, pacing as he whole world to burn and.. No he wasn't alone was he? There was the Lannister Kingsguard, what was his name, ah Jaime, Aerys had to admit he had felt immense pleasure while naming the boy into the Kingsguard, after all, why could Tywin's boy remain with his father when Aerys's eldest spurned his very existence while his youngest recoiled in fear and disgust from him? No, he would take Tywin's heir from him like his own has been taken away from him. The boy was standing at the door of the throne room, he was the only remaining Kingsguard in the capital.
"Ser Jaime" Aerys called to him on a whim.
The boy turned, and the sight hit Aerys like a punch to the gut. Aerys didn't remember if he had ever looked at Jaime Lannister before today. He had seen him at the tourney of Harrenhal, had known he was in the Kingsguard but he had never really looked at him.
For the boy looked like a younger version of Tywin, all stone faced and rigid but if you know them well you could tell the signs of tension on his face, a grinding of teeth, a slight purse of lips, a crinkle at the corner of the eye, visible signs of tension Tywin had on his face after his father had once again did something foolish to undermine the Lannister name or when Aerys hadn't slept for 3 days straight because whenever he closed his eyes he only saw raging flames and heard his family's screams.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
Aerys blinked and returned to the present, it was not Tywin, but his son. Tywin was currently sacking Kings Landing, supporting the rebels, betraying him. Aerys squinted and tried to find dissimilarities between Jaime and his father. Well, the hair is longer, the cheekbones less prominent, the eyes, oh, at this point, Aerys nearly closed his own eyes, for the boy had Joanna's forest green eyes instead of Tywin's sea green ones.
Memories came to his mind unbidden, Joanna, sending him calming tea to help with his sleep after Summerhall, berating him after he had once again dishonoured her friend by drunkenly sleeping with a maid and then patiently patted his back when he cried on her shoulder, Joanna, who was the only person outside his family to show kindness to him, who had offered him friendship but Aerys had taken her goodwill and stomped on it with all the might of a dragon when he had insulted her on her wedding day.
It was as it should be, the Voice roared inside his head, the Lannister chit was nothing but a upward reaching social climber, her kindness was only a ploy, an attempt to lower his guards so that she could stab him in the back, just like her husband has done now.
No, another voice sounded in his head, for the first time in years, sounding distinctively like the Rhaella from before, before the burnings, before the madness, before the light in her eyes went out. There was fire in that voice, just like the time when she had yelled at him for disrespecting Joanna and decisively sent her back to the Rock, not listening to his orders, like a dragon protecting her own. 'No, you fool. You very well know Joanna simply wanted to help you, help us. So did Tywin, so did Steffon, but you didn't let them, you pushed them all away until it was only you and your madness.' the Rhaella in his head roared.
Aerys's breath hitched, it was only a moment, but it felt like an eternity, it seemed that all the parts left unharmed by the madness were waiting for this very moment, to launch a final attack, in that one moment, a fierce battle occurred, a siege was laid and a victory was won, the madness receded, with Aerys gaining control for the first time in years.

Aerys sneered, the fire in his eyes burning brightly.

" Listen to me, Ser Jaime, I have an order for you." He rasped.

Aerys stood before the Iron Throne, staring at the monstrosity. For the first time in a long while his mind was quiet and he could finally think. So Aerys thought of Rhaella, of the Rhaella before and after his madness, he thought of the slowly fading smiles until it has completely gone from her face, he thought of her bright eyes that sparked with joy whenever she sang, Rhaella had stopped singing a long time ago, not even singing the Mother's hymns. He thought back to her dead eyes when he said farewell to her at the docks, there was no tension, no worry in them for his future, or for her and their son's future, nor there was relief to be finally away from her abusive shit of a husband, because that's what he was, her eyes had nothing in them, they were a pool of stale water, stagnant, dead. He thought back to the bruises he left on her skin, the scratches and bites he inflicted on her, Rhaella had stopped crying out in pain once she realised her cries only increased his abuse of her. Near the end, she had been silent, like a puppet with strings, only doing what was expected of her. His sister had long died and only an empty shell remained in her place.

He thought of Rhaeger, the boy who dived into books to escape reality, the boy whom he had failed, his son who had died before him. He thought of his stillborn daughters, Shaena and Naerys, of his sons who died in infancy, Daeron, Aegon and Jaehaerys. The thought about Rhaella suffering miscarriage after miscarriage, he remembered thinking then, maybe the Gods didn't think him worthy of any more children after how he fucked up with his firstborn, but then Viserys came. His sweet boy, who had brought him hope, for whom he had prayed to all and every gods he knew, to save his life. And by some miracle, they had listened and his boy had thrived. But after Duskendale, his condition had worsened and everyone around him suffered for it. Aerys knew Rhaella had done her best to shield the boy from his worst behaviours, but still, at the end,  his boy had recoiled from him with fear and it was Rhaella who suffered for it.
Aerys heard footsteps coming to the throne room and made up his mind, he had tortured the poor boy enough, he will not make it harder for him than it is.
Aerys made his way up the stairs of the Iron Throne, he sat on the iron monstrosity created by his ancestor, Aegon the conqueror, the throne where his father sat, his grandfather sat. He took out the valyrian steel dagger, passed from King to Heir, generation after generation. He flipped the dagger in his hand and pressed the sharp blade into his heart. The last thing he saw was Jaime Lannister staring with Tywin's worried face and Joanna's kind eyes. Aerys's last thought was, if there was an afterlife, may he burn in eternal hell for he surely deserved it.

Fresh blood flowed down the Iron Throne, creating a bloody track which was being absorbed by the throne, the throne and the dagger glowed golden for a brief moment, invisible obscure runes, etched into the valyrian steel with sharp dragonbone as a failsafe by Queen Visenya, coming to life and flaring bright red.  Far away in the dwelling of Beings of Power, a Goddess received the sacrifice of life force and heart blood of a King of Valyrian descent and smiled. A volcano from the Fourteen Flames erupted for the first time since Aegon's Conquest. If anyone from the Valyrian Freehold were present at the sight then they would have recognised the volcano as Shrykos.

Chapter Text

Aerys Targaryen jerked awake amongst sweaty sheets, stinking of ale, he bolted upright in bed, his breathing heavy, eyes wide looking around erratically.

To be honest, Aerys was almost completely certain he will find himself at his own dedicated space in hell after his death. His actions definitely warranted as such.

Instead he found himself having some vivid and disturbing visions. Now thinking about it though, those visions were probably a special kind of hell too.

He saw his gooddaughter being raped and murdered, his granddaughter stabbed countless times and his grandson's head being smashed in a wall.

He saw his wife die, giving birth to a daughter, by the Gods, a daughter, he hadn't even known she was pregnant, he didn't even remember if news from Dragonstone had come and he had forgotten due to his muddled brain or if Rhaella didn't inform if of her pregnancy, not that he would blame her if she didn't, he surely deserved it.

He saw his sister-wife crown little Viserys with their grandfather's crown in her dying breath and wanted to scream, 'no Rhaella,' he wanted to say, 'don't do this, don't place such a heavy burden on the shoulders of a 6 namedays old child, send him, them to Lys, where they would blend with the crowd, let them just be two children of Valyrian origin, let them forget their origin.' But he could not utter a single word, it was as if the muscles of his throat had stopped obeying him. Aerys smiled bitterly, it was fair, he supposed, that he didn't get to voice his opinions, he didn't raise his children, he didn't protect them, hell, it was his sins that landed them in this peril, so he didn't have any right to speak, he could only watch and despair.

And despair he did.

He watched as his children fled his family's ancestral home in the middle of the night, aided by loyal men. He breathed a sigh of relief when they settled in a house with a red door in Braavos with Ser Jonothor Darry.

The visions kept jumping from one place to another, from one time to another.

He saw that Stark girl giving birth to Rhaeger's only living son, he watched on as he grew up as a bastard in Winterfell, there was love ,yes, but also neglect and derision, but he didn't even have it in him to be angry. After all, Eddard Stark has managed to do what he couldn't, to let his grandson grow up safe and sound, without any risk of assassination from the crown.

Assassins, which shadowed the steps of his children, after they have ran away from Braavos following Ser Jonothor's death.

He kept watching, as his son tried his best to keep his daughter safe, fed and clothed, as how he himself became gaunt. He watched as Viserys also followed his footsteps and slowly lost his sanity, finally losing it completely when he sold the crown, Viserys had always been fond of his mother and to lose the last remaining heirloom of his mother, it broke his sweet boy.

He watched as his daughter suffered her brother's temper, how she became timid and quiet.

He wanted to rage and curse and destroy when his daughter, his precious daughter who was still a child being sold to a savage beast of a man by his own brother. He felt pride when he saw her adapt and survive.

He screamed and screamed when his son was killed by a crown of molten gold, by his sister's husband after holding a sword to his sister's belly, swelled up with child. Though no sound came but blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Another son he had failed, another child who had suffered because of him.

Then his daughter lost her child, he closed his eyes in pain, remembering Rhaella's miscarriages and stillbirths, and lost her husband too. Why? Why must my children suffer through such pain? He cried at the Gods or whatever beings were showing him these visions. It is because of my sins? Are they suffering because of me? Why? How is that fair? I'm ready to pay the price for my mistakes, please please, spare them! His voice still failed him and no response came.

Then his daughter hatched three dragons, not one or two but three. Well, a dragon must have three heads, Aerys thought hysterically, laughing and crying at the same time. Oh, if only his grandfather could see Dany now.

The visions became faster then, his daughter going through various life threatening experiences again and again. She freed slaves, gained an army, became a queen. Aerys could say that he was immensely proud, proud of what her daughter has endured and survived, despite everything how she had thrived. And then she wanted to return to Westeros. Aerys wanted to curse again. No, Dany, he wanted to scream, do not go to return to that vile, awful and unpleasant place. Westeros is rotten to the core. If you want to change it, it will destroy you too, just like it destroyed my grandfather. Lesson learned from previous experiences, he did not scream, but silently braced himself for more sorrow.

He was glad when his daughter and grandchild met, a Targaryen alone is terrible thing, his grandfather used to say.

He was worried when his daughter burned Lord Tarly alive, something was not right, Dany did not seem well.

Then Dany lost a dragon, the one named after his youngest son, Viserion. He felt distressed, he could see that she treated those dragons as her children.

On the other hand, What The Hell?Dead ice monsters are real??? And they have a army and they are coming for the seven kingdoms and if they succeed and all life, not only just human, All Life in the Planetos will be lost!

Aerys's mind was racing. Was this the reason that the Fourteen Flames ensured the survival of House Targaryen and Aegon planned his conquest? There had been rumors that Queen Rhaenys had been a dreamer, though no specific proof had been found either approving or disapproving the claim. Did Rhaenys dreamed about this? Was this the prophecy spoken by Jenny's woodwitch? The reason Aerys and Rhaella had been forced to wed? For which his eldest ran off with a Stark girl leaving his wife and children behind? What did he call it- the song of Ice and Fire. Thousand thoughts and questions formed within Aerys's mind, but no one answered his queries.

He was most definitely not glad when his daughter and nephew engaged in illicit lovemaking, and why in the name of everything that's good and holy he was being shown this? He bemoaned his fate to whoever was listening.

The war was shown in a frenzy, but still, the glimpses Aerys got was enough to shake him to the core, Aerys has seen the War of the Ninepenny Kings, which was a child's play compared to this. The army of the dead stretched for miles ahead and the only reason they won was his grandson and his cousin -Lady Arya- managed to kill the leader by sheer dumb luck.

Aerys shook his head unbelievingly.

He thought this was it, but no, there was still a tragedy waiting to happen.

His daughter, as if she already hadn't suffered enough, lost her another dragon, the one ridden by his grandson, named after Rhaeger. Then she lost her oldest and truest friend, her head severed from her body by Cersei Lannister, Tywin's girl, who was the reigning queen, the Baratheons and Tywin no where to be seen. He didn't know what happened to them, didn't think he even wanted to know.

He saw his daughter's eyes when the girl's - Missandei- head touched the ground and knew that Dany was gone too, lost to her grief and anguish. Her soul was already dead, it was only a matter of time before her body followed. What followed after was a carnage. His daughter rained fire and blood upon innocent people and sinners alike, too lost in her grief, madness clouding her vision. Women, children, elderly burned alive in their homes, in the street, some who managed to escape fire died by falling debris or by choking on smoke. Aerys watched and remembered green flames licking at people's skin, the smell of burnt flesh and terrified screams. He watched and cried, mourning the little girl his daughter had been, who shared her meal with a injured slave risking his brother's wrath, the girl who believed in songs and knights, in goodness and justice regardless of her own sufferings, the girl who freed slaves, the girl who was called Mysha by people of every age, gender and race.

He did not feel surprised when his grandson, Aemon, his mother named him Aemon, thrusted a dagger, the same Valyrian steel dagger with which Aerys had ended his own life, into his daughter's heart. He also did not feel surprised when, after being exiled and reaching far North, Aemon pushed the same dagger into his heart too. The vision slowly faded as his grandson, the last remaining member of his House, bled out in front of a weirwood tree beyond the wall.

Aerys did not know what to feel, he had seen the army that had fought for the living against the army of dead, it was a pitiful number, the bulk of which was made up by his daughter's Dothrakis, amongst the seven kingdoms, only the people of North, Vale were present. Even so, the army of North was numbered less than 10000, that was for the fight for their life, when during the rebellion the North mustered around 25000 people. Aerys dared to say, the Northern armies would be even more bigger than the gathered host at Winterfell if they were still 7 independent kindgdoms, there were records of the North having around 200,000 people during the peak reign of Kings of Winter. What was the purpose of uniting the seven kingdoms of only two of them and a host made of foreigners fought in the War? But then again, it was Aemon, who killed the Night King, who had indeed came from Aerys and Rhaella's line, so the prophecy Jenny's woodwitch sprouted was at least somewhat true.

Also, he could not help but notice, amongst all other noble houses it was only the Targaryens that went extinct, and the Baratheons, who were a cadet branch of a Targaryen bastard, only had a bastard son left. Aerys felt that it was too coincidencial, almost as if someone was controlling the scenes from behind.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind another vision started. This time Aerys was transported a medium sized room with high ceilings, the walls of the room had bookshelves against them, filled with books on various subjects, at the middle of the room there was a round table, with five men dressed as maesters sitting around it. Aerys frowned, was he being shown a part of citadel?

"How dare the Targaryens do this?" A short and thin maester, with long white beard cried out in a shrill voice. "After all the pains we went through to keep the people of Westeros away from those freaky and unnatural things happening in Essos, now they have been conquered by the Targaryens, who will surely bring their queer ways into Westeros. All the sacrifices made by our predecessors, have they become useless, Archmaester?"

It was then Aerys noted the man with the most elaborate set of chains amongst the five, he must be the Archmaester mentioned, Aerys thought. The Archmaester was didn't say anything, instead it was another man, tall and well-built, with a square nose and bright blue eyes answered with a smile, addressing the first man who spoke, "Don't be so discouraged, Petyr. I think we are overestimating the Targaryens' influence. Don't we ignore the tree worshiper with their starge ways? Have the been able to spread their nonsense this far south? Similarly, the Targaryens also won't be able to convert anyone to follow their ways."

Another lean and frail looking man answered, "Don't compare the Targaryens with the Northern people, Lomys. The North doesn't have dragons, the Targaryens do."

The previous man, Lomys, waved his hand, "Then we will get rid of them, a poison slipped in their drink, or an ailment left untreated, men are easy to kill, brother." At this, he smiled again.

The fifth man, the youngest of them all, with short brown hair and brown eyes, said quietly, " We need to be careful and bide our time, after all, we do not want uncontrolled dragons to pillage all over Westeros. No, we need the Targaryens, at least until we can find a permanent way to control or kill the dragons."

Finally, the Archmaester spoke, " Gawen is right. We cannot be hasty, beside, our records say that it much harder to kill men with magic in their bloods with poisons or untreated diseases. Houses that are descendants of First Men areuch harder to control, no doubt the Targaryens would also be so. We cannot act hastily and be discovered."

The first man, Petyr, asked, " Then what to do you propose we do, Archmaester?"

" We have been lax in our duties, grown complacent at the ease of our jobs, our numbers had dwindled until only the five of us are left. First order of business is to recruit more brothers in our order, keep you eyes and ears open, submit any suitable names to me, look especially for those with any personal hatred with magic and magic users." The rest of them inclined their heads in acknowledgement.

" Next, we will once again begin to monitor the brothers applying for Valyrian steel chain link, our order does not promote needless killing of our own, but if any of them turn out problematic we would get rid of them to prevent future problems. And lastly, we will watch and we will wait, we will bide our time and whenever any of the Targaryens missteped," the Archmaester smiled gently, " we will be behind them to give them a push and ensure their fall." At this, the other four also smiled and the vision faded away.

Aerys felt a cold shiver running down his spine. Before he could even process the information he received, his surroundings were filled with a brilliant golden light, so bright that Aerys had to shut his eyes tightly, to save his eyes from blindness.

Then he heard the voice, clear and sonorous, the voice was at the same time singular and plural, masculine and feminine, Aerys had never heard anything more beautiful or more terrible than this voice. " You have sacrificed your life and magic to me, Aerys of House Targaryen, in return you shall have a second chance at you life. You will be taken to a time before the tradegy had yet to be started. Be very careful, Aerys Targaryen, for this shall be your one and only chance." Each time the voice uttered his name, Aerys felt like he was being hit with a lightning bolt. Before he could even attempt to ask any questions, he was falling, as if someone had dropped him from sky and left him to fall freely. He desperately waved his hands and feets, attempting to clutch at something, anything but to no avail. Instead he kept falling, for how long he didn't know, could have been 10 minutes, could have been days. Finally, when he was sure this wall all some sort of cruel jape played by the Gods on him as a part of his punishment, he felt a burning touch on his mind and then everything went black.

After which, he woke up here, now he just have to figure out where this is. As he was thinking this, memories came to the forefront of his mind, old to his soul but recent for this body. After the memories settled, Aerys gasped and shot out from his bed.

For he was back at Summerhall in 259 AC, he came back during the very night when the wildfire killed almost all of his family members, just hours before the incident occurred.

Chapter Text

Aerys tore through the corridors of Summerhall, vaguely aware that there was someone running after him, probably the Kingsguard stationed at his door, which one he didn't know, didn't care to find out at this moment. He kept running as fast as his legs would allow, towards the Great Hall, where his extended family had gathered to hatch dragons.
Earlier this evening, the Feast celebrating the arrival of his and Rhaella's first child took place. As far as he remembered, in his previous life, he had been in his rooms, passed out after drinking heavily throughout the feast. Some times later in the night, he had been summoned by his Grandfather to witness the hatching of dragon eggs. He had been groggy and barely able to walk in a straight line, his Grandfather had glared at him, his Grandmother had looked at him with disappointment. He had spent the rest of the ritual standing at the very back of the crowd, near the door, staying out of the King and Queen's sight. It had been one of the reasons that he had made it out of the castle alive, while the rest of his family, both immediate and extended, perished in that deadly fire. As for Rhaella, he had no idea how she got out safely, as she had stayed close to his Grandmother throughout the night. Maybe the Gods blessed her, or cursed her, with life considering how she had lived the rest of her years.

Aerys reached the Great Hall, bursting through the doors, taking in the scene in front of him. It was too late to stop the ritual from occuring, because at the other end of the Hall, just in front of the raised dais prepared for the King and Queen, was a large, black cauldron covered by a lid, containing the seven eggs his Grandfather chose for this ritual.

The cauldron was being heated by wildfire from beneath, with three pyromancers in their customary jade green robes tended to the flames. Those pale, sickly green flames licking the steel of the metal cauldron nearly made Aerys vomit, though he managed to suppress his nausea. Now was not the time to lose his mind over memories, he needed to focus if he wanted to save the lives of his family. He could despair later.

He belatedly noticed that everyone in the room was looking at him, probably because he had slammed the doors open in his haste, the guards too late to stop him.

Aerys looked at his Grandfather, his eyes tearing up a little at seeing him after so long. It was well known that King Aegon the Unlikely had always dotted on his grandchildren. Honestly, Aerys had missed his Grandfather more than his Father after they both were gone.

Now though, his Grandfather was frowning at him as he opened his mouth to say something, most likely to rebuke him over his attire ( his jerkin lost, shirt untucked and crumpled, hair unkempt, looking disheveled) and the manner he entered, but Aerys cut him off.

"We need to get out of here, Kekepa. Now " Aerys spoke, letting some parts of the anxiety he felt bleed out in his speech.

The furrows between his Grandfather's eyebrows deepen, "Aerys, what nonsense are you talking about? And where have you been till now?"

It was the King speaking to a Prince of Blood, not Aegon speaking with his grandchildren. All of Aegon's family knew and understood the weight and solemnity of this tone. Aerys himself had been cowered into submission by this tone when he had tried to go after one of the serving maids two moons after his marriage to Rhaella, (By the Gods what a disgrace he had been). But not today.

Aerys forced himself to calm down, he needed to be rational and well reasonable, not hysterical. He met his Grandfather's dark purple eyes with his own deep indigo ones, trying to match his Grandfather's tone with his own somber one, switching to Valyrian,
" I dreamt, Kekepa. I dreamt of Fire, and Blood and Death. I saw the walls of Summerhall being engulfed in emerald green flames, I heard our screams, so agonizing, filled with desperation. I saw.. I saw our deaths, Kekepa."

As he spoke, Aerys remembered the Tragedy at Summerhall from his previous life. The green flames, the screams and smell of burnt flesh, the blazing inferno setting everything on its way aflame. He stood still as the green flames kept burning for hours end, raging and roaring until there was nothing left to burn. He had been so sure that everyone had died, that he couldn't do anything, couldn't save them. He hadn't moved from his place until someone had reported to him that Rhaella was alive.

Complete shocked silence followed his words as everyone digested what exactly was being said. Aerys took some steps forward into that Hall towards the dais and said imploringly, " Please, Kekepa. What I saw... What I saw was terrible. Mayheps the Gods have looked kindly upon our House and sent us a warning. If there is even a sliver of truth to my dream, we should leave. Why take chances and gamble with our lives. Please, Kekepa, we do not have much time."

Aerys was practically begging at the end, looking beseechingly into his Grandfather's eyes, willing him to listen.

" Father, you can't possibly be considering it." His Royal Aunt, Princess Rhaelle, voiced incredulously, when the King had looked contemplative. "All of this is the mischief of this boy, I'm sure. Don't take seriously the imaginary tales concocted by a 15 namedays old boy, who I might point out, had drunk himself into unconsciousness earlier this evening."

Aerys's felt frustrated and helpless, his aunt had never liked him. In her eyes, he was never good enough for her namesake, precious little Rhaella, which war true, but that also meant she criticised and opposed nearly each and every one of his actions, which was a problem right now.

Before he could reply though, it was his Uncle Duncan who answered, " Daenys the Dreamer was only nine namedays old when she dreamt the Doom of Valyria, she was also called crazy and air headed, talking about the destruction of such a mighty civilization, if her lord father also deemed her as such, then our House wouldn't have been here at all, Rhae." Uncle Duncan replied calmly to his younger sister. Then he looked towards his father, "Kepa, there have been many notions of dragon dreams in the history of our house, if Aerys has been shown such a destructive vision at this time, I believe we should heed this."

Aerys had never been more thankful for the presence of his Uncle, he shot his uncle a grateful look, thankful for his help. His uncle smiled at him reassuringly, the familiar smile giving his heart a wrench. It was the same smile his uncle gave him when he had been caught after skipping the Septon's lessons or that one time when he broke his mother's favourite Myrish glazed lamp. He had been petrified, fearing his mother's reaction but his uncle had found him, took a single glance at him and smiled his soothing smile. His uncle had taken the blame for him that day, braving his mother's wrath who had only been placated after he had promised her another such lamp.

Rhaella was sweet and everyone loved her, which she deserved, but Aerys, he wasn't very well liked amongst his family members, rightly so, he was vain, prickly and short tempered, not an easy person to be around, but it was Uncle Duncan who always had a kind word and heartening smile for Aerys, despite his numerous undesirable qualities.

And Aerys had tried to help his uncle in turn. When almost all the court was derisive towards the commoner Lady Jenny, Aerys had tried to treat her, not exceptionally well actually, but with the basic respect and honour she deserved as his aunt and a Princess by Marriage. The beaming smile that he got from Uncle Duncan had been worth his efforts.

What finally convinces his Grandfather is his Grandmother's word, "The dragons, if they are hatched will still remain here, My Love. Look at the boy, he is terrified, I don't think he is fabricating it. "

Was Aerys scared? Scared would be a understatement, his heart was beating so hard that it might jump out of his chest, his hands were shaking in panic, thousands of thought running through his mind, what if he messed things up instead of bettering them? What if this time they all died? How much time do they still have? What if they fail to get out before the fire happens? What if-

King Aegon broke his line of thoughts then by saying, " Very well, we will all wait outside at a safe distance until the ritual is over."

Aerys released a breath that he didn't realise he was holding.
Everyone slowly got up from their seats, his extended family shuffled out of the hall as Aerys made his way towards Rhaella. She slowly stood up from the soft chaise she was sitting on for comfort, just below the dais. Ser Barristan, her ever present shadow not far behind.

He offered her his arm, not daring to look at her directly, not allowing his mind to think about her now, because he knows he will break down otherwise, and now was not the time for collapsing.

Rhaella didn't take his arm, didn't even give him a look as she made her way towards the door. Aerys stood  in his place, half shocked and half relieved( because this Rhaella still expressed her displeasure towards him, unlike the puppet she had been in his previous life). He shook his head, trying to remember what had he done this time to earn her vexation, because it was always something he did. As the memory resurfaced, Aerys suppressed a wince, earlier this evening, a lady from a knightly house had tried to seduce him and he nearly gave in only to be caught red-handed by his dear Aunt Rhaelle. No wonder his Aunt was angrier than her usual at him. And she had definitely informed Rhaella, who in turn was wroth. Aerys sighed, well he'll  beg for her forgiveness later, preferably when there wasn't a chance of them being burned to death by wildfire any minute.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped, turning rapidly to find the owner of said hand, his uncle Duncan stared at him with concern. Aunt Jenny just behind him.

"Are you alright, nephew? You do not look well." Aerys felt warmed by his Uncle's concern. It has been so very long since he had felt genuine family affection. Blinking back tears, because now was not the time for crying, he nodded, "I'm fine, uncle." He tried to smile convincingly.
His uncle searched his face for another long moment, before accepting his answer, he patted his shoulder, "Well, then, let's make our way outside."
"Of course." Aerys replied, offering his arm to Aunt Jenny instead who smiled as she took it, squeezing his arm a little.
Aerys would never admit to anyone, but it did make him feel better.

Aerys looked at Summerhall, taking in the sight of  the most beautiful castle of the Targaryens, in all it's glory. Dragonstone was mighty but dreary, the Red Keep regal and elegant, but Summerhall could rival Highgarden with it's beauty and exquisiteness.

Summerhall was more of a palace than a castle though, lightly fortified, giving precedence to comfort and luxury.  Built by Daeron the Good, at the place where the borders of Dorne, Stormlands and Reach met, Summerhall was situated on top of a large, round hill, at a valley between the Red Mountains, from where the Boneway of Dorne went South. A town had slowly come to life surrounding the castle, called Summertown. It had thrived when Prince Maeker with his family resided in Summerhall. It's activity and population slowly decreasing as Summerhall remained empty during King Aegon V's reign. Until it was completely abandoned after the Tragedy in Aerys's previous life.

Aerys himself now stood on one of the relatively low foothills at the base of the Red Mountains, the mountain range separating Dorne from Reach and Stormlands. He had insisted that his family leave the castle at their earliest behest and stay as far away from the castle as possible, given their minimal time. That had earned him some annoyed grumblings of his family members but he would take their irrittation over them being dead at any given day.

Now approximately two and a half hours later, all the Targaryens present at the  Summerhall was at this hilltop. His female family members in their wheelhouses and the rest conversing in front of a handful of hastily erected tents by the servants. Aerys had made sure everyone vacated Summerhall, he had even sent some guards to Summertown to warn it's inhabitants. Though the fire had only burnt Summerhall and nothing else in the previous life, Aerys didn't want to take any chances. The pyromancers had remained, Aerys didn't bother with them. Let them die in their cursed fire, he thought.

Almost everyone carrying the Targaryen blood was present here. Lord Tristan Massey and Lord Robyn Hayford, the son and goodson of his great aunt Daella respectively, stood conversing with Uncle Duncan. His grandfather was discussing something with Lord Beric Tarth, his other great aunt Rhae's husband. Whatever was being discussed, Roger Dondarrion, heir to Blackhaven and Lord Tarth's goodson, was listening to it intently. The two sons of Lord Massey, Aidin and Elmar, Lord Tarth's heir, Kyle and Lord Hayford's eldest son, Lawren were laughing and talking animatedly. Lord Hayford's remaining two children, Diana and Jorrel, his Aunt Selene's (great aunt Rhae's eldest child) daughter, Alayne, and Cousin Maegor's eldest daughter, Alyssa were running around, playing some sort of game.

It was horrifying and disheartening that of such a large family, only three of them had survived the fire, him, Rhaella and their infant son.

"Did you really had a dragon dream, little cousin?" Cousin Meagor approached him, asking skeptically.

His cousin was as different from his namesake, Maegor the Cruel as was possible, both in appearance and manners. He was tall, lean rather than stocky, with silver hair and pale lilac eyes. He was gentle, soft-spoken and always smiling. It was rumoured in court that it was his grandmother's Arryn blood which calmed the madness of his father, Aerion Brightflame's blood.

Cousin Maegor was exceptionally skilled with a sword, so much that he was only twenty namedays old when he was made the Master-at-arms of the Red Keep, three years ago when the previous one, Ser Evan Crane, died. Sometimes when Aerys saw Rhaeger practicing his sword, he was reminded of his cousin.

"Whether it was a dream or a vision from the future I do not know." It was neither, it was a past he had lived and only he remembered. But he would not tell any of them about that, the memories and tragedies of that life were his and only his burden to bear. "But I did saw Summerhall being burned by wildfire." Just not in a dream but in reality.
He gave his cousin a pained smile. His cousin frowned and was about to say something else when it happened.

There was a bright green flash of light, followed by a loud noise.

Then the jade green flames began to spread, slowly at first, but gaining momentum with each breath, climbing the walls and rafters of the castle.

Aerys knew that there was no way to suppress the fire, it cannot be quenched by water, it will not die out while there is still something to burn. It will seep into the stone foundation of the castle and collapse the towers, it will keep raging until everything is turned into ashes. At least, this time his family won't be this all consuming flame.

From the corner of his eyes, Aerys could see that his Grandfather and Uncle had come to stand on his other side, his Grandmother, aunts and cousins coming out of the Wheelhouse, cousin Maegor was holding onto his daughter, Alyssa, tightly.

Everyone was silent, somber as they watched Summerhall burn, the very place where they were supposed to be, horrified but transfixed. Aerys knew that feeling, there was something in those green flames, something macabre that held you gaze, not letting you turn away.

Aerys didn't realise he was swaying slightly on his feet until his uncle steadied him, holding him tightly. The the sudden relief from the realisation that everyone was alive was making him lightheaded. Aerys knew he was crying, but he didn't care. He had stopped the tragedy at Summerhall from happening, his family was alive and well if a little scared, for a moment, everything was good in the world, until it wasn't.

Rhaella's moan of pain cut through whatever mesmerising effect wildfire had on the Targaryens as everyone turned to look at her. Aerys turning around so fast that he would have fallen if not for Uncle Duncan, his face paling at the sudden comprehension, remembering what he had forgotten.

"The babe" Rhaella gasped, her voice shaky, her hands clutching her raised stomach, " I think the babe's coming."

Chapter Text

Aerys paced anxiously outside the wheelhouse. Rhaella was inside, in labour, along with his Grandmother, great aunt Rhae and aunt Rhaelle. Maester Corso was also there and God's, wasn't he thankful that he insisted the Maester came with them when the said Maester expressed an interest in witnessing and writing down the progress of the hatching ritual. Aerys could admit to himself that for a moment he didn't want to interfere, wanted the Maester to die after what he had seen in his vision, but then the Valyrian Steel of the Master's chain link glinted and caught his eye.

He knew he couldn't start trusting Maesters simply because of their Valyrian Steel links, after all, nearly 250 years had passed after that meeting of the Maesters which he had witnessed in his visions, many things could happen in 250 years.

Of course, it is also possible that the Maesters participating in this conspiracy have gone extinct, but considering the fact that, in the end, House Targaryen had died out and he was specifically shown that vision by whichever deity who had chosen to take pity on his hapless soul, chances are that the conspiring Maesters are very much active still. But still, he had chosen to bring Maester Corso out and now there was at least a Maester by her side as Rhaella laboured.

There was also a midwife inside, a middle-aged peasant woman, from Summertown.

Aerys had gone to Summertown himself, followed by Ser Marlan Penrose, (the knight was his sworn shield, faithfully guarding him until he had died while saving Aerys from the fire at Summerhall in the previous life, he was the one who was stationed at his door when Aerys had first woken up in the past, had followed him to the Great Hall and was now shooting him worried glances from time to time), he had searched for the most experienced midwife with highest success rate and after spending some coins he had found the midwife, Cora and brought her to Rhaella, hoping it would help.

When Rhaella said that the babe was coming, Aerys had felt like an idiot, how could he forget that Rhaegar had been born during Summerhall's tragedy? Well, he didn't forget exactly, but had assumed that since Rhaella didn't have to escape from a raging inferno, she wouldn't go into early labour. Because there was still two moons before she was due to give birth. But it seems some things were fated, his son would be born amongst the smoke of a raging fire, it made Aerys wonder what other things are meant to be. Will his son still become obsessed with a thrice damned prophecy? Will he still bury himself in dusty old tomes, thinking himself as the saviour of the world? Will he still lay dead on a river with his chest crushed by the hand of his own cousin?

Aerya shook his head, no, he will not allow that to happen. He will die himself before he lets any harm come to his son. He will fight with fate itself in order to ensure the safety of his wife and children. Rhaegar will not die in a war, Viserys will not die with a crown of molten gold around his head, Daenerys will not die with a dagger in her heart and Rhaella.. Rhaella will not die in childbirth.

Another scream sounded from within the wheelhouse, causing Aerys to grind his teeth. His nails dug painfully into the palm of his hands, with enough force to draw blood. 'Rhaella will be fine,' he thought, 'She had been fine in the previous life, with only Ser Barristan by her side, she had given birth practically without any aid and she and Rhaegar both had been fine.' Aerys tried to assure himself.

" Calm down, tresy" , his Uncle Duncan's deep voice sounded from where he sat with his Grandfather, both of them also worried. "Mother, Aunt Rhae and Rhaelle are with her, our sweet Rhaella will be fine. Also, it would be a shame if you pass out during the birth of your child." He said in a light, teasing voice, though Aerys could he he himself was also tense.

Aerys tried to smile at his uncle, though it was more of a grimace. He tried to focus on his breathing, taking deep, measured breaths, trying, as his uncle said, not to pass out due to lack of breathing.

He had never been a pious man, had thought Baelor the Blessed as stupid, but today he prayed, not to the Seven, but to the Gods of Old Valyria. He prayed to Meleys, the Goddess of Love and Fertility, to bless Rhaella's labour, he prayed to Arrax, for strength and most importantly, he prayed to Shrykos, the Goddess of beginnings, to bless this new life.

The fire continued to rage at the background and Rhaella's screams continued to sound at intervals. ' Grandmother and others are inside, they themselves have successfully given birth, Grandmother has had five living children herself, there is also a Maester and miswife.' Aerys continued his inner monologue, resisting the urge to enter the wheelhouse and stay with Rhaella. No matter how much he wanted to go inside, he would not be of any help other than overfilling the already cramped wheelhouse, also, Rhaella probably, no, most certainly, will not welcome his presence. He would only cause her further distress by going inside, Aerys thought bitterly.

Finally, after what it felt like an eternity, the sound of a shrill cry was heard from the wheelhouse, just as the burning fire died down to embers and the first light of the day appeared at the sky.

Aerys stopped his pacing and stared at the door of the Wheelhouse, as if willing it to open with his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest.

The door opened and Aunt Rhaelle emerged from inside with a small bundle clutched to her chest.

"It is a boy." She declared to his grandfather, a small smile gracing her face.

"How's Rhaella, Aunt? Is she well?" Aerys asked nervously, the memory of Rhaella flushed with childbed fever still fresh in his mind.

His aunt looked at him with surprise, scrunitizing him for a moment before replying, "Rhaella is as well as she could be, weak and tired, but otherwise in normal condition." Aerys's tense shoulders relaxed a bit at that, the information was vague and not enough and he will be interrogating Maester Corso and the midwife about his wife's specific situation later, but if there was any immediate danger or any signs of it surely his aunt, who loves Rhaella like her daughter, would not be smiling.

"And how's the babe?" Aerys asked again, his voice softer this time, staring at the bundle held by his Aunt.

"The young Prince is born a bit smaller, due to being born earlier, but is surprisingly strong and overall in good health, My Prince." It was Maester Corso who answered, having followed his aunt out from the wheelhouse.

Aerys swallowed and went forward towards his aunt, not taking his eyes of the bundle. He stretched out his hands towards his son, looking at his aunt in both a request and demand to carry the babe. His aunt huffed, but obliged. She carefully handed him the babe, showing him how to hold the babe as not to injured his neck, not that Aerys needed her instructions, but nevertheless, he carefully followed her and finally held his newborn son in his arms.

Aerys wasn't ashamed to admit that he cried, his eyes tearing at the sight of the child, small, pink and wrinkled, with lips puckered and already a small frown present on his face.

There was no doubt that this was Rhaegar, Aerys had spent countless nights staring at his son, when he himself could not sleep due to nightmares, he had held onto Rhaegar as he was the only thing that gave Aerys solace during the aftermath of Summerhall. He had been there for Rhaeger's childhood, watched him take his first steps and say his first words, a thing, which he was ashamed to admit, he did not do with Viserys, he was too lost in his own head by then and he was dead by the time Daenerys was born. Rhaegar had also adored him, he toddled after Aerys as he went to court or Small Council meetings, wanting to be carried around, asking for bedtime stories.

When did things start to change? Probably when the miscarriages started, Rhaella became sad and withdrawn, lost in her own melancholy and Aerys was too busy battling madness, becoming short tempered and his moods turning unpredictable. They, him more than Rhaella, had failed him, as parents, Aerys knew.

He was their salvation, Aerys thought. Him and Rhaella both had turned towards Rhaegar to fill the gaping hole inside them left by the Tragedy, it was too heavy a burden to place on a child. No wonder the child had sadness clinging to him like a cloak, no wonder he took the burden of saving the world on him alone.

But then again, they themselves were children, Aerys and Rhaella, children who had become parents for the first time, children who had no one to guide them, children who were forced to grow up too fast.

Aerys lovingly caressed his sleeping son's face, smiling slightly at the feeling of softness at his fingers. This time, he would not fail his son, this time his son will grow up being loved and cared for by all his family, this time his son would be happy.

"What would you name him?" Aerys looked up to see his grandfather staring at them, the King's usual stern face turning soft at the sight of his great-grandson.

"Rhaegar. Rhaella has named him Rhaegar." His aunt spoke, staring at him challengingly, as if daring him to object, as if he had any objections about his wife naming their child after she had endured so much pain to give birth to him. Rhaella can name each and every children the Gods will bless them with if she wants to.

"Rhaegar Targaryen, the first of his name." Aerys said softly, looking down at his son again. You will be the first of your name, my son. With no legacy to uphold, no big shoes to fill. You will create your own destiny, free from any shadows of the past. I will make sure of it. Aerys silently promised his son, gently rocking him in his arms.

They have decided to stay at Summertown for a while. Not everyone, it was quite impractical for the King to stay at this small town. After resting for a while, King Aegon and most of his party made their way towards Storm's End, from where that would go back to King's Landing by boat.

But Rhaella was weakened from the birth and she needed to be closely monitored in case any childbed fever or hemorrhage occured. So Rhaella was to stay at Summertown for at least a fortnight, if everything was good and she was recovering well then after a fortnight they may travel to Storm's End, where they will remain for another 3 moons before Rhaegar was strong enough to make the long journey to King's Landing.

Aerys, of course, had stayed with Rhaella, their cousin Selene and cousin Maelora also choosing to stay. Lord Roger Dondarrion had gone to Blackhaven, which was the closest keep from here and returned with a group of soldiers for their protection, two Kingsguards, Ser Barristan and Ser Marlan had also been left with them for this purpose.

They were currently staying at a Manse in Summertown, the best in the whole town, which while a bit small was clean and tidy. (Aerys couldn't help but think, this was a palace compared to the hovels his son and daughter had been forced to stay while running from the Usurper's, their cousin's, assassins.)

Rhaella did not have enough strength or milk to feed Rhaegar herself, so they looked for a wetnurse. The midwife, Cora, recommended a young widow, Roslin, from the town, who had lost her husband recently and was in need of some coin desperately, as a wetnurse. Roslin was vetted personally by his Grandmother and Aunt before they left and she was officially appointed as Prince Rhaegar's wet nurse after they both were satisfied.

Aerys also talked privately with Maester Corso to find out more about Rhaella's health, the Maester refused to elaborate on it, only saying that the Princess wasn't in any danger and was recovering well till now. He was used to dealing with nobles and was of the belief that discussing the specifics of childbirth, all the blood and gore, with men, specially a Prince is vulgar and disrespectful. Aerys had barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, why was blood and gore in battlefield glorified but blood and gore in childbirth treated as disgusting and revolting?

He went to speak with the midwife, Cora, instead, who did not have any scruples and lectured him for an hour with a no nonsense voice. The summary of what she said was, 'The Princess is exhausted. It was a good thing that the babe came early, for the Princess would have suffered more if the babe was full-grow. The Princess is still young herself, her own body is not fully grown, not enough to safely give birth to a full term babe. She had not teared, her bleeding was not excessive, still no signs of childbed fever is seen. She has some afterpains, which should stop in 2 or 3 days. All in all, she was very lucky that she was able to give birth to a healthy babe and suffer so less. But she had hurt her body by giving birth so young and her body needs time to recover, she must wait at least 3 years but it is best if she waits at least 5 years before trying for a child again.'

Aerys thought back to the two miscarriages Rhaella had within the next five years after giving birth to Rhaeger in his previous life. No one had told him that Rhaella needed to rest, not his parents, not his Maester. At this time in his previous life, he still wasn't as gone as he would be in future, if the Maester had adviced him, he would have agreed, though he didn't love his sister then, not like a man loves his wife, but she was still his sister, who had survived that hellfire with him, he still cared for her.

Aerys suppressed his anger, it would do no good to seem angry before the midwife, she would assume he was angry due to her, to be honest, quite rude words. But Aerys didn't mind, she was professional and she knew her business well, that was all that mattered. Instead, after Cora had finished her rant, Aerys had asked, politely, if there was any way to prevent pregnancies that did not cause any adverse affects to the body as moon tea caused. Cora had regarded him with narrowed eyes for a moment, before smiling, looking pleased. She had then informed him of a potion which is mainly used by women in Essos, to prevent unwanted pregnancies, which doesn't have any side effects. It is called Nefeli potion, it should be taken once every fortnight, in the morning before breaking fast. Aerys had nodded and left it at that. He needed to make sure that the brew was actually harmless before taking it to Rhaella.

Aerys was impressed by the woman's courage though, not everyone had the guts to look a Royal Prince in the eye and lecture him about his wrongs. He had half a mind to hire Cora on the spot but he refrained from doing so, after the mess that happened with Rhaella's Ladies in his previous life Aerys will not hire or appoint any women to their household. He would suggest it to Rhaella though, if she hadn't already thought about it. His wife was smart and surely she had seen she the advantages of Cora.

As for the Maesters, Aerys was unsure of what to do with them. The nobles were absolutely dependent on them. Now to think about it, how had no one, in all these years, ever thought that letting a single organisation have domination over all the knowledge of an entire continent which they refuse to share until someone becomes part of that said organisation? Why had no one ever suspected them? Or had they? Did someone suspect them and had been dealt with by the Maesters?

It was so obvious, Aerys cannot be the only one suspecting them, but then again Aerys hadn't even thought in that direction before the vision was shown to him. The Maesters did a very good job of blending in and avoiding suspicion. Every powerful lord had one, every not so powerful ones desired one. Having a Maester at your keep was seen being truly distinguished. A servant, handmaiden, stableboy, chambermaid could be suspected of being a spy but not a Maester. No, the Lords and Ladies held them in confidence, seeking their counsel and having their actions being guided by invisible hands most of the times. Maesters were in charge of the education of their young, guiding the minds of the would be lords and knights for generations, so that they will not question them and trust them unconditionally. Maesters were the ones who sent and received raven, the first ones to know the contents of any missive if they chose to. What if they delay in delivering important informatio?, What if they accidentally misplace vital missives? Their excuse was also blameless, a raven could easily be delayed or die on the way while delivering messages.

Most importantly, they healed the sick, which brought forth a question, how to be sure that they were actually healing and not the ones making them sick in the first place? After all, who else knew about healing except them? No one. Various suspicions and conjectures emerges in Aerys's mind. While a part of Aerys thought he was being too paranoid, the larger part of him was uneasy with how much trust they seemed to put in the Maesters.

Aerys sighed, not every Maester was evil, some were genuinely concerned about their charges and truly wanted to help, Aerys told himself. Now he just had to differentiate between them.

It would take time, he knew, but Aerys could wait, he would take it slow. Patience, he smiled slowly, was a virtue, after all.  And wolfs and lions weren't the only ones who hunted, dragons did too.