[center][h3][color=9e0b0f]Dragonstone[/color][/h3][/center]

"So, who was your father?" Daemon said as he threw another rock over the water, placing a hand upon his tunic and leaning onto his left foot.

The rock bounced five times before disappearing under the waves with a plop.

[i]Five times too many.[/i] Baelor thought as he stumbled down to the rocky shore where the other youth stood. He grabbed the flattest rock he could, juggling it in his hand to test it, before preparing his throw.

"Aegon the Tenth." He lied as the rock splashed once against the water. He knew that he wouldn't be believed, Aegon the Tenth had no true-borns and no lovers, so how would he have had a bastard? Baelor knew that he would get called on it, even Daemon wasn't deaf enough to ignore that.

"I was Maegon, sired me on some tavern wench before he went east, she handed me off to Prince Aegon, the ninth one, then went off to drink herself to death."

Perhaps he [i]was[/i] that clueless, but no matter the case, Daemon had a much more believable story, Maegon was a well known King's Landing lech who raided the rooms of every woman from Dragonstone to Casterly Rock. Though Maegon left thirty or so years ago, and Daemon didn't look a year over fifteen. Perhaps Baelor was wrong and Daemon was just older than he looked, it wouldn't be odd, considering Daemon always liked surprises. But the story did have one huge inconsistency.

Baelor walked away from the water and sat upon one of the largest rocks, resting his arms over his knees. Daemon smirked at him, to which Baelor only nodded.

"How's it feel to know you were named after a traitor?" Baelor asked with a grin, happily confident in the fact that this would catch Daemon off guard with both the sudden statement and the truth behind it.

And indeed, Daemon scowled open-mawed for a moment, obviously looking for something to say. Silently his mouth clamped shut, and Daemon tossed another rock over the water aggressively. Baelor stood and streched.

"Well, at least you'll be happy in the knowledge that you're the third Daemon with the personality of a shaved bear being castrated." Daemon turned to him and bit his thumb spitefully before throwing the rock yet again, skipping it four times.

"Hey, I take comfort in the fact that I'm the second Baelor who fights like his wrists are broken, why can't you accept the blessing in your name?" Baelor grinned and strode back up besides Daemon. Daemon lightly tossed him a rock and raised a finger in his direction.

"At least neither of us are named Daenerys." He chuckled and nearly fell back into the water, Baelor using all the power he had over his body to not push him.

Daemon enjoyed being the superior one in their relationship, and Baelor subservient. Of course, they had no pretensions of their familial bond being healthy, though Baelor knew that whatever familial bond was left was barely enough to make the term "Cousin" appropriate, considering Baelor's family had long since given up the "Waters" from their name.

Baelor held his breath and grabbed his stone tightly in his left hand.

[i]Flick at the wrist, follow through.[/i] He reminded himself silently. He took in one deep breath, grunting out as he threw the rock straight into the sand just below the water's surface. Silently cursing his inability to perform physical actions, Baelor thumped back down onto his rock, the hill behind him providing decent enough shelter from the maritime winds.

"Daenys is close enough, though i wouldn't say that to him, unless you're a fan of being a blind eunuch."

"A blind eunuch?" A new voice, accompanied by the most startling shriek ever heard to man, the shriek of a dragon. 

Baelor broke out in a cold sweat, he felt his eyes opening to the air. Desperate, he looked to Daemon, who stood, his throat letting out odd choking noises. His hand opened and his rock splashed into the sea, in a moment he was upon them.

Daenys Targaryen placed an arm over Baelor's neck, just tight enough to choke him, but not tight enough to constrict his breathing. He was dressed immaculately, Baelor couldn't help but notice, a black doublet speckled with a variety of metal platings. Metal rings held the strings of his cloak, tied haphazardly into a knot with one red string dangling down to his chest, meeting with a dragon medallion which blew slightly in the cool breeze. The inside of the doublet was red velvet, looking half from Yi Ti itself, soft enough to be a pillow, which doubtless would have been used to smother a pretender babe or the sort. His white hair was combed to the left of his head, but quite a few threads dangled like vine over his brow, which was wrinkled by the widening of his eyes.

And above all, he appeared completely mad, and Baelor knew there was a very good reason for that. He was looking over two pretenders on his island, the island which he had just arrived on... or at least Baelor assumed, though perhaps he had walked into the main keep and told his household of his arrival. Whatever the case, Baelor felt as if he had a manticore resting upon his neck, fascinated by the pulsation of his vein, and that one wrong breath could lead to painful stinging death. Appeasement was the big word when it came to Daenys Targaryen, though it was rare to have someone succeed at that, Daenys was fickler than wildfire.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, their souls connected, Baelor knew it, even if it seemed impossible, he saw something he had seen before but never thought to think about. His eyes, the prince's eyes they spoke in a way that he knew not even Daenys himself understood, every scowl changed his face but not his eyes, they had a way of attaching themselves to people, jewels that captured Daenys' soul within them, his soul which gave him every thought and every emotion.

He remembered back in the courts when they had locked eyes before, Daenys' head had tilted from across the room, the whole room seemed to go quiet as the prince's lavender flames burned weakly, displaying his emotions without words. He saw then, Daenys' soul morph at his sight, turning from a flame of unending anger and childlike compulsion to a cold, different stare, despondent hatred, as if just the sight of Baelor's white hair and almond eyes made him downtrodden and broken. He stalked him, like a Shadowcat watching a rodent before leaping and devouring it. Now it was something different, his smile did nothing to hide rage unbridled, and something much worse that he hadn't the words to explain, with more rage than a raging fire, and yet cooler than ice. All in the prince's eyes, unlike anything Baelor had ever seen in his life. They seemed amaranthine, almost as if he could dive in and swim in the man's soul, see everything he could ever need to see about the man, ever need to understand.

His smile faltered, but the prince's didn't, his smile a facade constructed upon stages and stages of pure child-like rage and ignorance, which itself had been hidden under a layer of the embitterment of failure and adulthood. Buried deep within, Baelor knew he could see the spark of kindness that had so powered Daenys' brother, buried so deep that Baelor almost thought it was impossible, but Daenys had the look of a broken child, kind and innocent, if only for a moment, before it was buried again, it returned repeatedly, Baelor saw it, but never the same, it was more jaded with every passing moment, until it was gone, now all his eyes showed was the hate, the hate that drove every one of his actions, the hate that spoke in a way hidden to Daenys himself and presumably anyone that saw him, but Baelor heard it, somehow, perhaps it was all in his mind, it spoke, it said something.

[i]You must die,[/i] it said, through Daenys' eyes it growled out the words, or maybe they were barked like an order, maybe they were never there at all, but Baelor knew it was real, and he was afraid.

Daenys smiled even more then, even his eyes did, the jewels swelled and laughed silently, in victory, in triumph. Baelor knew then, fear more akin to pain rising in him.

His eyes had betrayed him.

[hr]

"Grain? What for?" The man asked in a thick Braavosi accent. Daenys rolled his eyes.

"We're at war, here on Dragonstone, we're going to be needing grain." 

Of course this was a lie, Daenys never truly intended to distribute grain to the people on Dragonstone, they could survive well enough on fishing and the privateering that certain ships had taken to doing, Daenys knew that from the North to Dorne he was hated, it didn't matter, of course, but if he wanted to take the throne, he had to bend to their demands eventually, it was what a king had to do, even if he hated it, he was a god! They needed to bend to his will, not him bend to theirs, but even a god could be killed, and Daenys had plans on that front, though that was far in the future, but for now, he just had to purchase the grain, commission a baker, and fly west, watch as the people flocked to him like moths to a flame, joining his army of peace in the stead of Rhaenyra's army that nearly destroyed King's Landing.

Aegon would have had another stroke had he seen what had become of his descendants, Daenys bemoaned, he would provide a worthy successor, as would his son after him, their line would be perfect, and all the others would end at his hand, the beach was just the start of the cleansing, no more false dragons would fly these skies, no more "wise lords", just dragon kings, Valyrian supremecy over all, Valyrian invincibility, as it was said in their day. The stubborn rose would finally be cut, and replaced by one of his bannermen's second sons, men who would never account to anything otherwise, he would make kings out of shepherds. 

As the dragons did however many years ago.

The Braavosi gave him an odd look, before lugging an assortment of bags of grain from the large boat he stood in, up onto the deck, wiping sweat off of his brow and pushing a mat of curly brown hair back up onto his head.

"That's all I've got, it's going to cost you." He said, placing his hands on his hips. 

Daenys chuckled at his belief that a prince would be paying, it was buffoonish really, how could he not see that Daenys was a god and thus above purchasing objects from anyone? It was obvious to see, the Braavosi was a believer in those other gods, obviously, a fact that excluded him from receiving Daenys' grace, an unfortunate thing really, but it was his choice, a one he had decided to make despite his meeting of a physical god. Daenys truly pitied this man.

Shaking his head, Daenys placed a finger between his lips and whistled, in a moment, the dock shifted under the weight of a dragon, Bloodfyre, his dragon.

"I'll take the grain now."

The Braavosi stared at the dragon, letting out a fearful squeaking noise. His knees shook and he crouched down, attempting to hide within his ship. Daenys smiled at this, beginning to load up his dragon with the bags of grain. He was getting tired, it was normal, considering the amount of activity he had been putting himself through.

Flying back to the castle, he locked up Bloodfyre slowly, nearly falling asleep as he fumbled tying the knot over and over again, before finally leaving it and simply allowing the dragon to wander the island freely, he had no reason to care anyways, the people would moan and complain, but Dragonstone was no home of his, Aerys could deal with it once he took it over, he was a bright lad, always had been, almost on his father's level, he was probably doing his best to keep the Tyrells from sinking the Seven Kingdoms into the sea.

By the time he reached his bed, he was already too tired to stand, and the bed felt soft, whatever position he came to rest in was comfortable, and his mind was silent. He had to work himself to the bone more often if this is what the result would be. Chuckling once, he rolled onto his left and fell asleep, massaging his old scar and sighing once before the dreams replaced any thought.

He dreamed he was young again, he saw Aegon, angry Aegon, soon the world became real around him, and he forgot it was a dream.

Daenys smacked the tree again with his stick, enjoying the crack and the vibration it sent up his arm. He hadn't remembered how long he had been at it like this, but it was both tiring and surprisingly fulfilling, focusing on his swing, he remembered his father's flicking wrist and short grunt with every swing.

"Brother, knock it off." Aegon said, annoyed and angry. 

Daenys never knew Aegon to be angry, but he was sure it was nothing, Aegon was a kind lad, everyone loved him, he was going to be king! Daenys was happy for him, and he was sure he would be a wise king, a king to make his predecessors proud, just as long as the people were happy, that was the important thing.

Smiling, Daenys dropped the stick and hopped over to his brother on his stubby little legs, he was always shorter than his brother, and the sers said he acted half his age. He didn't care what the sers said, the sers were jerks! He was the smartest nine year old he knew, and the handsomest, and the coolest, he was just the best! No one could compare, not even Aegon, though he was the second best nine year old Daenys knew. Daenys arched his back slightly and hopped in place, prepared just in case Aegon attacked him with a stick of his own, that would be fun, of course, Daenys just didn't want to get hurt, getting hurt sucked, it was the suckiest, he confirmed to himself. Whatever the case, Aegon looked tired, probably from a court session, he just had to ask him about it! He loved Aegon's stories.

"Hi brother! How are you? Where's the guards? Why do you look so angry? What-" 

Aegon growled and smacked Daenys across the face, sending him sprawling. Daenys yelped in surprise and confusion, and as the pain throbbed, he couldn't help himself but cry. What was happening? What just happened? Had he hit his head off the tree? Did his brother just hit him with the stick? Were they playing?

"Shut up!" Aegon yelled, crouching right in his face and hitting him again.

"One of the sers at court said I looked like you, that's ridiculous! I'm to be the king! I can't have people thinking you're me! You're daft as a pile of dragon-crap!" He pulled a knife out of his pocket and tested the sharpness on his palm.

"I'm done having to deal with your foolishness, brother, it ends now!" 

He grabbed Daenys by the collar, placing the knife to his neck, just where his chest met it, drawing it across, he slashed deeply into Daenys' skin, causing him to cry out and struggle to get away. Aegon growled and put the knife back, standing, he dragged Daenys, one-handed, over by the tree, which he now held on to. He had looked back on this moment again and again, he still had no clue how Aegon had gotten hold of a knife, though he assumed he stole it, just as he stole everything else, he was more a danger to himself with that thing than anything else.

"You show the worst of our family, mad and foolish!" Aegon yelled, the words lacking impact and childishly mis-chosen, the impact came when he kicked Daenys in the ribs again and again, causing him to cry out again and again. 

This continued for longer than Daenys could count, and by the end his face stung from the tears and he was curled up in a protective ball. He cried quietly, because if he did it any louder, Aegon would hurt him again. Eventually, Aegon left with a scoff, leaving Daenys alone to cry, which he did for hours, even when the rain came, he still cried. By the time his father found him, he was so wet and cold he was in pain. He didn't tell his father what had happened, because he knew if he did, Aegon would just beat him again and there was nothing his father would do to stop him. His father sighed, grabbing up Daenys and rushing him back to the keep, his chest was warm and his arms held Daenys tighter than was comfortable, but it was still the best feeling that he had ever felt.

The memories flew by, again and again Aegon beat him, more and more violently as he aged, to the point where Daenys' torso was covered in scars from his brother's knives and sticks, he always hid it in fear of what Aegon would do.

Eventually, something cracked, during once beating he grabbed Aegon's stick from him. Aegon's face lit up in confusion. Daenys came closer, screaming in his brother's face before taking the cold stick from his hands and smashing it across the elder prince's face. It was among the best feelings he had ever felt. He hit him again and again and again, when his arm got tired he kicked, and when his feet got sore he bit, he yelled at Aegon through it all, calling him more names than he could remember, all of them more cathartic than the last. By the time he was done, he was laughing, he hated him, wanted every part of his smug face to be torn off by hungry horses, and now to see him whimpering in the same way, was funny, too funny, he laughed loudly and repeatedly, and no-one came for either of them, as no-one had come for them back when Aegon beat him. No-one cared about his cuts and bruises, they thought he was just "clumsy" or a fool. Daenys half laughed half cried at this thought.

"Look who's the fool now!" He screamed in Aegon's face as he stomped once more on his brother's chest. with fist and foot, he smashed his brother until he was a bruised and bloody mess, and it felt amazing, the best feeling he had ever felt.

Then he returned to the castle, to his angry father. Aegon had told, and Daenys was locked in his room for two whole weeks without even being allowed to tell of Aegon's brutal treatment. Daenys hated them all, he hated every thought of them, he wanted them all dead, he wanted the throne so that he could throw them all from the parapets into the sea! He was perfect before! Perfect! Now he was scarred and hideous, and it was all Aegon's fault, and he was the one punished. He screamed for the rest of that day, spending the next weeks catatonically eating and laying in his bed.

Aegon became king a few years later, and he made Daenys hand of the king for a fortnight, just to make him a target, Daenys was sure, and when he wasn't killed, Aegon had him demoted while he thought of another plan, he constantly apologized and said he wanted to make it up to him, but it was all lies, Daenys knew, his brother was an evil man, and the king wanted him dead, Daenys knew it was true. Aegon always met with the maester about "impotence", Daenys was assuming of the poisons they used to try to murder him in his sleep.

Daenys hated him, he hated how he lied to the people, how he lied to his wife, and especially how Aegon lied to his nephew, he did what he did for the good of the realm, he recalled saying, he knew it to be true, it was for the good of the realm.

Daenys awoke with a start, after looking around once, he laid back down and grabbed his pillows, covering his head and growling as comfort evaded him.